For those not part of the club (the club of us cool folk with chronic disease), a "diaversary" is the anniversary of being diagnosed with diabetes. I sort of consider today my diaverasry. My first one.
My diaversary could be just as easily called August 30th, because that was the date of the appointment when my endocrinologist told me that tests had confirmed my diabetes, but August 2nd was the date when he first threw the diagnosis at me. August 2nd was the day that I was sitting in my car in the parking lot talking long distance with my father in Niagara Falls, and sharing a flurry of texts with one of my best friends in Nova Scotia. August 2nd was when I started a brief ice cream bender and daily fasting blood glucose tests and wondered what was next.
I feel like I should take stock of the last year, but in other ways there's so little to tell. I've only been doing basal insulin for a few months and bolus insulin for a few weeks, and frankly I'm still a little amazed to see double-digits on the glucose meter despite them not being all that uncommon anymore. I've not really had any scary highs or lows and I'm still pumpless and figuring out carbs as I go. I've learned the annoyance of forgoing grabbing some chips and salsa that everyone else was eating because I'm too damn lazy to bolus for it, but I've not learned much else.
I got bigger in the last year. The number on the scale keeps climbing, but that's more to do with the treatment of my Grave's disease than anything else. It sucks for climbing, but it's been working just fine for the lifting. I've still not got the best habits for keeping myself healthy, but I'm working on it.
I've no great revelations in the end. This, just like anything else, is a thing that's become part of my life which I'm adapting to. It was a challenge that now over time is turning into normal.