Would I feel guilty? The question seems to swarm my mind at least a few times every year, and I wonder, would I feel guilty? Yes, there are many worse things in the world—cancer, muscular dystrophy, epilepsy. But, still, would I feel guilty?
As a young adult fighting this uphill battle of endless needles and pokes and having grown up proud to be able to finish my juice box in under 10 seconds when other kids took almost 20 seconds, I wonder, would I feel guilty?
Though I’m well adjusted and know how to handle myself in environments where there is absolutely nothing I could eat, and have learned to never let the food of an event stop me from attending one, would I still feel guilty?
Sure, they say, we’ll have a cure in no time, they say. And we’re decades down the line and nothing, not even a new treatment, has alleviated some stress. The vision of a cure is foreign, of multiple cures seems impossible. The hope always exists, yet is it enough to prevent me from feeling guilty?
Can I live with myself the day my son or daughter is inevitably diagnosed with diabetes, celiac disease, hypothyroidism, irritable bowel syndrome, food intolerances, Reynaud’s syndrome, any autoimmune disease? My answer has been, and still is, I really do not know.
I wish I could guarantee myself all the cures I need to make the positives in blood work become negatives. But without such a guarantee coming my way before it’ll be time to have children of my own, am I really prepared to face the probable inevitability that my children will have to deal, to some extent, with what I fight so hard to deal with every single day?
For my own mother, a diabetic herself, obviously she chose to leap into the unknown. But for me, the list is longer, and at what point is it too long? I must look through the lens of my life motto: See the big picture. There are worse things in the world, and as I mentioned above, worse health conditions I could be living with, and pass on. Ultimately, I will have my own children. I know that, by living through my everyday experience, that with enough family support, it is doable.
Yet, I still do not know how guilty I may feel.
We all know, and it’s obvious through my blog, that such a serious discussion and existence is not without some form of joke. So, there’s only one person I really feel like I can connect with about these issues–my dearest friend Will. I’ve known Will since mid-way through high school and we’ve been through the highs and lows of my existence and his battle with cystic fibrosis. I can’t imagine not having him in my life. Though we never really sit down and discuss the topic of children at length, it’s obviously creeped its way into our talks a few times. Ultimately, Will and I determined that we’d have the smartest, best looking kids, with the worst genetic pool. And if anyone else in the world told me that about my offspring, my blood would boil. But coming from Will, the only way I could ever respond with be with a smile and a giggle. Will, thank you for being there for me in a way others can’t. I will love you with all my heart always and forever.
Take it easy, but take it.