I have diabetes . . . and I'm lucky.
I count and weight and measure . . . and I'm lucky.
I prick and jab and bleed . . . and I'm lucky.
I inject and pump and bolus . . . and I'm lucky.
I walk and dance and (occasionally) lift some weights . . . and I'm lucky.
I'm lucky because I have options. I have choices. Yes, sometimes I slip. Other times, I make all the best choices and the numbers are still off. But that's okay. I can correct . . . adjust . . . make my next choice a better one.
My uncle has been battling cancer. He's had multiple surgeries, chemo, treatments and procedures. Last week the doctors said it still isn't working. He is out of options. There are no more choices. There is nothing left to try. No reason left to fight.
So today, I know I am lucky. I'll go to my endo appointment tomorrow. If my A1C doesn't meet my secret expectation of well under 6.5, I won't let myself get upset this time. I'll be thankful for my choices and thankful for my options. I'll remember how lucky I am . . . and fight some more.