Each day, people are exposed to many situations and react accordingly. Some of these events are meaningful, as when one looks back on the event, they realize that they have changed in some way because of the experience. Sometimes the change in their ways is a positive change, and sometimes it is negative, but nevertheless people change after meaningful experiences. One experience that I deem meaningful and that has changed me for the better is when I was diagnosed with diabetes.
February has never been my favorite month. In my family, the month of February doesn't involve love and romance but involves mostly tragedy and despair. Relatives have died, injuries have occurred, illnesses have been contracted, so far I don't believe a positive event has occurred during February. Usually when the month rolls around I hold my breath and hope that nothing bad happens. In February of 1994, an event occurred that made me and my whole family transform into a completely different set of people. Three months prior, I was a seven year old second grader, who was about four feet, eight inches tall, and about 64pounds. By February I was a seven year old second grader, who was the same height but lost 16 pounds and spent most of my time for three months sleeping. I would go to school for one day and then be out for three days, consistently for three months. Doctors were baffled by my condition, my parents had to deal with the fact that I could have contracted just about anything. Finally, my pediatrician felt it was necessary to do a wide scale of blood tests to determine my illness.
On the first day of February, 1994, my pediatrician called around noon with the test results and a diagnosis of my illness. Just as the phone rang I had finished off a six pack of Capris Sun that my mom had bought me about an hour before. I was lieing on the couch, glazed over and unaware of what was going on. The doctor told my mom that I had juvenile diabetes and that it was necessary to rush me to the hospital immediately.