There is a “1,000 Hands Playground” at Pleasant Ridge Park, off Ridge Road across from Nativity Church and School – so called because members of the community built it in 2000. The playground includes everything a kid could want, including a large two-level wooden structure with ramps and parapets as the centerpiece.

We lived less than a mile southwest of the park and, until we moved in 2001, spent a lot of time there – “we” being my daughter Elizabeth and I. She was 2, and then 3.

One of the features there had three slides. Elizabeth would climb up to the platform, hold out her arms as if she was flying, and I would swing her down to the bottom as she shouted “Super Elizabeth, to the rescue.”

It was a game, a chance to play a role, however briefly. That was in 2001. Twelve years later, “Super Elizabeth” was no longer a fantasy. On Aug. 6, 2013, the nickname took on real meaning. That was the day she was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. After 15 years and four months, her entire life changed.

There were signs. She had lost weight. Her face was thinner. She got tired frequently. One particular bruise on her arm would not heal. More significantly, perhaps, her personality changed. The girl who got a kick out of everything – no matter how many times she had experienced it – was lethargic. Her eyes were lifeless.

I would do discreet internet searches – 15-year-old girl with these symptoms – and the most common answer was, “It’s a 15-year-old girl” – meaning no alarm bells.

Her mom noticed similar changes, and one day saw a poster promoting diabetes awareness. After one really scary weekend, she decided to get her tested. Elizabeth’s blood sugar level was off the charts, more than three times normal. Essentially, as explained to us, her blood was acidifying.

Thus began the worst minutes, hours, days, weeks of our lives. Forty-eight foggy hours in the hospital as doctors and nurses explained what was happening and how she, and we, were going to have to live. Lessons on how to inject insulin; instructions for Glucagon hypodermic, which is the hormone used in emergencies if a diabetic’s blood sugar drops so low as to cause unconsciousness.

Over the last 11 years I have talked with a number of diabetics and their families. Some were diagnosed as infants or young children, when they really didn’t understand what was happening; others as adults, when they were mature enough to adapt. For a 15-year-old, two weeks from the start of your sophomore year of high school, the realization that you have to take an injection every time you eat for the rest of your life is crushing. I saw it, and hope you never do.

According to the Centers for Disease Control, in 2021, some 304,000 (or 35 per 10,000) people in the United States 20 or younger has been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. The cost of the disease, in medical bills, lost work and wages, was $413 billion. Fortunately, the federal government has worked to control the price of insulin for most diabetics.

Noteworthy – in 2021, Frederick Banting and Charles Best discovered insulin; three years later, Banting sold the patent for $1. He did not believe anyone should profit from his life-saving find.

If you believe everything happens for a reason, Elizabeth’s story is proof. Five weeks or so after her diagnosis, she decided to go to the Moeller-St. Xavier football game at Nippert Stadium. This was a re-entry to social life. She sat in the St. Xavier student section, we sat in the horseshoe end, with the blood sugar monitoring app on our phones, just in case.

That’s where she met Shane Weingartner. There was a connection. Shane had a friend who was Type 1. He learned how to administer glucagon. He became not only her best friend, but her lifeline.

“Super Elizabeth” is now Elizabeth Maloney Weingartner. They were married Oct. 26 at Benken’s Garden Center in Silverton – an appropriate location for celebrating new life. They own a home in Dillonvale, two streets from where I grew up. She is a preschool teacher in Cincinnati Public Schools.

November is Diabetes Awareness Month; Nov. 14 was World Diabetes Day. The disease cannot be cured – and may never be – but it can be managed. The advancements in treatment and technology, just since her diagnosis, are staggering. No more injections; she wears a pod that administers controlled doses of insulin, programmed by an app on her phone. There are no limits on what she can do, where she can go.

Eleven years ago, in between prayers in the hospital chapel and meetings with medical personnel, I was repeatedly typing in “cure for diabetes” on my phone. Pervasive sadness overwhelmed. Her courage and determination drove that away, and should be an inspiration for all families facing the same challenge.

Dick Maloney is a resident of Springfield Township and has set up a Facebook group, Type 1 Dads, for families to share their stories and questions. For more information on Type 1 Diabetes, visit www.breakthrought1d.org/socentralohio/.