As a child I watched how my father’s family coped with diabetes. My grandmother’s brothers and sisters all had it. The moment “los t í os” went into the hospital and started losing a foot or a leg, it signaled the last fight against the disease. My grandmother never had it, neither did my dad. My younger sister discovered her legacy at an early age – Diabetes, Type 2. She kept it from our parents for a long time, trying not to worry them. Then my mother had it. My youngest sister and both my brothers followed. It was everywhere around me. They are all savvy as to the course it takes. They share information. They make jokes when they dig into a taco or fork into a dessert. It seemed to skip me. It made sense. I resemble my dad and paternal grandmother. Maybe I was the lucky one? My internist gives me meds for cholesterol and blood pressure. She recommends a low-dose daily aspirin to keep strokes and heart attacks at bay. I take these meds be