A Letter To Diabetes,

Nice try…I bet you thought as a freshman in high school that I was an easy target. “This kid can’t find his locker; and he thinks he can handle me??” When we met, the doc told me that less than 1% of kids in the United States lived with type 1 diabetes. I’m not sure what their goal was in telling me that, but I bet it made you feel pretttty special. It made me feel alone; I remember that. No friends, no family, hell, no casual acquaintances knew about you, let alone lived with you. And as a teenager, I knew they wouldn’t understand me, let alone you.

Looking back, I guess I didn’t help you make any friends. I hid you as best I could, in my backpack and my pockets; I never introduced you to anyone, and if someone asked about you, I did a great job shutting them out. My family still barely knows you.

But you and I got close, quick. You kept me grounded, like swimming with an anchor around my waist. You did a good job of making sure I questioned everything, including my own abilities. But you made my circle tight, and my trust hard to earn. It’s easy to know who your best friends are when you’ve got a few who’ve saved your life.

But ironically, you kept me healthy. For 21 years, it’s kept me sane that feeling better is only a workout (and a dose of insulin) away. But even in my best moments, you’ve been there to bring me down a peg. Half marathon finish line crashes, best man speech spikes, vacation device failures. Each polaroid from my life was colored in some way by you. And every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you humble me, reminding me that, like you, I’m not perfect; no one is.

In the end, you gave me clarity and purpose. And for that I’m grateful. People think that the moment you become a man is tied to a milestone like a birthday, a black eye, a first beer, or a relationship. Mine is so much clearer than that. I became a man the moment I stopped hiding you and welcomed you into my life and my relationships. I let go of a lot of anger when that happened. Anger toward you, toward me, toward why we met, and toward anyone foolish enough to get in between us. And it’s crazy to think that something as simple as wearing Dexcom CGM made that change happen.

It’s been 10 years since I took that step forward. Since I put on my first Dexcom CGM. Each day wearing it a little more proudly than the day before. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that at the same time as that change in perspective, confidence, and openness, I met my wife, my best friend, and mother to my beautiful daughters, Kelly.

Now, walking through the streets of any city, any airport or beach, I see Dexcom CGM on people all around me. It’s shattered the illusion that it was ever just you and me out there. People all around me knew you too, people with their own lives, stories, and successes. You gave me a purpose that brought me here, to Dexcom. You gave me a community of friends, now family, climbing the same mountain as me. Some struggling at the same moments that I am; others have climbed higher, offering a hand of help.

This is the greatest gift you’ve given me. A purpose to deliver the same feeling of hope, confidence, community, and security to as many people as I can.

And for that I thank you.

Your friend,

-Alex