Day of Cake, Day of Pain

On my first birthday as a diabetic, my lovely friends all tried to do something nice for me. Unfortunately, my three separate groups of friends did not communicate, so I had three separate birthday cakes.

Yup.

As I am a diabetic with the rotteness sweet tooth that ever lived in a mouth, all roads led to pain. Should I eat a little of all of the cakes and take on more sugar than I can actually handle? Or should I turn down cake, a herculean task that would hurt the feelings of the darling people who thought of me on my birthday? I kept my dilemma under my hat for the first two ceremonies, but at the third I broke down and confessed. A motherly roommate then patted my back and ushered the cake-bearer out of the room.

I had never been so glad to see cake go away.



My mom always forgets my birth date, which I don't really understand as shouldn't she be the one to remember it? After all, it was a pretty traumatic day for her body as well as mine.


I'm still excited about getting older - the longer I live, the harder it is to kill me. Antibodies!