Dawn of the Diabetics

On this day six years ago my adventure began.

There we sat, surrounded by endless rows of immaculate white T-Shirts. Cambria's feather bed was fluffy and smelled of disuse. She said I looked pale. I told her it was nothing.

I remember that we girls went with Paul and Jaylyn to watch the hot-air balloon launch; I marveled at the blazing colors in the sky, and could almost feel the excited tingling as my feet magically left the ground. We listened to techno music in Kari's car, and I thought maybe this would be enjoyable if I wasn't so thirsty. The best part of the ice-cream was the peaches, and the best part of those was their juice. I only wanted to sit down.
My dad was suspicious. I drank from boiling hot water bottles during the fireworks. An unfortunate local had their bush watered. To the hospital we went. My condition worsened.
I fell in love with my intern. I gave shots to an orange. My mom stayed with me day and night. I felt old, sick, and decrepit. I weighed 57 pounds.
Somebody said to me, "You're going to die?"
I didn't cry. I knew they were ignorant.

I shook up my parents with my shaking. I scarred Koseli's finger. I bumped my head. I went to camp and I hated it; I went back again and hated it still.
I became an expert on islet cells, and insulin, and the form and function of the pancreas. I gave lessons in health class. I taught the firsthand truth.
I discovered I could get out of school easily on any excuse, and that I could use my disease to manipulate and frighten my teachers.
I have a special tool.
For six years my pancreas has not worked. Hooray for implants! Hooray for pumps! And hooray for modern medicine!
As much as I love it, I hope I can rid myself of my power soon.