On The Title "Diabetic"

His name was Joey.

I was in his class from pre-K through second grade (I switched schools going into the third grade). He had dark, curly hair, and skin as glowing-white as mine. He was a bit chubby. His eyes were blue.

He had diabetes.

One of my earliest school memories is the nurse kicking us out of the classroom so she could test his blood sugar. I have countless memories of him crying because he was low. He had these little rectangular yellow packages of skinny pretzel sticks that he got to eat during class.

I don't know how it's possible, but I still remember that he smelled like insulin.

The school nurse used to come on school trips with us, because of him. She did the same thing for his two siblings--a brother and a sister--who also had diabetes.

He wore a Medicalert bracelet--one just like mine, but with a red decal instead of purple.

I've been thinking of him a lot lately.

I don't know if he minded the label "diabetic". I don't know if he felt empowered because he had two siblings with diabetes, or if he felt annoyed because they tried to help him. I don't know if he understood what "genetic" meant, any more than I did when I was that young and my mother told me that his form of diabetes was genetic.

I don't know if his mother died because of diabetes or something else. I'm not even really sure if his mother really died, or if that was some kind of very messed-up rumor.

Someone told me a few years ago that he really had reactive hypoglycemia. I don't know if that's true or not, either.

The truth is, I don't know very much at all.

I do know that when I hear the word "diabetic", his face as it was thirteen years ago, pudgy and sweet, is the first thing that comes to mind.

Today I was tutoring my neighbor in math. She offered me an Oreo and I declined. She asked why, and I told her that they annoy my blood sugar. She asked, as she has a few times before, if I'm a diabetic.

And I realized that I can't say no to that question anymore.

I'm a diabetic. We don't know what kind yet, but we know I am. Without Metformin, my blood sugars are not controllable. My endocrinologist has finally admitted that I have something.

Joey, I don't know whether you had type 1 diabetes or MODY, but I want you to know that I've officially joined the club. And I'm okay with the label.