The Good

I strongly believe that out of bad, there can come good. And I saw it this week...

Friday, my sister Sarah had coffee with my Nurse Practitioner, Shannon. Shannon has been my NP at Children's Hospital since I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and, every three months for the past four years, I've seen either her or my endocrinologist (my favorite endocrinologist, Dr. R., however, was recently offered a job as Head of Endocrinology at another children's hospital so he'll be leaving me). My sister was meeting with Shannon this week to discuss Yale--Shannon graduated from Yale's Nurse Practitioner program and became the influence and encouragement for my sister to apply there, as well.

So, I became a diabetic >> I met Shannon >> Sarah met Shannon >> Shannon gave Sarah the courage to apply to Yale >> Sarah grew some balls, applied and was accepted. And come Fall, she's going to go through a great program that will help to make her an awesome NP one day.

Congratulations on Yale, Sarah

Yesterday, my big sister got her acceptance letter to Yale's Graduate School for Nursing! She must now choose between Ohio State (with scholarship and fellowship included), Columbia College and Yale University. No pressure.

Regardless of her ultimate choice, I am so incredibly proud of her. I shit you not, my sister has been working her ass off since middle school. She deserves this more than anyone I know. And she is going to make an amazing Nurse Practitioner.

Although...if she chooses to attend Yale, it'll be the farthest apart we've ever been. It feels like my freshman year of high school all over again--we get to spend one year together and then she's off. The eleven hours of separation (as opposed to the two blocks separating us now) scares me a little bit...but I want her to go where she will be the happiest.

When did my sister become a grown up? When did I stop calling her "my sissy" and "Sar Bear"? And, if she's an adult now, how close behind am I?

From my sister Abby

Even some of my closest friends have been totally surprised to discover that I have two more older siblings. The reason being that my half-brother and half-sister are more than a decade older than me - Seth is 28, Abby is almost 30 - and they lived with us only for brief periods of time when I was very young.

Moreover, Abby and Seth had radically (quite literally) different adolescences that my sister Sarah and I could never relate to. Both of them suffered an array of behavioral and mental problems after witnessing a messy divorce between my father and their mother. So, as a result of much of this, we never became very close.

It was never "my sister Abby," it was always "my half-sister Abby."

As I've gotten older, however, that has begun to change. I've been able to connect much more with Abby and Seth in recent years. After I got my tattoo, Abby called to commend me and, since then, we've been e-mailing a couple times a week - which is probably the most we've ever communicated in my entire life. In those e-mails, I've learned so much more about my sister - her thoughts and experiences at the CDC, her advice on college, how my relationship with Adam mirrors her relationship with her husband, etc.

In all, we have come a long way as a family.

This is a recent e-mail I received from Abby that meant a lot to me...

"Okay, this was going to be longer......but I just wrote something nice and long, and then hit the friggin delete key by accident. So you get the abbreviated version now--argh!

Anyway, having just spent about 20 minutes listening to one of my favorite--albeit often gloomy and awesomely sarcastic (I appreciate dry wit--as it's the kind I favor myself!)--co-workers bemoan her possiblilty of being diagnosed with celiac disease, I had ample time (in the private of my head, that is) to marvel at your own comparatively stalwart reaction to diabetes. This woman was certain that being so diagnosed at age 32 was a tragedy, a tragedy! And I'll admit, I had to sympathize--no bakery goods would be hell for me! But she was so morose and pessimistic--so absolutely without hope or resilience--that it put my experience with you in better perspective. I've often heard Dad marvel that you don't bitch about your diabetes, but it takes listening to the bitching of someone with a similiar, life-long chronic condition to underscore how admirable your strength really is."