Senior year, fall semester for Sam, my oldest son. He is a serious student applying to selective colleges, and he is anxiously awaiting the decisions he will hear within the next few days. The college process started over a year ago and accelerated to maximum intensity by the end of October. I had read the books, watched friends, family and even patients go through it, but it’s a grueling and stressful time no matter how well you prepare, no matter how much you try to convince yourself to stay level-headed. As much as this is HIS preparation for HIS future, it is easy to see how it becomes a family group project.

As a mother of a child with chronic health conditions, I have my own fears. Of course, I have opinions about proximity (preferably within a 5-hour drive), size and style of school.  By end of junior year, the high school transcript and most testing is done, which leaves the summer and fall for students to write the essays. This was the most emotional part for me. It made sense that for his main (common app) essay, he would write about having diabetes. Not in a “pity me” way, of course, but how his many health challenges have helped him develop the fortitude to excel. He brainstormed and worked with his counselors to draft the essay. I was irritated that he was strongly advised to downplay the difficulties of living with diabetes, instead of just showing how it empowered him. We deferred to the recommendations of his experienced advisors, but I felt they weren’t getting the complete story. Forgetting the inherent physical dangers and symptoms of T1D, just the time and effort it takes is enormous, much more than his most time-consuming extra-curricular commitments. Micro-managing whatever he eats with the appropriate insulin dosage, and treating erratic blood sugars influenced by everything under the sun: weather, activity level, asthma medication, insulin pump site atrophy. Or the many nights when his blood sugar is too high for him to focus on studying, losing crucial hours (8-11pm). Of course, it is inappropriate and even detrimental to include or even allude to this, and yet it is all true.

“Everybody has something, trust me they have HEARD IT ALL before.” Many students have had more challenges. There are cancer survivors and children who have been destitute and homeless, and worse. I get it. Nevertheless, I was frustrated, even angry.   Why? Sam had an awful lot on his plate, and while this alone shouldn’t assure admission to a certain college, his ability to excel in school and contribute to his community is impressive.   Not even a sentence or two to just to describe how bad it can be, just so the admissions officers understand?  I even had a friend tell me “You’re lucky your kids have diabetes, they will have something to write about on college applications.” WHAT??!!

I called my friend Rebecca, an internist who knows my kids well and understands T1D.  She listened to me rant and replied softly “but look at how Sam has grown, his strength and determination.”

“I know, but that’s intangible.”

“I know, Deb. It will always be intangible, and it will always suck.”

She was right. Regardless of how the admissions committee received his essays, no one could ever take away his grit.

And that had to be enough for me. I had to put aside my bitterness about his health challenges, the days, nights and years I have spent worrying and managing his health and ensuring he had ample food which was safe for him to eat, and enough unexpired epi-pens, inhalers, and insulin. Clearly, my emotions were strongly tied to this known fact of letting go: within the year he would be taking responsibility for this. The reality is overwhelming.

So, applications are in, and we are in this limbo period of waiting, during which I have been reflecting on it all and supporting Sam while he braces himself for the decisions to arrive in his inbox. Most importantly, I think he will be all right, despite my inner angst. He is practical, he recognizes life is unfair, he is not unaccustomed to hearing bad news.  His yearbook quote by Joe Namath (he is an avid Jets fan)  reads “How you recover from what life’s throwing at you is what matters.”

That’s a great mantra or a prompt for another essay…We’ll know soon enough