The Anni(dia)versary
It is nearly the end of January.
February is around the corner.
And then there’ll be March 9.
That will be the day that marks a two year journey for our family. The day on which we received a diagnosis we wish weren’t. Two years ago in 2015, at age 11, our eldest daughter, was diagnosed with a chronic, life threatening, autoimmune disease for which there was no cure. There still isn’t …
Without any warning, and for no known reason her body turned on itself and destroyed and killed off almost all of the insulin producing beta cells in her pancreas. No doctor, medical procedure or specialist could save the last few remaining beta cells from their certain fate. They too would soon be gone.
Every.
Single.
One.
Of them.
Gone.
Forever.
Type 1 diabetes had arrogantly waltzed into our lives. Life as we knew it would never be the same again.
We said our hard goodbyes to the last few beta cells around September 2015. And with that the so-called honeymoon phase (why is it even called that?!) came to an abrupt end.
The divorce was brutal.
The settlement was final.
The terminal goodbye was ‘celebrated’ with a correction shot of insulin.
Fast forward 2017.
In less than two months our daughter’s second (brace yourself for it) DIAVERSARY will show its face. I find these references to marriage a little weird. Honeymoons and anniversaries are times of happiness, celebrations, joy and all things beautiful and romantic. It certainly doesn’t contain fear, worry, needles, finger pricks, sleepless nights, scary episodes of hypoglycemia, frustrations, expensive medical stash, countless trips to pharmacies, tears, math and calculations, blood …
I have absolutely no idea who invented the twisted idea of a diaversary. (If someone can shed some light on the history, please go ahead). But from what I can gather it is a kinda new-ish concept. Like in around-the-last-decade kinda new-ish. I might be wrong.
There are people who embrace and celebrate their diaversaries with zeal. Others don’t care much for it. There are some who deliberately ignore their diagnosis day. And there are others who cannot for the life of them remember the date they were diagnosed. There are no rules pertaining this paradoxical event. Each one to their own.
For our family the honeymoon period is long over. But our daughter’s annual diaversary—now THAT we have to face every year. And in less than two months we are about to say:
“Happy Diaversary to you, darling! Happy Diaversary to us!”
Happy? Really?
I can still remember every detail of that day and how it unfolded. It is forever engraved in my memory, my heart and all my senses. I wonder if time will ever heal the stabbing pain in my heart as I remember our daughter on that hospital bed, falsely perceiving that her first shot of insulin the nurse had just given her would heal her from whatever she had.
It didn’t.
It couldn’t.
It won’t ever either.
Insulin is her life support and she needs it every day. For the rest of her life. Or at least until a cure is found. Let’s be honest—an incurable, high maintenance, lifelong, life threatening, autoimmune disease is not something worth celebrating. I mean, how is it possible to want to ‘celebrate‘ something like that?!
So we don’t. Instead we choose to celebrate our daughter.
How? By taking time out and doing something fun she likes to do. Like going out for a movie or a big scoop of ice cream or perhaps a trip to the ice-rink or whatever. As long as the four of us can do the fun together.
Our daughter may have lost all her beta cells but she discovered and embraced a whole new level of courage and bravery she did not own in the way she does now post her diagnosis.
And despite a great number of losses on so many levels there are not only losses to count. She did not lose her life. We still have our daughter. And for that we are incredibly thankful! 96 years ago that would not have been the case …
Each day our family of four cultivate courage, strength and bravery on a level we would not have been able to if it wasn’t for this disease. (Did I just write that?) Our daughter is beautiful and wise, mature, responsible, steadfast and bravely living with type 1 diabetes every day. And that is what we celebrate on her diaversary. Courage. Strength. Bravery. And Her.
Yes, it is hard and raw when we think back to some of the things we have had to endure along our T1D expedition. The starting point of our journey with T1D is most certainly not a happy memory for us. But our faith in God and our love for one another has kept us going whenever we thought we had zero strength left to face another day of T1D. And I think all of that really is worth a paused moment of commemoration.
Soon we will look into the eyes of our daughter on a day we wish we didn’t have to remember. But we will remember. And we will bravely swallow back the tears … or perhaps we won’t. And we will say to her: “Happy Diaversary darling.” And we will mean every word of it. Even the ‘happy’ part.
We will go out for ice cream and smile as we watch our daughter eagerly devour every mouthful of the cold sweetness she loves so very much. But first there will be that non-negotiable shot of insulin.
And while we celebrate we will remind ourselves of the things we are grateful for: life, family, insulin, hope, GOD, grace, each other, the life of our daughter, strength, courage …
And at the end of the day we will look at one another and say:
“HAPPY DIAVERSARY TO YOU, DARLING. HAPPY DIAVERSARY TO ALL OF US.”
Read My First Diaversary and the 6 Things I Learnt by Sid Sharma
Click HERE to download and send a Happy Diaversary GIF
