It begins.

I don't know life without the betes.

My mom said she knew something was wrong with me, but it was not till her 6 year old little girl ran past all of the presents that Santa brought and actually emptied the water dispenser on the fridge because she drank it all, that she was able to do something about it.

I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes December 26, 1982. I remember going to doctor Ederidge's office- he always had plenty of Highlights Magazines to look through while we waited. I loved highlights; there were puzzles and fun stories about all of the cool things you could do as a kid. I can remember being in the office, and my mom sobbing asking how long I had to live. (we've learned a lot about diabetes since then) I was quickly escorted back to those fabulous highlights magazines while mom "talked with the doctor."

Against the doctor's advice, we stopped home on the way to the hospital. Mom wanted me to have my new jammies, the pink ones with the feet, and I wanted to get my roller-skates which Santa had just brought to me. I was actually kind of excited that my older brother didn't get to come "meet the nice people" where we were going, but I was upset that it turned out that I could not bring my new roller skates.

I don't remember much else except being very excited about the tub of goodies that they gave me to distract me from having blood drawn. "You mean I get to keep the baby powder and these groovy non-skid socks?" I passed out shortly after that, and life was never the same. But you know, when I think about it, I could not fathom what my life would be like if I had not spent my Christmas vacation of 1982 at Strong Memorial Hospital.

By all accounts I "adjusted" to life with diabetes quite well. I attribute that to the fact that I am a Barton Girl. Tried and true, even down to my red cross tattoo on my bum, my best times growing up were at camp. Somewhere between the camp dances and moving from a green cap to a blue cap in the pool, I managed to learn how to treat a low and what the difference was between NPH and Lente. I also learned all sorts of tricks about living with diabetes (how to drink and not pass out from a low, and how/when to tell a boyfriend about the 'betes) I always said that having diabetes has brought me to some of the best experiences and best friends in my life.

Yet here I am, almost 24 years later, scared to death. You see I am checking out the window every 5 minutes waiting to see the UPS truck (both FedEx and DHL have passed by within the last few hours for anyone keeping track.) My MiniMed 715 is supposed to arrive today. The big day is compounded by the fact that I've tried the pump before. I am one of those few people that didn't like it. Granted, I was in college at the time so that may have contributed to the feelings, but that makes this time just a tad bit harder. But with a half forced smile, and a positive attitude I know that this time will be different. This is a means to an end, and that end being a beautiful, healthy, not weighing more than a Thanksgiving Day turkey, baby. Not right away, in about a year or so, but I’ve never let diabetes stand in my way and I am certainly not going to start now. So I am going on the pump at the recommendation of my doctors, fine tuning my A1c, so that when my non-diabetes side of my brain agrees with my husband’s, we won’t have anything standing in our way. (although, I always joked that I will know that God has a sense of humor if I have fertility issues….so we’ll see)

I finally got around to making my own blog after reading so many of the great OC pages. I’m not sure that anyone other than myself will be reading these pages, but it makes sense for me, to throw all of the questions out there, cause it’s not doing any good bottled up inside…

For all of those who I've anonymously read, I thank you for putting your thoughts and feelings out there to comfort those who you will never know were benefited.

So here we go…. As soon as the UPS guy gets here …