Hey there! I’m Alex, and my son will mark ten years with Type 1 diabetes this January 2020. But let’s rewind a bit to where it all started.
Back in 2009, I was navigating life as a newly divorced person. My son, eager to learn languages like French and Mandarin, was also juggling freelance gigs to help us stay afloat. Amid a struggling economy and a looming real estate collapse, our lives felt like a chaotic storm; it was hard to distinguish between protection and impending disaster.
Then one day, he said, “Mom, I’ve been coughing for six months. Something feels off.” Alarmed, I suggested he see a doctor, and he agreed.
When the test results came back, everything seemed fine—except for his dangerously high blood sugar levels. In moments of intense emotion, life can feel surreal. There were no dramatic sounds, just a silent acknowledgment of the frightening reality: my son had Type 1 diabetes.
“Am I going to die?” he asked, fear evident in his voice. As terrified as I was, I knew I had to take action. I reached out to an endocrinologist I remembered from my medical school days, just a short drive away. I told my son to pack some essentials; we were about to embark on a life-altering journey—minus the fun and filled with anxiety.
Upon arrival, the endocrinologist’s concern was palpable. He admitted my son immediately. He would be sharing a room with two older patients who had just been diagnosed and a younger man exhibiting signs of mental confusion.
After introductions, my son was quickly given rapid-acting insulin via IV to lower his blood sugar and eliminate ketone bodies that had built up due to insufficient insulin production. You see, Type 1 diabetes is characterized by insulin deficiency, where the pancreas’ beta cells are destroyed—often due to autoimmune factors. The tragic part is that these cells don’t regenerate, and even if they did, the autoimmune response would likely attack them again.
At that moment, my son was unaware of the complexities of his condition, and maybe that was for the best. As we settled into our new reality, I found myself connecting with him in a way I hadn’t anticipated. I’m not usually the type of parent who clings to their child, but in that sterile hospital room, it became just the two of us—one finding hope while the other battled fear.
In those quiet moments, love multiplied exponentially. I’ve learned to appreciate the significance of life’s fleeting nature. As Morgan Freeman once said, “Mythology says that the gods envy our mortality. Our mortality is what makes life precious and something to be savored.” This perspective, brought forth by our experience with Type 1 diabetes, has reshaped my understanding of what truly matters.
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In summary, what began as a simple cough turned into a profound journey that taught me the value of connection and resilience. Through the lens of Type 1 diabetes, I learned to cherish the moments that matter most in life.