Here is a poem I wrote around this time last year:
I is for inside me, where the insulin makes its bed.
N is for never ending, we won’t stop taking it until we are dead.
S is for shots and pumps, two ways we take the med.
U is for under my skin, where the cannula fits in
L is for Long acting and short acting, the two kinds it comes in.
N is for not quitting, I’ll fight this D-battle to the end.
I hope the end is a cure, as we all do. This is a tribute to the insulin I take every day, I owe it my life. Thank you, little vial of clear liquid. You continue to save my life.
I am not quite to the point of giving up on a cure in my lifetime, even one that works for people who have had diabetes for decades. But today my good friend and fellow T1 Scott Strange said something during the weekly Diabetes Social Media Advocates chat on Twitter (Wendesdays at 9 eastern, hashtag #dsma) that really hit home.
“I no longer care about a cure for myself. I want to see it prevented. If that can happen, I will happily go to my grave as a diabetic.”
Thanks for putting it in perspective, Scott.
Amen to that.