Twenty Eight.

It doesn't seem quite possible that it has been this long

Since my immune system and pancreas got it so wrong.

My beta cells keep dying so I wear this pump, you see

It looks so simple but isn't - the math is up to me.

Every day I count, I track, I dose, I worry, I guess

I wear the stuff; I eat the things; I try to do my best

But sometimes diabetes, it has its own agenda

Enigma wrapped inside a mystery, this contend(ah).

How do I bolus for stress? What's the ratio for grief?

The intangibles swarm invisible; flaunting their teeth.

Then again, when things go well and efforts don't seem fruitless

Pancreatic skills degrade; a diabetes hubris.

This means I must stay vigilant; my experience shows

"In range" is often just a rest stop between highs and lows.

This day won't look too flashy but here I'll commemorate

That today marks when my diabetes turns twenty-eight.