Are you aware?

This morning I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up Mackenna’s insulin.  I gave the pharmacist her name and birth date and when he came back from the refrigerator with the box of insulin, he paused.  He glanced at me and then back at the paper stapled to Mackenna’s box of insulin.  Then he said, “Are you aware that this is expensive?”

What I wanted to say was: Are you aware that without it, my daughter dies?  Are you aware that it’s not an optional medication?  Are you aware that there really isn’t a choice here?  Are you aware that once January hits and we have a brand new deductible to meet, that expensive box will become five times more expensive than it is today?  Are you aware that this is just one of the very expensive things we have to buy to keep our child alive?  Are you aware of the fact that if I had to choose between paying our electricity bill or paying for this box of insulin, I’d pick the insulin?  Are you aware of the fact that no matter what price that box rings up at, I will buy it?  Are you aware that this medicine keeps my child alive?  That without it, she does not live?

But instead, I just said, “Yes, I am aware.”

I don’t usually let diabetes get the best of my emotions any more.  I am stronger, more resilient, tougher-skinned than I was at first.  But sometimes, it catches me off guard and tears just come.  I swiped my credit card.  $95.35.  And I walked away with tears in my eyes.

I live under the same roof as type 1 diabetes.  I am aware of it when I sleep, when I wake up, when she is with me and when she is at school.  I am aware of it every time she eats, swims, plays basketball.  When she runs the mile at school, when she is invited to a birthday party or a playdate.  I am fully aware, all of the time.  But today, that question, “are you aware?”  It got to me.  I am painfully aware of this disease all of the time, but I do not typically let myself think about how consuming (and expensive) it is.

I let myself cry a little today.  I think it’s healthy.  It’s ok to be sad.  It’s ok to hate the disease.  It’s ok to wish that I could wish it away.  But I’m not going to stay in this place for too long.  Instead, I will focus on the joy before me.  I will choose to be grateful that type 1 diabetes can be treated and that my kiddo can live a normal life.  I will choose to be grateful for the resources to pay for that box of insulin every month.  I will choose to be grateful for a timely and correct diagnosis three and a half years ago.  I will choose to be grateful for the people in my life who support me and pray for me and let me cry.  I will choose to be grateful for the people in Mackenna’s life who support her and pray for her and love her and appreciate her courage and joy.  I will choose to be grateful for the hope of a future without type 1 diabetes.

Today I’m fully aware that I have a lot to be grateful for.