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One Day at a Time

Imagine you are a four-­‐year-­‐old little girl, lying on the grimy cement floor in the garage under your father's car. You are terrified that your parents will find you. You are aggravated at the fact that you have to receive another shot. They never stop. You hear the garage door creak open and the lights flicker on. Cringing, you curl up into a ball behind the tire, clutching onto it with your delicate fingers. The footsteps are light and you recognize it must be your mom. She calls your name and you hold your breath. You watch her feet travel over between the two cars. She bends down checking beneath the first, then turns her head to the left to find you. Your eyes meet and both immediately begin to fill with tears. You scream and kick as the tears stream down your tiny cheeks and she carries you inside. Your dad pins you down to the ground, begging you to stop fighting the injection. This is only the beginning of a long journey that will consume your entire life. You are living with type 1 diabetes and there is no escape. An origin is typically described as a place where something or someone is derived from. My origin is not a place, but rather a chain of events. Most people focus on defining themselves through their finest qualities. However, I believe that my identity is best explained by one overarching event that happened early on in my life, but continues to impact me to this day. In addition, it is the lifestyle I have come from. It is my origin. Throughout my life, I have faced a multitude of medical obstacles. Complications started at the age of three when I started experiencing common symptoms of leukemia. I can specifically remember my family doctor with his back facing me holding onto my mom by the shoulders. I will never forget my mother's reaction. Overcome by emotion, tears steamed down her face uncontrollably. She began convulsing and lost control of her body. My doctor screamed for the nurses as my mom blacked out. I started crying, telling my mom everything was going to be okay, and she was going to get better. What I couldn't understand was that I wasn't going to be okay. Less than an hour later, I found myself on the longest car ride I had yet to …