Hope is a complicated thing when you’ve lived with type 1 diabetes as long as we have.
I’ve raised two children with T1D, one diagnosed at age 2, the other at 13. I’ve seen the sleepless nights, the finger pricks, the alarms at 2 a.m., the quiet fear that never quite leaves. I’ve also spent more than 25 years in the diabetes community, advocating, producing, speaking, and fighting alongside families who live this every single day.
So when people say, “We’re managing it so well now,” I understand what they mean. Technology has come a long way. Continuous glucose monitors, insulin pumps, hybrid closed-loop systems, they’ve changed lives.
But let me be clear–management is not a cure.
Management still means thinking about diabetes every hour of every day. It means calculating every meal, every activity, every illness. It means carrying a mental load that never shuts off. It means living with risk, real risk, no matter how “controlled” things appear.
Hope for a cure isn’t naïve. It’s necessary.
Without hope, progress stalls. Without hope, funding dries up. Without hope, we accept “good enough” for a disease that demands everything from the people living with it.
I’ve seen what this community can do when it believes in something bigger. I’ve watched families turn pain into purpose. I’ve watched kids grow into advocates. I’ve watched science move forward because people refused to stop believing that better, much better, is possible.
A cure means freedom.
Freedom from the constant calculations.
Freedom from fear in the middle of the night.
Freedom for parents who just want their kids to be kids.
We owe it to every diagnosed child, and every adult who has carried this burden for decades, to keep pushing.
Not just for better tools.
Not just for better outcomes.
But for an end.
We have to keep hoping. Because hope is what drives action. And action is what will get us to a cure.
I’m a Diabetes Dad.Please visit my Diabetes Dad FB Page and hit ‘like.’ Tagged diabetes, diabetes dad, diabetes inspiration