"Go get my keys." "Find mea pen." "Answer the phone." "Loan me twobucks." "Where are my shoes?"

This is what mylife as a little sister is like. When my brothers aren't ordering mearound, they seem to forget I exist.

In spite of it all, they'restill my heros. They have diabetes, so they have to test their bloodfour times each day and take three shots a day, whether they are workingor playing, while never complaining. I think it's very courageous thatthey don't feel sorry for themselves. They don't let their friends treatthem differently just because they're diabetic. I don't think theyresent the disease, even though there is no cure. They always remindthemselves that there are people with worse problems.

Mybrothers don't use diabetes as an excuse to do less, but as a reason todo more with their lives. They excel in sports, academics and, moreimportantly, they go the extra mile for other people. They always seemto be joining a group or a cause to help others. I admire them not justbecause they don't complain, but because they don't seem to worry thatdiabetes can lead to blindness, loss of a limb, and even death.

Just as they don't like to think of themselves as diabetics, I knowthey wouldn't want to call themselves heroes - but they are.