News Headlines Article

Diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at age 8 meant growing up quickly
Washington Post

I still remember that stupid orange.

I was 8 and in an intensive care unit.

The nurse told me to practice sticking a syringe into the fruit. The orange was supposed to simulate my stomach. The syringe would give me the insulin I needed to live.

She didn’t mention the scars from sticking the same spot or the little dots of blood from hitting a vein with the syringe.

Over and over again, at least three times a day, for the next 18 years.

I am 26 now, and recently, my new endocrinologist asked me to tell her my story of being a diabetic.