My Sister Has Diabetes: A fictional journal entry of a twelve-year-old boy

I’m sitting in the living room as my little sister (she’s 11) and mom are in the kitchen, listening to some loud, blond lady with glasses show my sister how to use a new “pump” for her diabetes. My sister thinks she’s sooo great because she has special needs. She always is putting insulin in her stomach after we eat and showing off.

All of my friends ask me about it and ask why I don’t have to put cool needles in my stomach. They say “Why don’t you have to do anything cool because of a disease? Your sister does.” I say, “Shut up! Anxiety and depression don’t require needles.” But nobody understands.

My sister gets all the attention because she’s so stupid. No one ever came over to the house to show me how to take my Prozac pills. Jeez. She’s such an attention hog. She’s so cool. She told me good job when I finally conquered Call of Duty 2 for the Wii. She knows things like carbohydrates and sucrose. She’s awesome. I hate that she gets all of the attention. I have a lot of good things that people should know about so I get attention, but my sister hogs it all like a hog in the family slopyard.

I can’t wait until this stupid, blond lady leaves our kitchen. I want to make peanut butter toast in there. She keeps talking to my sister and my mom like she knows everything. But there’s one thing she doesn’t know – that she doesn’t know everything.

My sister’s diabetes pump is so cool. It beeps like a video game or something. But I’m not jealous. I have a watch with the Froot Loops bird on it. That beeps too – when there’s batteries in it – and everyone likes that (or used to like it before my sister’s pump came along). I’m going to go put it on just to show her she’s not the only one with a cool beeping toy. CU L8R.