Diabetes: My earliest memories

This is how I remember the time of my diagnosis. To a seven year old, memory is selective, and most of what I selected to remember – surprisingly – does not involve diabetes (family members and medical records filled in what I missed later).  To a 38 (almost 39) year-old, memory gets hazy, so this is my attempt to write down my diagnosis memoirs before I forget anymore.

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I had been home from school for quite some time. I’d been itching like crazy from the chicken pox. My parents would slather cream on my sores like one would schmear cream cheese on a bagel.

They brought my brother to the doctor who gave him some a shot to give him chicken pox as well, but in a much more mild outbreak. At four and a half years old, he hadn’t yet been given the diagnosis of Angelman Syndrome, but there was definitely something wrong with his brain, his motor skills, and his development. Everyone knew that – if he got it as severe as I did – that it would be worse than unbearable. So in the absence of a vaccine (which, apparently, they now have these days – medical breakthroughs do exist!), they gave him this. He seemed to do alright from what I remember.