Wilford and Me
They say there are no coincidences in life so I guess I shouldn't be shocked that Griffin (my 13 year old autistic son) has formed a bond with Wilford Brimley, he of diabetes supplies fame. I've had diabetes for almost 15 years now. In reality, I don't have diabetes so much as diabetes has me. Recently, more often than not, diabetes has kicked my ass.
I read and write about autism every day. Though complications from my diabetes are slowly killing me, I rarely speak of it. Even when my wife injects me with insulin countless times a day or examines my feet, we don't discuss it. So I wanted to take advantage of the Dive Bar to say one thing to my diabetes.
Fuck you! I fucking hate you.
Okay. That was two things. So kill me. Oh wait, you already are. Fuck you again you piece of shit.
More than likely, Griffin and I will endure our respective ailments for the rest of our lives. We will require medical attention, medications, therapies, and other forms of intervention. We are hampered and limited by diabetes and autism. But, just like my devastating good looks and his overwhelming cuteness do not define us, although I may have diabetes and he has autism, it does not mean that all we are is a diabetic and his autistic son.