A Cure

My cousin e-mailed me yesterday and it was such a thoughtful e-mail talking about a day when Lane Michael will be cured. A day when we won't have shots, finger pokes, blood work, highs and lows. I appreciate her thought and I understand the families that have clung to the hope of a cure. Families who only get through the day because they know someday they will be cured. I'm not one of those girls. I hate the thought of a cure. I don't hate the cure, but if I don't find out about the cure until the day it's given to him that'll suit me just fine. Three years ago my life changed. Flipped upside down, spit me out kind of change. I didn't see it. It wasn't that big of a deal at the time because I was still controlling snacks, meals, everything. Now I watch my nephews go to the kitchen and grab an apple or marsh mellows...and I realize what Lane Michael is losing out on. That kills me, so I love Cure Day but the thought of it rips me apart. As long as Diabetes is our life, I'm good, I can do this as long as this is just life but when I think of all the things Cure Day holds for him...I can't write this post. I thought I could but I can't. So here are my thoughts. Will the damage be so extensive by the time we get the cure will it even matter? Will he have feet? Will his heart still be good? His kidneys? The list goes on...but will diabetes be the problem by the time we have a cure? What will it cost? What if the test strip companies and insulin companies ban together and buy it and it's never made available? (I know big conspiracy theory but my fear nonetheless). What if there isn't enough testing done and it causes more damage than it helps? My list goes on but I can't do this. Sorry.