Diabetes has affected me profoundly. I am a teenage girl who has been diabetic for twelve years, and I was diagnosed when I was young but I wasn?t too young to not remember. I hate being diabetic. I hate diabetes so much. Every day I wish I didn?t have it. I wish that diabetes didn?t exist. I would trade almost anything to not be diabetic. For twelve years I have suffered through finger tests, needles, pump sight changes for so long. I am just so tired of it. Do you remember when you were first diagnosed? I do. The nurses told me that it was all going to be ok, and that they expected to find a cure within the next five years. Five years later, they told me they were still five years away, and so on and so on. I was diagnosed two days before my birthday, after collapsing into a lake near my house. I was still young, but I remember that I was happy because I was getting special attention. I didn?t realize that instead of smiling, I should have been crying. I know that I am one of the lucky ones, my parents are really supportive, and until I started school I was closely looked after. In my elementary school (that was two minutes from home); I was one of those girls who always did as they were told. I never asked questions are wondered why I had to put up with all the difficulties that came with diabetes. I was never considered particularly smart, and when the time came for us to choose a junior high to go too, my parents told me that the best place for me was an all girls' school. Suddenly, I was across town, my parents didn?t know what was going on during school, and I started to realize a few things. First, I realized that I actually had a voice, I started talking in school and eventually I was at the top of the class. I started to also realize that I was angry. I was angry that I had to put up with diabetes; I wondered why I had to feel sick and why I always had to watch what I ate. I was starting to be consumed by my desire to be cured. I had realized that I didn?t want to be diabetic anymore, and so I discovered a way to get the blood glucose numbers I wanted without actually finger testing. I lied to my parents, and for the first time I was free of my diabetes. I forgot that I had it most of the time. I managed to keep my secret for two years, my parents and the nurses were confused about my numbers. One day I was so high that I could only sit on the couch and throw up and stupidly, I told my parents that everything was fine. My parents found out that night, and my dad was so mad that he drove me out o the hospital and told me to look at all the people with amputated limbs, because I was going to become one if I didn?t smarten up. I had hurt my parents; I betrayed their trust by not looking after myself. I came in to the diabetes clinic with n average number of twenty-four. My parents told the nurses what I had been doing and I was scorned. I wasn?t sorry for what I had done though, I am still not. I was hurt too, I hurt every time I had to take a needle, and every time some kid looked at my test kit and wondered if I was some sort of freak. I continued to be angry at the world, and I quickly discovered another way to get the blood sugar numbers they wanted without actually having them. By this time, I was even angrier, for everything I did I always wondered, ?What if I wasn?t diabetic,? and it was making my life miserable. I returned to the clinic again and snapped at the nurses, they quickly responded by sending me down the hall to the psychiatrist. For six months I lied through my teeth to the psychiatrist, and she and I both knew it. She didn?t understand what I was going through; she didn?t realize how it feels to be diabetic. For anyone reading this; the only people, who can understand diabetes, are the people who have it. No number of years in medical school will compete with actually living and breathing diabetes. Diabetes was isolating me from people I used to know. I was confused and instead of being angry, I was sad. I was lucky enough to be sent to diabetes camp that summer (I would highly recommend it for anyone interested). I had been attending this camp once a year since I was nine and I loved it. That year though, I went hoping to find people that were going through the same things I was. I met some nice people but I did not know anyone enough to really be able to relate. Instead, I saw eight year olds. They looked so young and healthy, but they were all diabetic. It broke my heart. To see them finger testing and taking needles. It was awful. I started to think less about my problems, and more about what other kids were going through. Sometimes I still get angry and sad. The doctors and nurses never told me the real truth. Right now, I am still living in Canada, I am suffering from kidney problems though, my circulation problems are making it hard for me to type, and I am steadily losing my vision more and more each year. I now know that if I ever wanted to start a family, it would be hard for me because of my diabetes. I also know that there is a significant chance that I will be dead before I turn fifty. I am not writing this to scare anyone reading this. I am writing this because I wish I could have known sooner than later the impact that diabetes would have on my life.