We all know there are certain origin truths: Babies come from storks, all of our best Christmas presents come from Santa Claus, and the yard full of candy my kids hunt for each Easter comes from an elusive little bunny. That’s fine. I accept all of those without reservation. What I can’t accept is not knowing where my type 1 diabetes came from. This is a question that has plagued me for over two decades, and obsessive-compulsive me just can’t let it go.
I was actually doing pretty well. I had been on the diabetes-origin wagon for nearly a week and hadn’t given a single thought to the matter. Then this morning, there I am reading on some diabetes news site when I stumble across an article on childhood infections leading to the development of type 1 diabetes. Arghhh!
I couldn’t turn away from the article, considering it could contain the answer to the mystery of my fate. I read on looking for answers, but instead, it just yielded more questions.
Yes, I know that type 1 diabetes is autoimmune and that there are genetics involved. My DNA likely contains a darned genetic marker (an HLA complex) on my chromosome number 6 that’s partially to blame. But having this genetic predisposition doesn’t guarantee diabetes. The key is the trigger, and this is where there is still so much mystery in medical science. So, what event in my life triggered my immune system to destroy my beta cells? I need to know.
The article that extracted me from my temporary respite cited a study that drew a fairly reasonable conclusion that respiratory infections at an early age were linked to islet cell autoimmunity in subjects with the HLA marker. Hmmm . . . could that be it? I did have a bad respiratory infection as a baby. The only reason I know about this is because I had a severe allergic reaction to the penicillin prescribed. I’m reminded of it every time I have to note it as the only drug I am allergic to on personal medical histories.
Thinking back, I had asthma and a lot of respiratory infections as a child. Or, maybe it was something viral like the mono I caught when I was 11. You know, mononucleosis, the “kissing disease.” I don’t know how I ended up contracting mono, but I promise you that I didn’t catch it from making out. At 11 years old, I couldn’t get a girl to look my direction if I yelled at her.
But I didn’t develop diabetes until I was 24. All of those things were way too far back to have been the trigger. That really only leaves one other possibility, and I’ve contemplated this one for a long long time—chicken pox.
No, I didn’t catch chicken pox as a child like most people. I wish I had. I was rather unfortunate to catch it as a young adult at 19, and it almost killed me. Chicken pox can lead to very serious complications in adults. I ended up in the hospital with a sky-high fever and a rare meningitis-like reaction that caused the lining around my brain to swell. This gave me violent headaches that were so bad it made my worst migraine look like a day at the spa.
Then 5 years later . . . type 1 diabetes.
Certain viruses are considered to be likely triggers. Then, there is often a gap of several years between initial activation of the autoimmune response to beta cells and the onset of clinical diabetes. It takes T cells (those that produce antibodies) several years to destroy enough beta cells to bring on the traditional symptoms of diabetes. Five years fits that pattern pretty well. I know that I’ll never know for sure, but that’s the only thing that makes sense to me.
Why, you might ask, do I care so much? Knowing exactly what triggered my immune system to attack isn’t going to bring back my islet cells. They’re gone. Doesn’t it seem rather pointless to anguish over something I had no control over?
Logically, that makes sense. But I have 5 kids.
Although I’ve taken everything diabetes could throw at me and made a good life for myself with low A1C results, I don’t want any of my children to have to devote so much of their lives to managing a chronic illness. Even though I am the only type 1 diabetic in my family as far back as we can trace, I can’t just look at myself as an anomaly and assume that my kids are safe.
It’s something that’s bothered me since my first son was born. How could I protect him from diabetes? When he was only 16 months old, he came down with chicken pox, and instead of worry, I felt relieved. No, I wasn’t trying to win worst parent of the year; I nearly died from chicken pox as an adult and I didn’t want him to ever be in that position or have something that severe be his type 1 trigger.
All of my children since then have had the chicken pox vaccine; however, now there are various theories floating around that some vaccines might be a potential type 1 trigger. There’s not enough evidence yet, but it can make a diabetic parent go crazy, questioning everything we do or don’t do.
No, I may never know exactly what triggered my body to go on a self-destruction rampage, but I’m never going to stop wondering and I’m never going to stop asking.
For now, I need to get to the store to pick out a gift. Some friends of ours are expecting a visit from the stork.
-Tad