I’ve been thinking about this for two days, Cherise. I was a very happy child and always very positive about my diabetes. I woke from my DKA coma to tell my mom it was going to be okay before going under again. I was always very Pollyanna about it. I liked explaining it to people but liked to do it on my own terms - never as ‘hey, this is melissa the diabetic child.’
BUT…I can’t think of a “diabetic” moment of childhood that was “happy,” per se. The moments where I was aware of being diabetic were generally when I felt ostracized, was having a low, had to eat more than I wanted (ah, the huge meal exchange serving days - I used to have sausage, orange juice, alba cocoa, cereal, and toast w/ butter every morning to get my meats, fruit, dairy, 2 starches, and fat in!), or when my mom made too big a deal to teachers about it.
I guess I liked going to “Clinic” every three months at the children’s hospital. I got to miss a whole day of school, we drove into downtown Dallas, and there was a long model train set in the lobby. I liked going and being praised for having pretty, well-kept, color-coordinated logs (even if my numbers were hell). Got to see my endo, my CDE, my dietitian, and the social worker all in one trip. I still have my hello kitty autograph book from my 8-day diagnosis stay with all the doctors’ and nurses’ signatures. I thought the children’s hospital was fun, I suppose. Or it just made me feel “special” to be there.
I’m just saying that happy childhood memories seem to be separated in my mind from the diabetic memories.