Um, after my mom, of course.
I'm with Andrew. My mom has a daughter with diabetes, and I have no idea how she (and my dad), managed to set me up so well for such a great life. When I was diagnosed my folks knew nothing about diabetes, which was about a postcard's-worth less than the docs knew at the time. They were sent home with a Weight-Watchers diet, some syringes and a bottle of NPH to try to keep me alive, and from what I hear their first question was "Does this mean we should cancel our trip to the shore?". They didn't. We have photos of runty me playing in the sand a week after my diagnosis, having the time of my life.
35 years later, I get sick and well and sick and well.... and mom is always right there, trying to break into my apartment to force feed me and ask loving questions until I lose it and sob out everything that's ever made me sad in my whole life. Thanks, mom :)