Seven Years

Sometimes the needle still takes my breath away...

Now not from shock, because it is in no way unexpected anymore; And not from unfamiliarity, for after such a length of time routine becomes second nature. Quite to the contrary. After holding that cold, heartless, steel rod up to my flesh over and over- I almost don't feel it's insertion anymore. 

Almost. 

Yet, there are the moments- not rare enough to keep me from holding my breath each time due to the pure fear of it- the moments of pain. The moments where every nerve in my body is overwhelmed with a stinging and burning sensation that catches your breath and debilitates your being in its grasp. 

Sometimes the needle still takes my breath away. 

It's in those moments that my mind is transported back to that very first day- seven years ago, when I sat on that examination table for the first time. That day when the doctor came in with a completely emotionless expression, staring at my thin, frail body, and stated the words "you have type one diabetes." That day when my blood sugar was too high for even the meters to read and the day I almost found myself admitted to the ICU. 

In that moment of breathlessness my mind is taken back to when the nurse came into the room to administer that first dose of insulin- The first of potentially infinite need for them. I can still hear her tapping the air out with her fingernails as she dosed up that starter intervention. The beginning of thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, of injections that I would require just to stay alive. 

The outward scars this disease leaves on my body are blatantly evident. My fingertips are littered with the proof of four to five test pricks a day. My arms, legs, and midsection are covered with bruises, hard spots, red marks, and needle holes. 

Type One Diabetes leaves scars.

The outward scars are one thing, but the internal ones- the emotionally mental ones, are my biggest hurdle. The anxiety that comes with running out of supplies and being denied refills. The fear that enters my mind at night wondering if my sugar will crash and I won't ever wake back up. The dread and worry that fills my heart when considering the possibility of this disease affecting future relationships for the negative. 

Type One Diabetes leaves scars. 

Scars that many don't even know about. It changes your life- it's changed mine entirely. 

Yet, in the face of all of this, in the moments of pain and breathlessness, in the late-night hours of worry and fear; Yet, my God is still good. 

Seven years ago, He rocked my world. He took everything I knew of life and flipped it upside down. 

Yet, He is still good. 

Through the ups and downs of this journey He has shown His faithfulness time and time again. He has proven my weakness to me and taught me to rely on Him. He has made me stronger, but only when I am standing in Him. He has challenged me, through His Word, to consider all of this joy- every prick, pain, fear, and need. 

How do I consider it joy? Because He is my source of hope. 

Yes, sometimes the needle still takes my breath away. 

Yes, sometimes I want to pull out my infusion site and chuck my pump across the room. 

Yes, sometimes my sugars go high for no apparent reason and it frustrates me to no end. 

Yes, sometimes I break down and tears begin to pour down my cheeks uncontrollably from the weight of all of this mess. 

Yet, my God is still good. 

So today, this day, seven years after that life changing diagnosis; today I thank my God for Type One Diabetes. I thank Him for everything He's done in and through me. I thank Him for both the blessings and the pain that T1D has brought me.

And I keep walking each day, by His grace.