I don't feel the lancets any more as they create the scabs in my fingers. I've trained myself not to notice or care when someone eats something I can't have in front of me. I have a nightly ritual of pricking my finger, and swallowing my fear of an abnormal reading. I am sixteen years old, and I have had type 2 Diabetes for five years.
Type 2 Diabetes has many causes, but for me it boils down to two things; first, Diabetes runs in my mom's family, and second, my issues with insulin resistance due to Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). Insulin resistance means that my body won't use insulin like it should, leaving a high amount of unabsorbed sugar in my blood. With PCOS it sometimes feels as though Diabetes makes up only half of the problems I have with my body.
Diabetes takes up too many of my thoughts during an average day. A teacher hands out candy, and I remind myself that I'm not allowed to have the sugar. I look at the formula for glucose during chemistry, and I tell myself how ironic it is that I know that formula when I see it. "Stephanie, stop thinking about it. Stop caring." I tell myself this every day, even though I know it's not that simple.
"Am I a Diabetic, or just a person with Diabetes?" This is a question I've asked myself on numerous occasions. Diabetes is always on my mind. I can't stop thinking about it. I am always worrying about my blood sugar levels or worrying about things that are Diabetes related. I don't want to let an illness describe and control my life. I want to be able to tell myself that I am more than my illness, but sometimes it doesn't feel true.