At the tender age of 9, standing at a mere 4 feet tall, my life took an unexpected turn. I was catapulted into early adulthood by an unwelcome companion named "Diabetes," giving me responsibilities that I wasn’t prepared for. The innocent joys of indulging in cake and sweets at parties were abruptly replaced with the harsh reality of managing a chronic condition. My mother, herself acquainted with the nuances of diabetes, was my initial lifeline, guiding me through the ups and downs of this life-altering disease.
When I first got diagnosed with diabetes, I was overwhelmed. The sheer volume of new information and the radical shift in lifestyle expectations were too much for a 9-year-old. The daily task of pricking my finger to test my blood sugar , coupled with the realization that even a seemingly harmless hidden treat could dictate my blood sugar levels and other symptoms, often left me feeling defeated and helpless.
