Needle Thin

For 10 years, I stabbed myself ,on average, 4 times a day. 

I’ve been diabetic for 11 years. That’s almost the same amount of time for a person to go through the school system. I guess in October of this year, it’ll be my graduation. But I’m not leaving anything behind; I’m not escaping anything.

The other night, I looked up “how long can a diabetic live without insulin?” The answers differed depending on the variables. But the conclusion for me was this:

1 week.

There isn’t much data to support this, as most diabetics don’t experiment with death on purpose. But estimations were that I would survive maybe one week, more or less.

So a vial is my source of life. But how I use it, that decides whether I live. Too much can kill me; too little can kill me.

My survival is based on numbers. The amount of carbs I guess I eat determines the amount of insulin I give myself. I’m playing a number game with death. One mistake can lead to seizures and eventually a coma if left untreated.

I’m fighting for my life everyday.

I guess life really is just about surviving for me.

But I will survive.


In response to The Daily Post’s prompt: Survival

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