When I was diagnosed in 1997, I was 15 and entering my sophomore year of high school. I wanted to join the field hockey team and during a routine sports physical the physician found sugar in my urine. I spent an afternoon learning basic carb counting and how to inject insulin into myself. That didn’t upset me. The worst part of my diagnosis was not being able to play field hockey for two weeks while I adjusted to life on insulin. Looking back I realize that my deniabetes was in full gear. It was easier to focus on the immediate disappointment instead of facing my fears about life with diabetes.
It took me a very long time to really deal with the diagnosis. Years even.
So what changed? I did. I did a lot of soul-searching and finally one day I realized that I kept thinking someone was going to come along and make it all better for me. I finally understood that I was the only one who could help me. It was a very long road and at some point I would really like to get into sharing the whole story.
Change is possible.