It was July of 2008 when everything changed. I was only four years old, barely old enough to write my name or tie my shoes. I found myself in the middle of something no child could truly understand: a medical crisis that would shape the rest of my life. At first, no one knew what was wrong with me. I was constantly thirsty, always tired, and losing weight rapidly. I didn’t want to play, didn’t want to eat, and seemed to be slipping further away every day. My parents were terrified. They took me to the doctor, then to the emergency room, and finally, I ended up in the children’s hospital.
I was only eight years old when my world changed forever. What started as days of confusion, exhaustion, and unanswered questions turned into a fight for my life. For too long, no one could tell me why I felt so sick, why my body was shutting down. By the time the doctors finally discovered the truth, I was teetering on the edge of an irreversible state of diabetic ketoacidosis. That diagnosis, type 1 diabetes, along with celiac disease, didn’t just change my life. It saved it.
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