We've waited long enough.

One voice can be ignored. Thousands become impossible to dismiss.

Hi, I'm Dave.

Forty years ago, as a young boy, I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

Just recently, I quietly reached my 40-year anniversary of living with this disease. Over those four decades, I've watched remarkable advances in diabetes care. I've gone from finger sticks and multiple daily injections to insulin pumps, continuous glucose monitors, and technology that would have seemed unimaginable when I was diagnosed.

But through all those years, one thing never seemed to change.

The promise that a cure was always "five to ten years away."

Like so many people living with Type 1 diabetes, I eventually stopped waiting for that promise and focused instead on living the fullest life I could. As a kid, I rarely told anyone I had diabetes. Looking back, it seems a little silly, but I never wanted to be treated differently than everyone else. I wanted to play sports, travel, have adventures, build a career, raise a family, and experience life without people seeing diabetes first.

I've been incredibly fortunate. My parents, my siblings, my wife, and my children have supported me every step of the way. But no matter how good life has been, diabetes has always been there—every single day. It never takes a vacation. It never gives you a day off. There has always been a quiet frustration knowing that this disease has shaped every day of my life since childhood.

When my own children were born, my greatest fear wasn't for myself anymore.

It was that one of them would someday hear the same words I heard as a little boy.

Thankfully, none of my children have been diagnosed.

Then something happened that I honestly wasn't expecting.

For the first time in a very long time, I started to feel genuine hope.

As I learned more about the incredible progress being made with donor-derived islet transplantation, stem cell-derived islet therapies, and the breakthroughs in immune therapies like tegoprubart that may finally make these treatments practical for more people, I found myself getting emotional. After hearing "maybe someday" for forty years, it suddenly felt like someday might actually be within reach.

Around the same time, I started hearing researchers, physicians, and advocacy organizations asking people with Type 1 diabetes to contact legislators and government leaders to support policies that could help these treatments become available to more patients.

If anyone should have been motivated to do that...

…it should have been me.

But I didn't.

Not because I didn't care.

Because I didn't know where to start.

Who should I contact? What should I say? Which legislation mattered? How could I explain something so technical? Like so many of us, I was busy, and I kept telling myself I'd do it tomorrow.

Then it hit me.

If I couldn't motivate myself to take action about something that affects me every single day, how could I expect anyone else to?

That's why I built Project Islet Freedom.

Not to tell people what to think.

Not to tell anyone who to vote for.

Simply to remove the barriers that keep caring people from speaking up.

This tool helps you find the right people to contact, turns your own story into a respectful, personalized message, references the relevant legislation and issues, and makes it as easy as possible to let your voice be heard.

Because one message probably won't change anything.

But thousands of personal stories just might.

This isn't only about people living with Type 1 diabetes.

It's about parents.

Spouses.

Children.

Friends.

Grandparents.

Neighbors.

Anyone who has watched someone they love carry this burden every single day.

If you're here because diabetes has touched your life in any way, I hope you'll take a few minutes to share your story.

Every story is different.

Every voice matters.

And if enough of us speak together, maybe—just maybe—we can help remove the barriers standing between incredible scientific progress and the people waiting for it.

I've never created anything like this before, and I'll admit I'm a little nervous putting it out into the world.

But I believe this moment matters.

I believe this community matters.

And I believe ordinary people, sharing their own stories, can help create extraordinary change.

Thank you for being here.

I truly hope you'll join us.