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​From Diagnosis to Miracle: My 37-Year Journey with Type 1 Diabetes
By Susanne Atkins

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On October 23, 1987, at just 16 years old, my life changed forever. I was diagnosed with juvenile (type 1) diabetes and immediately admitted to the ICU, where I spent a week stabilizing my blood sugar levels and beginning an education on a disease that would come to define every moment of my life—for the next 37 years.

 

The early days were terrifying. I was told I’d never eat pizza again and would be on a regimented diet for the rest of my life. At 16, those words were devastating. My daily routine included mixing long-acting and fast-acting insulin in the morning, followed by fast-acting insulin before dinner. Every meal, every snack, every moment of my day had to revolve around carbohydrate counts and carefully timed insulin injections.

 

What made my case particularly difficult was my high sensitivity to insulin. My endocrinologist warned me early on that I was prone to dangerous low blood sugars. And he was right. Over the years, I experienced countless severe lows, often unpredictable, always terrifying. One moment that will stay with me forever was when I passed out on the kitchen floor while home alone with my daughter, who was not yet two years old. I came to, lying cold on the tile, with her screaming over me. Somehow, I crawled to the phone and called 911. That was just one of many emergency situations. Paramedics became a familiar presence in our home, at my in-laws’, even on vacations.

But everything changed in 2023.

 

Scrolling through Facebook, I stumbled upon a post in a diabetes support group that asked, “Would you ever be interested in being part of a study?” I had never joined a support group before, let alone considered being part of research. On a whim, I filled out a questionnaire. A few months later, I was contacted by the University of Chicago. What followed was a series of in-depth questionnaires, interviews, and finally, a trip with my husband to Chicago in October 2023 for rigorous testing and consultation.

 

Then came October 9, 2024—a day I’ll never forget. I received a islet cell transplant as part of a groundbreaking study.

 

By November 18, I stopped taking fast-acting insulin. I only needed two quick-acting doses after that—once after a pizza, once after a baked potato. And then, on March 20, 2025, I took my last dose of long-acting insulin.

I haven’t taken insulin since.

For the first time in 37 years, I am living without daily injections, without constant fear, without the endless mental math of diabetes management. I can eat what I want, when I want. I can sleep through the night. I can exercise and drive without fearing a sudden low.

 

My life—and the lives of my family—has been transformed. My husband and daughter have always had my Dexcom app on their phones, monitoring my levels in real time. They no longer check it constantly or live in fear of a text saying I need help. The weight lifted off all of us is indescribable.

 

My endocrinologist—the same one who first saw me as a scared teenager—was with me every step of this journey. He recently retired, but we’ve remained close. We had lunch not long ago, and when he saw me, healthy and insulin-free, he was overcome with emotion. We shared a bottle of champagne and dessert to celebrate this miracle together.

 

If you had told 16-year-old me that I would one day live an insulin-free life, I wouldn’t have believed it. But today, I’m living that reality. I am beyond grateful—for the researchers, the doctors, the scientists, the study, and the endless support of my family.

There is a new world on the other side of this disease, and I’m so thankful and blessed I get to live in it.

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