For the first time I left my insulin and syringe on my brother’s dining room table. I had just finished the Passover seder meal and expected to go back into the dining room for dessert, but dessert happened spontaneously in the kitchen. Engrossed in conversation, and feasting on honey cake and chocolate covered strawberries, my insulin and syringe were left to themselves on the dining room table unnoticed. I didn’t even realize it until I returned home hours later. This little “accident” was to provide...

When I was twelve, a friend of our mother’s came to pick my sister and me up from school during lunch.  She explained that Jonathan, our 18-month-old brother, was in the hospital, and that he would be fine, and that our parents would explain everything when we saw them after dinner that night.  We spent several nervous hours doing fractions and watching Star Trek: The Next Generation with their family, until our parents finally arrived. “Jonathan has diabetes,” my mother explained.  “His body can’t process sugar.  He’s...