Saturday night was a wonderful night on many, many levels. Andy and I were at the Kansas City Juvenile Diabetes Research Fund Gala. A gala . . . can you imagine? I’m not sure when was the last time that I shopped for a formal dress that didn’t involve one of my daughters and the word “prom.” It was my night to step out with my man, who was quite darling in his tux. The dinner was delicious, the auction was entertaining, and our tablemates were interesting. We even ended up sitting next to some Methodists from Liberty!
Why, then, did I find myself spontaneously welling up with tears throughout the evening? Because, every now and then, the thought would hit me. “I really really don’t want to be here.” No, I didn’t have a better place to be that night. I did not want to be there because I did not want to be a part of the many families who are affected by juvenile diabetes. I still remember the shock of my daughter’s diagnosis and the days spent in pediatric i.c.u. I see her living daily with the failure of her pancreas. Unlike Type 2 diabetes, her diabetes will not go away with diet and exercise. She has an autoimmune disorder that means that her pancreas is gone for good, and she must rely on insulin to stay alive. Don’t get me wrong- I am thankful for the advent of insulin and JDRF’s ongoing search for the cure. But I really really wish that my daughter did not have to live with it firsthand.
And so, while waiting for a cure, we take the best care of her diabetes possible. We wear bracelets and pray for a cure. And, every now and then, we hide our pain by throwing a great big party and raising all the money we can to try to save the lives of people we love.
