Happy Birthday Little Brother

Happy Birthday Little Brother.  This year as you turn 24 (holy cow, you’re 24, I’m so old) your Diababy turns 1.  I’ve read a number of “when I was diagnosed” stories in which people were diagnosed around Halloween, Thanksgiving, or Christmas, and they complain about the “worst [holiday] ever.”  Honestly though, I think yours takes the cake.  On your birthday, really that just sucks.  Them guys ain’t got nothin’ on you, bro.  In a way, I feel fortunate that I was so young when my Diababy showed up because I cannot remember when it’s birthday is.  I know it is a few months older than you because Mom was pregnant with you when I was in the hospital.  Time-relativity to a three-ish year old is so much different than to someone who actually knows what day of the week it is.  Mom and Dad didn’t focus on when I was diagnosed but rather just learning how to take care of me, so I don’t even think they know when my Diababy’s birthday is.  Plus, I was way more excited about my future-little-brother, who even cared about Diabetes?  Not me!  Just think about this: When you are 46, your Diababy will be a young, spritely 23 while my Diababy will be a crotchety old 46 year-old.  In a way, you’re lucky that you were a little older; you missed out having Diabetes as a teenager.  So, you got that going for you.  Anyway, I hope someday you can forget the actual birthday of your Diababy.  I have high hopes because rumor has it most dudes are pretty bad at remembering birthdays, right?

Here’s the thing, though, Little Brother, I’m so proud of you.  Everyone has good days and everyone has bad days.  Frustration is part of the game.  You’re a champ, don’t forget that.

P.S. Your birthday card will be a little late, sorry.