Dear Me...

I am in school now, part time, 3 days a week.  I'm working on getting a certification for Medical Assistant.  I LOVE school.  Perhaps because I never "did" school before, or perhaps because I love the idea of having a bunch of books about medicine and anatomy and physiology around to poke through  at my leisure.  I've always had a love of medicine; a fascination if you will.  Medical Assistant is something to start me off.  I doubt it will satisfy me for long, but the homework load now, the commute to and from school, and everything in between is enough for me right now.  As my friend Jen says, "My dance card is full."

This term I have a business writing course.  Thursday night's assignment in class was thought provoking.  The instruction was to write a letter to ourselves, post dated two years from the current date.  What was life going to be like?  What were key points in our lives that would be highlighted that we would focus on?

I knew what mine would say right away.  It took me less than 25 minutes to write it.  Boom.

Dear Me,

As I sit here with my Grey Goose Martini, stirred, up, with a twist, mind you, and I reflect on my day, the sun is setting and the sky has a beautiful orange and red glow. I often wonder how I managed to let the last two years go y me so quickly and with so much substance.

My oldest child is styling hair in New York City at a fine Salon, living the life only a single girl could.  This is the place she belongs, and she has excelled in ways I knew she always could.  My beautiful daughter Libby was nominated by her peers as class president in eighth grade.  This has sent her self-esteem soaring!  My handsome and only son, my favorite boy in the entire solar system, Tucker, has progressed so well in lacrosse the last two years that scouts are fighting over him at games on the weekends.  Talk of scholarships at Ivy League colleges are buzzing.  The two younger girls, Greta and Margot, have successfully finished and started elementary school, respectively, and I am starting to see the end of elementary years in sight.  They are happy.  they laugh and giggle and sleep in the same bed still.  What more can I ask for them?

My handsome and driven husband, who has worked so hard for himself and our family over the years, has started his own business.  His life changed when a business proposition fell into his lap, literally overnight.  His lifelong dream has come true; so well deserved.  "3 Minutes of Ecstasy, The Perfect Pop Song," his own music store on Main Street has blossomed with substantial customers and a wonderful following of supporters and patrons.  Life is good.

Myself... I finished Medical Assistant school at Branford Hall.  I had a great time and studied with a diverse group of gals.  Our monthly meet ups at Eli's on the Hill were just what we needed to bond as we did.  My intention when I finished a few months ago was to take all the offers friends and acquaintances gave to me and dive right in.

But I didn't.

For about a week now, I haven't done anything.

Today I sat.  I sat outside... I sat inside.  Five of the six children were in school.  I had coffee on the front porch after a beautiful seven mile run early this moring with my girlfriends as the sun rose over Long Island Sound.  I watched the community pass by my house; walkers, rollerbladers, runners, cyclists... all enjoying what the weather had to offer.  The morning sun warmed up and I had a second cup of coffee with a fresh-baked scone.  As the day went on, I changed my sitting locations.  I didn't answer any phone calls or do anything social.

Today, I cried.  Yesterday I cried.  And for days before that, I cried.

But not in a sad way.

My tears through sobs are tears of pure joy and happiness.

You see, Betsey is cured of diabetes.  Yale discovered a cure and set it into motion with our daughter as one of the case studies for the cure.  Because of this, she no longer is a type 1 diabetic.

Betsey doesn't have the crutch that, for over eight years, dictated her life.  She doesn't have to count carbohydrates every time she eats and calculate a mathematical equation to determine an insulin-to-carb ratio.  She doesn't have to worry about hospital runs when the stomach bug comes through our house.  She doesn't have to worry about forgetting to change her pump site on the third day for fear she'll have high blood sugars over night and wake up with ketones, sick and dehydrated.  She wears a dress now, beautiful as ever, but with no visual appearance of an apparatus bulging out of her side.  She can have a cupcake at a friend's birthday party without thinking twice about it.  Her little fingers have healed over from the hundreds of thousands of fingers stick pokes that she was require to inflict upon herself over the years to obtain blood glucose readings.  She can frolic at the beach, not worrying about sand in her injection sites becoming infected  She can swim in the ocean endlessly on a hot summer day until her extremities are pruned.  She can decide when she wants to get out, just because she wants to.

So I cry because I am happy.  I cry because something I have hoped for since March 13, 2005 has come true.  I am relishing in the freedom my sweet girl now possesses.  I can sleep through the night for the first time without worrrying about whether or not I'll get a good morning kiss from her sunny self because I know I will.  Because I know diabetes won't take her life as she sleeps, and she will have the promise of a new day, every day.