Staying alive sometimes takes priority over homework. At the age of five, I got a diagnosis that changed everything, there was no turning back. Blood sugar checks become routine, like brushing teeth or tying shoes. Insulin injections shaped each hour, every meal, all day long. My classrooms lessons would go on, but my mind listened for warning signs instead. A shaky hand meant trouble before anyone notices. Midway through class, my sugar would drop and changes how I handle schoolwork; my mind blurring and my heart racing. When testing, low blood sugar hit hard, shaking takes over my fingers, and my eye-sight gets hazy. Thinking slows, like wading through thick air, despite knowing answers just fine. Writing becomes clumsy, shaky lines forming words poorly. Frustration creeps in, seeing my test performance dip not because I did not know the material but due to things out of my control.
Getting to college means facing new hurdles. With no affordable housing near campus, I spend almost four hours every day on buses and trains instead. Tiredness from the trips piles up, making it harder to stay steady. When fatigue hits, my blood sugar can drop without warning, so I have had to pause mid-journey more than once just to eat something. Each unplanned stop stretches the trip further, landing me at lectures with little energy left to keep up. Even as I study, I hold down a job to pay for things like food and gear that help me manage my blood sugar through busy class schedules and rides across town. Juggling shifts, lectures, and a lifelong condition. Doing this all while borrowing money (loans) just to stay enrolled has made every single day a worry.
Still, I believe that those tough moments helped me grow in ways I did not expect. Facing daily demands of diabetes built toughness inside me, a steady routine, a voice for speaking up when things are unfair. Rather than letting barriers set boundaries, I found ways around them, kept walking ahead without stopping. Each step forward came from learning, adjusting, refusing to stay stuck.
Being who I am today comes from what I’ve lived through. Working as a Licensed Practical Nurse, my insulin pump tends to start conversations before I even speak. Patients managing diabetes seem to relax around me, sensing I’ve walked their path. They see the device on my body, then something shifts. Because of that, moments turn into real talk, not just routine checks. Knowing the struggle and being empathetic with my patients helps me stay present in ways textbooks never could teach.
Every step forward feels heavier when you're the first in your family to walk this path. Nursing school tests more than knowledge, it reveals strength shaped by late nights, tight budgets, and quiet struggles no one sees. Money decreasing every second, balancing class schedules and assignments, work shifts, and the moments when my body asks for rest I cannot give. This support would ease that weight just enough to breathe again. It means staying in class instead of clocking in. Staying focused instead of worn thin. One day soon, I will sit beside someone facing hurdles much like mine. When that moment comes, I’ll offer steady hands, but also an understanding that I can help them.