Tag Archives : Essays

The Cyclist in “Stop Diabetes” Lycra


It was the perfect day for a bike ride for me, and it was an embarrassing one for my wife. At 7 a.m. I clicked into the pedals on my dark blue Specialized Allez road bike and pushed off toward my friend Ed’s house. I looked up at the cloudless pastel blue sky with yellows and reds radiating from the east. Goosebumps appeared…

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The Diabetic Dad and the Delayed Delivery


My wife and I were in the delivery room about to give birth to our first child. Now, before I get too far into this story, I need to explain that my wife, Heidi, is from New Jersey. If that fact means nothing to you, go to Netflix and watch a couple episodes of “Jersey Shore.” Or don’t and be…

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Diabetics in Love


Kim was my first real girlfriend, and by “real girlfriend,” I mean we made out in the front seat of my 1967 green Rambler, a car we called the Rolling Rock. Like me, Kim had type-1 diabetes. In fact, that’s what brought us together, besides the fact that she was really cute, and I had a car. When we first…

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Tribute to a Diabetes Hero


Many of my heroes as a teenager were athletes; Their Sports Illustrated covers plastered the walls of my room. Heroes like Pete Rose, David Thompson, and, well, Christie Brinkley. Oh, and Ron Santo, a Chicago Cub who, like me, lived and played baseball with Type-1 diabetes. And did I mention  Christie Brinkley, who, as far as I know, didn’t have Type-1 diabetes,…

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The Year I Was Banned from the Olympic Games


1972 was a big year for me–the year of the Olympic Games, and I was participating. I was 12 years old and won 27 gold medals. At least I should have. The other competitors, Tim Ward, age 11, and Jeff Ward, age 10, competed too. The events all took place in my backyard, garage, basement, and around our neighborhood on…

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Camp Hamwi and THE Shot


Relying on your mom to give you your insulin injections has its disadvantages, especially when she’s mad at you and hasn’t taken (what she called) her “nerve pills.” Like the time when I was 13 and I got mud on her freshly cleaned kitchen floor, and later when she gave me my shot, she wiggled and twisted the needle around…

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How NOT to Teach an 11-Year-Old Boy to Give Himself a Shot


I could give a shot to an orange, a grapefruit, and a nurse, but I couldn’t inject myself. I was 11 years old and had just been diagnosed with Type-1 diabetes. I spent the next three weeks in the hospital, where the nurses schemed to teach me to give my own shot. After three weeks of trickery, deceit, and blackmail,…

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Living Healthy with Diabetes and Proving the Doctors Wrong


When I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at age 11, Doctor Stagaman told my mom I probably wouldn’t live past 40 and definitely not past 50. He also told her there was a good chance I wouldn’t be able to have children. I don’t know what it is about me, but I really, really enjoy proving doctors wrong! I have had…

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