My disease has no cure. I’m responsible for checking my blood sugar several times a day, administering the correct dosage of insulin, and counting every gram of carbohydrate I eat.

Frankly, my disease is exhausting. If I’m not checking my blood sugar, I’m calling the insurance company to fight yet another sky-high medical bill. If I’m not injecting insulin to correct a high blood sugar, I’m questioning how hard and long I exercised that morning and what impact that will have on my disease later that day. If I’m not second-guessing how many carbohydrates are in the slice of pizza I just ate, I’m listening to another person ask me if I should even be eating that piece of pizza.

If I don’t keep my blood sugars under control, the long-term consequences might be blindness, amputation of feet or legs, kidney failure, certain cancers, heart issues, depression, sexual dysfunction, and a slew of other issues.  It’s a lot to carry every day, knowing that every choice I make—from how much sleep I get, to what I eat, to when and how I exercise, to dosing insulin—is a point for life or death.