In the hospital, the nurse told me that by the time I turned 10 they’d have a cure. This voice echoed in my head for years, as I imagined those very doctors and nurses working overtime in their labs, after their long days helping kids like me. Each birthday after the 10th one, I became more and more bitter thinking about that nurse, realizing she had delivered a false promise.
T1D is an autoimmune disorder that occurs when the pancreas stops producing insulin. Unlike for Type 2, scientists still aren’t sure why. They have found that some T1D patients share a particular HLA (human leukocyte antigen) complex, but in order for this to trigger an immune response, it has to be triggered by something else, like a viral infection. Because it takes years for the T-cells to completely destroy the beta cells of the pancreas, it can be hard to track.
But this theory checks out for me: I had a nasty virus as an infant, and was diagnosed with T1D 5 years later.
Managing T1D is incredibly difficult. Every variable of everyday life affects blood sugars, and interact with each other such that it’s nearly impossible to know what causes a high or low. Today, by blood sugar was 152 when I woke up, I ate 18 carbs for breakfast, gave 2.1 units of insulin, and remained steady through the morning. Tomorrow, I might wake up at 152, eat 18 carbs, give 2.1 units, and end up with a dangerous low in the middle of an important meeting.
Despite this, I am lucky. I have health insurance, allowing me to have technology that makes it more likely I’ll beat the odds. For the uninsured, the estimated cost of T1D is over $13,000 a year – and that’s just for the bare minimum. What are we doing for the people who need the 6th most expensive liquid on earth to survive, but can’t afford it?
Photo retrieved from: Insulin Nation