I hate school.
All of the teachers are mean.
My friends are jerks.
The janitor cleans the lunch table with a floor mop.
Everyone there is stupid. I wish I could stay home.
Then tears. And
I’ll never get to be an astronaut because I have diabetes.
Make Bigfoot cry too. Who knew Bubs interested become astronaut? Space science unit at school, lots of NASA. Even if person not interested become astronaut, science unit spark interest. Maybe every day read astronauts this, astronauts that. Maybe child start to think cool! I want to do that and then boot kick gut: that’s one of the things I can’t do.
Diagnosis day, among first bright-cheery lessons with CDE: You can still do everything you’ve always done! You can be anything you want to be, with three exceptions: flying a commercial airplane in the United States, joining the armed forces, or becoming an astronaut. You can be a commercial pilot in Canada, and you can get a pilot’s license and fly your own private jet!
At time, seems so random. Why say these words to just-diagnosed child? Such narrow slice denied opportunities. Still so hurt feelings. Should shield diabetic child this information, more than any kidney-eye-limb-whatevers. This hurts right now, today. You’re a very nice, smart, capable person. It’s just that you’re way too much trouble to take to the moon.
Do you think I could be a firefighter? Or no, they wouldn’t want me.
Begin think need change these laws. But then think a diabetic person totally shouldn’t do those jobs. What if he was in space and all of the insulin went bad? But also think diabetes makes everything too much of a pain. So if OK T1 person drive car, buy groceries, perform surgery, operate wrecking ball, why not live in space? Even perfect-specimen astronaut requires elaborate supplies, survive in space.