On May 13, 2009 you made your presence known to my family. You’d been sneaking about, lurking in silence and shadow inside my son’s body for … I don’t know how long …. doing your evil and trying to kill him. The day you made your brazen announcement was one of the worst days of my life, and of our family’s life.
I want you to leave my son alone. If you have to have a hostage, take me instead. Leave my son’s body and come snuggle into mine. I’ll do all of the finger pricks on myself every day for the rest of my life. I’ll do all of the injections on myself every day until you kill me. I’ll go to the endocrinologist every quarter, and to the eye doctor every year, waiting for them to tell me that the complications have begun. That I’m beginning to go blind. That my kidneys are beginning to fail and I will have to go on dialysis treatments. That the sore on my big toe from when I stubbed it is never going to heal and they have to cut it off.
If you have to pick on someone, then pick on me. ‘Cause I can take it. If you have to take someone, then take me.
Just leave my son alone.