23

Let me start by saying, no I did not have a bg of 23 recently. 

It was Monday, October 2nd, 1990 when I was diagnosed with type 1. My stomach hurts when I remember back to the doctors visit. Like reliving the news of a loved one passing, the pain is still there. 

I remember the days following. Trying to find a way to get over having my blood drawn so often and the paralyzing fear of sticking that needle into my skin. The first time it probably took an hour and a lot of tears to finally get it done.

Sometimes I get stuck when I am about to put an infusion set in. In front of the mirror I stand there, looking at my body full of marks. Running my hand across my stomach and feeling scar tissue under my skin. Knowing I am about to add to the number of piercings and anticipating the pain. 

People always ask, "does it hurt?" I think it always hurts some but it's nothing I cannot handle. Sometimes it hurts so badly I have to let out a word or two to cope. 

You know what hurts more? Knowing as long as I keep waking up I am going to keep having to do this. The pain of forever. That hurts a whole hell of a lot more than a stupid needed.

That sting has lasted just the same for 23 years.

Happy Diaversary to me. 

Comments

[Colleen]

Big hug. Oh, several big hugs.

[Jess]

I know how you feel. Love you!