There are moments
in life when time literally stops.
Pivotal points in our timeline where there’s a distinct before and a distinct
after. Unable to go back. Life as we once knew it forever changed. Twenty years ago today, our family clock
paused for what seemed like an eternity.
The words that came out of our pediatrician’s mouth forever etched in my
distraught brain. Crystal clear and so
very blurry all at the same time. Not
unlike a very bad dream. Type 1 Diabetes. Insulin therapy for life. Or until a cure is found. I didn’t take the news very well. Even if on the outside it looked like I did. I didn’t cry.
So many emotions. Frozen solid. Overwhelmed by this groundless feeling. Intense anger over infinite sadness. In this surreal standstill, my fight instinct
immediately kicked in. Flight wasn’t an
option. The father in me desperately
trying to rescue my beloved two year old baby daughter from this imminent
aggressor. The bike racer in me
literally sprinting against this uninvited chronic life-threatening condition. I didn’t sleep. For years.
I just kept stomping on these pedals and attacking relentlessly. Truly believing that I could beat it. My entire existence consumed by these numbers. My sole mission to fix this. During my first breakdown in 2015, my doctor
told me that I’d lasted longer than she thought I would. The endurance athlete in me at the time taking
it as a compliment. Not realizing that
all I had accomplished was bury myself in a much deeper hole. I did some damage. To my body.
To my psyche. No doubt about
it. Maybe twenty years is long enough to
be holding my breath in denial. Inhale. Exhale.
Sit up. Soft pedal. And enjoy the rest of the ride. This will all be over soon.