Diabetes Monologue

I walked into the room and the powerful odor of disinfectant hit me. The nurse directed me to the exam bed, “He will be right with you”, she spoke softly. I sat on the white paper, which noisily crumpled with every movement I made. I watched my feet dangle back and forth and looked around the room at posters on gastric ulcers and how choledocholithiasis are stones in the gallbladder. I heard clicks of footsteps pacing down the hallway. There was a soft knock, and the doctor strode in. He dragged a chair from the corner of the room. Now it got down to the itching, personal details of my family history. As I was filling out the heavy array of forms on my family, it got to the diabetes section. Immediately I thought of my dad who has diabetes. Then my paternal grandma and grandpa also live with this disease. My uncles from both sides. Oh of course my maternal grandma! Oh boy. That is a lot of diabetes. What stops me from getting added to this pool of names?

It is in my genetics. We hear that diet and exercise can help prevent it, but that is just not good enough. It doesn't feel like I am safe. I can eat as healthily as I can and exercise every day, but there is still a chance I may develop diabetes. I understand that people live with chronic illness, but their lives have limitations. I have seen the worst and what some diabetic patients go through. My grandma suffers from a severe form of this disease, eating away at every system of her body. Her life has become about remembering to take the assortment of pills and injections. I know I never want to live like this and no one should. Helping all these victims in the web of diabetes is my goal, but in a meaningful way. The cure for diabetes will happen, and I want to be a part of