Can I tell you a secret? The thing I want to do most in life, I can’t. I was 4 years old when I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes (T1D). Finger sticks, carb counting, and shots became daily life. My parents instilled a mantra in me that I could do anything I wanted. By high school I was unstoppable. I swam on varsity swim team, sang and danced in show choir, acted in school musicals and regularly had my CGM (continuous glucose monitor) ripped off by opponents on the water polo team. Juice boxes in the theater wings, fruit snacks stuffed in my pockets during a choir performance and coaches carrying my glucose tabs all in preparation for a low blood sugar. I refused to let T1D stop me. Then came my junior year. On a whim, I signed up for a JROTC class my freshman brother was taking. I knew nothing about the volunteering opportunities, physical and academic competitions and community that lived behind Sarge's classroom door. I jumped my Air Force issued boots into a world I fell in love with. I volunteered for as many community service hours I could pack into my schedule, I ran around the woods at night with my fellow cadets at orienteering competitions and I solo flew a plane for 2 minutes with the Civil Air Patrol. Have I mentioned that the OCP pockets on the required uniform hold four juice boxes and six packs of gummies at once? By the end of the year I was the most decorated first year cadet. At the start of second semester senior year I was named Cadet Commander of the entire 82 cadet unit at my high school. My brother was thriving too. He always knew he would go into the military with a goal to attend USMA, West Point. I never had an interest to join the military. After my T1D diagnosis our family’s catchphrase was “Connor can do anything he wants with T1D, except join the military”. It never occurred to me that the military might be something I was interested in…until it was. T1D had finally hit a hard stop in my life. I understand the reason why the rule exists for T1Ds, there are no corner Walgreens on a battlefield to pick up my life sustaining insulin. But I still feel jilted for the first time knowing I will never ride in a Blackhawk helicopter as a military med corps nurse rushing to assist the men and women in uniform that I respect so much. I can’t help but try and find a way to fit T1D into my goals like I have done most of my life. I will still be a nurse, that goal and desire has never wavered. My new dream is to be an ER flight nurse assisting patients in trauma aboard a Life Flight helicopter. I refuse to waste time dwelling on what life could be without T1D. I would rather spend that energy studying for my Anatomy class or working with T1D charities as an outreach volunteer, meeting with the newly diagnosed T1D families to show them that life is still filled with hope and opportunities.

I am the secret keeper among my friends. I am the friend who everyone comes to when they need a confidant, an advisor or just a sounding board as I am a good listener. So it was not a surprise to me in March of my sophomore year of high school when my close friend, "Jane" asked me to keep her secret. Jane told me she would not be returning for the remainder of the school year. Her parents were checking her into a clinic. She asked me through her tears to not tell anyone. I believe she wanted me to know because she knew I would not judge her. She knew I would welcome her back one day with open arms. She knew she would need a friend on the other side of her journey. Jane and I met in middle school. Four elementary schools fed into one middle school. Kids who still didn't know who they were all melded together in locker filled halls. Gone were the days of recess and assigned lunch tables. We were now worldly 6th graders who got to choose their electives and carried cell phones, even if they did still have parental controls on them. It was inevitable that Jane and I would become close friends. We were both in Honor Choir, Theater class and tried out for the musical together. Although, I was robbed of the male lead, Jane flourished as the sassy female lead that brought a hush to the audience every time she glided on stage. In both life and on stage, Jane was a star. She was confident, funny and self-aware. Everyone who come in contact with Jane wanted to be around her, myself included. So it surprised me freshman year of high school when Jane stopped trying out for productions. I chalked it up to her being busy with other activities. We were all trying to navigate this new adolescent life. We were all changing. Jane's transformation, however, was not one of growth but rather a regression. I knew Jane's parents were going through a messy divorce. We had spoken at length about it the year before. Jane blamed her mom who brought her new boyfriend to family events, much to Jane's protests. Jane had struggled through middle school with an eating disorder as well. However, this topic was off limits per Jane. By high school the tiny five foot fiery girl seemed to morph overnight into a shadow of herself. She dressed different, as if the smaller she became the larger size clothes she would buy. Never one to pry, as I had seen other friends cast aside if they showed "too" much concern. I made sure I always checked in with Jane, invited her to events and sent her a reel I knew we would both find funny. I had no idea how bad things were with Jane until her parents intervened. The revelation that she was taking pills from family members seemed unreal. Adderall from her brother, Percocet from her grandmother and all washed down with glasses of wine which was how her mom discovered it all. Jane is much better now. The help she got truly saved her life. She sees a therapist weekly and I am grateful for the people who helped Jane regain her spark. As I start college as a Nursing Major, my goal is to work in the ER. I want to be that front line for people who need help. I want to make sure the Janes of the world return home to their friends who love them.

Can I tell you a secret? The thing I want to do most in life, I can’t. I was 4 years old when I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes (T1D). Finger sticks, carb counting, and shots became daily life. My parents instilled a mantra in me that I could do anything I wanted, we just had to fit T1D into the activity. By high school I was unstoppable. I swam on the varsity swim team, sang and danced in the show choir, acted in school musicals and regularly had my CGM (continuous glucose monitor) ripped off by opponents on the water polo team. I could do anything. Juice boxes in the theater wings, fruit snacks stuffed in my pockets during a choir performance and coaches carrying my glucose tabs. I refused to let T1D stop me. Then came my junior year. On a whim, that year I signed up for a JROTC class my freshman brother was taking. I knew nothing about the volunteering opportunities, physical and academic competition teams and community that lived behind that classroom door. I jumped my Air Force issued boots into a world I fell in love with. I volunteered for as many community service hours I could pack into my schedule, I ran around the woods at night with my fellow cadets at orienteering competitions and I solo flew a plane for 2 minutes with the Civil Air Patrol. Have I mentioned that the OCP pockets on the required uniform hold four juice boxes and six packs of gummies at once? By the end of the year I was the most decorated first year cadet. At the start of second semester I was named Cadet Commander of the entire 82 cadet unit at my high school. My brother was thriving too. He always knew he would go into the military with a goal to attend USMA, West Point. I never had an interest to join the military. After my T1D diagnosis our family’s catchphrase was “Connor can do anything he wants with T1D, except join the military”. It never occurred to me that the military might be something I was interested in…until it was. T1D had finally hit a hard stop in my life. I understand the reason why the rule exists, there is no corner Walgreens on a battlefield to pick up my life sustaining insulin for when I run out. But I still feel jilted for the first time knowing my goal to be a trauma nurse will be regulated to a hospital ER and not a Blackhawk helicopter as a military med corps nurse. I can’t help but try and find a way to fit T1D into my future goals. I have learned that I can work at a hospital on base as a trauma nurse for the men and women in uniform that I respect so much. I refuse to waste time dwelling on what life could be without T1D. I would rather spend that energy on learning my lines for the spring musical, studying for Anatomy or my next JROTC orienteering competition, because some of those maps are impossible to read in the woods at night.