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November 24, 2010

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and tomorrow you will get to see what I’m thankful for.  Now you get to hear about my holiday life as a diabetic. 

**Cue in stories, because I don’t actually remember this.**  
I was four years old, and besides my birthday, I had never celebrated a holiday with diabetes.  (And by I, I actually mean we.)  On major holidays, my parents and I weren’t the only ones with diabetes, the grandparents and cousins all had it too.  And back then, there was a strict diet, with a strict time table as well.  For those of you who never had the caloric diet, please don’t feel bad.  It made me stronger and healthier and I still try to follow the basics of it.  That Thanksgiving was with my father’s side of the family, and my mother and grandmother had figured out the time, just for me.  I am an only child, and even though there were a lot less cousins in 1989, family affairs were still loud and didn’t start until all were present.  But that needed to change.  And everyone was told this.  The time rolled around when I needed to eat, and the chronically late uncle still wasn’t there. So the rest of sat down and ate.  We said grace, we ate our turkey, stuffing and other good foods and we got loud.  And then Uncle Dan walked in the door.  And although I don’t remember, I can picture “Mom!!” And her reply was something along the lines of “We told you it was different this year!  You should’ve listened.”  And by no means am I dissing my uncle, but like I said, he is chronically late.  (His daughter is now the same way, so when I want to see her, I tell her to show up a half hour earlier than I actually want to see her.)
It’s my original support group.  They were there at the beginning, and they’ll be there forever. 

And how will this affect me tomorrow?  For thirteen years, I couldn’t overeat on Thanksgiving.  But then I would see everyone else, unable to move, unbuttoning their pants and I thought, “you did this, why?”  Even after nine Thanksgivings where I can eat whatever I want.  My body doesn’t allow overeating; at the end of the day, I’ll feel good.  Tomorrow, I’ll enjoy apple pie martinis with my mother, and we’ll sit by the wood stove reminiscing about past Thanksgivings, I’ll enjoy the turkey, stuffing, pies, and all the other delicious food.  I will get to eat it all, because I’ll eat a lunch and a dinner, and I will feel fabulous.  It may not be the way most people experience this holiday, but it is the way me and my diabetes have celebrated it for 21 years.  Why change now?

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