Wishful Thinking

06/16/08 Type I Diabetes or Juvenile Diabetes

“You don’t get what you wish for. You get what you work for.” I read this quote while walking behind one of my school’s cross-country track stars, and was taken aback.

So many of today’s t-shirts speak to apathy and disinterest (“Genius by birth. Slacker by choice.”). It was nice to see one that was the polar opposite. I also appreciated the ethic behind the message. It reminded me of the adage, “You reap what you sow.”

As someone who strives for success in every element of my life, I nodded at the quote and its principals, but as the athlete turned the corner, felt a sudden moment of doubt. Why were wishes so quickly dismissed as unimportant, or, at least, not vital for success, when they have unparalleled potential?

When I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at 12, my doctor talked of a cure within 10 years, possibly sooner. I immediately began wishing, literally closing my eyes and mouthing the words. Countless times during the first year after diagnosis I stared out my bedroom window at the stars, scanning the sky for the elusive and supposedly rewarding shooting variety. Soon, however, the conversation with my doctor took a turn, and the notion of being cured came with the contingency that only the healthiest and tightly controlled would be considered. 

I have no idea if this was simply a clever way for my doctor to instill the value of tight control and proper self-care, or if this was indeed the medical dogma of the time. Whichever, it worked. I dug in and honed my skills for dealing with the disease, yet did not lose my wishful thinking. Instead, my efforts became the path toward its actualization.

Years later and still uncured, I surrendered to the idea of an insulin pump. I viewed the device as the next best thing, and an excellent way to keep control. I also wished that it would bring a degree of flexibility and a sense of freedom that living under type 1 through adolescence had eroded. I hooked up and began my regimen without looking back, fully anticipating the burdens to fall away. Many did, and I often found myself euphoric at the ease of care, but free? No, not free, and that scorched my hope, marred my desire, and made me think all my wishing had been for naught.

Then my lab results came back demonstrating that through excellent care, my body is as healthy if not healthier than people without diabetes. I quickly regained my sense of my pump as salvation, a way to gain freedom. I realized it would keep me healthy for the duration, keep me as my doctor indicated I’d need to be, in order to be considered for the oncoming cure.

My wishing, therefore, has become pragmatic. It’s a way for me to outline a plan for success. In this light, no dream or wish can be called foolish. Wishing is a hope for success and success is when “opportunity meets preparation.” I’m prepared and hopeful and still watching the stars, working toward this wish, every single day.

Eric Devine, 30, has lived with type 1 diabetes since he was 12. He lives in upstate New York with his wife and two daughters where he works as a high school English teacher. Devine is an avid writer and is currently seeking publication of two Young Adult novel manuscripts.