My Journey with Type 2 Diabetes:
From Silence to Self-Advocacy
Dr. José M. Zuniga, President/CEO, Fast-Track Health
A decade ago, a routine visit to my primary care doctor should have changed my life. My labs had come back showing pre-diabetes. The doctor relayed the result plainly and without explanation. There was no counseling, no referral, no conversation about nutrition, activity, or the possibility of prevention. I was left with a vague warning and a silent expectation to “do something” without guidance on “what” that something should be.
Like many people, I carried on. I was busy, overworked, and told myself that “borderline” meant I had time. What I did not realize then was how critical that moment was – how early, compassionate communication from a clinician could have made all the difference. Then came the COVID-19 pandemic, which upended routines and reinforced habits that were anything but protective — more sedentary days, more comfort food, more stress, and far less preventive care. For many of us, the pandemic quietly accelerated what should never have been inevitable.
Fast forward to February 2022. I sat across from my new primary care doctor who, after reviewing my labs, delivered the news bluntly: “If you don’t change your life, diabetes will kill you.” There were no resources offered, no discussion of nutrition, no counseling about the complexities of type 2 diabetes. His stark pronouncement provoked a lingering sense of failure in my mind. For someone with less health literacy and fewer resources, that moment could have been devastating, but it became a turning point for me.
I left that appointment frightened but determined. I turned to what I could control: my diet. I made radical dietary changes – eliminating refined sugars, reducing carbohydrates, increasing fiber and lean proteins – and began taking metformin, the first-line medication for type 2 diabetes. Over the course of several months, my glucose levels improved, and by late 2022, I had achieved what most would call “control.” But it was not optimal. My A1C remained higher than my doctor and I wanted, and despite all my effort, my numbers plateaued.
My doctor eventually added empagliflozin in 2023, which helped further. From 2023 to 2024 my glucose stabilized, my weight decreased modestly, and my energy levels improved. Yet, something was still missing. I was doing everything “right,” and still struggling to reach what felt like a sustainable equilibrium. It was as if my body and mind were cooperating just enough to avoid crisis but not yet aligned toward true wellness. I began to realize that managing diabetes was not just about numbers or medication; it was about rebalancing an entire way of living.
Then, in 2025, I began GLP-1 therapy with tirzepatide – a medication class that has rightly generated global attention. Within months, I saw changes that felt nothing short of miraculous. My cardiometabolic profile – blood glucose, cholesterol, triglycerides, blood pressure, and weight – all improved dramatically. My labs told one story and my day-to-day wellbeing told another: steadier energy, clearer thinking, better sleep, and less anxiety about food. For the first time since my diagnosis, I felt not just in control of my diabetes, but in harmony with my body.
Let me be clear: I am not a cheerleader for any medication class. There is no one-size-fits-all solution, and GLP-1 agents are not a magic bullet. But they are proof of what can happen when innovation meets access – and when patients are given real options. What I want to emphasize instead is that I reached this point largely on my own initiative, not because the health system guided me there. And that is a public health failure that reflects how deeply we undervalue prevention, patient education, and continuity of care for non-communicable diseases. Too often, people with pre-diabetes or type 2 diabetes are told to “eat better” or “lose weight” without ever being shown how, supported in doing so, or encouraged to understand the biology of the disease. That failure of communication is systemic. It is not only a missed opportunity for prevention and early control; it can be a form of neglect.
Type 2 diabetes carries enormous stigma. In many cultures, it is framed as a disease of personal failure – too much indulgence, too little willpower. This stigma compounds shame and silence. It also deters people from seeking help early, or from being honest about their struggles when they do. I have heard friends whisper about their diagnosis as if it were a moral flaw. I have seen patients avoid care because they do not want to be judged. That is why patient activation, or the process of empowering people to engage meaningfully with their own care, is so essential. It starts with empathy and education. Patients need to understand not just the “what” of diabetes, but the “why” and “how” – why their body is reacting the way it is, how lifestyle and medication can work together, and how to sustain motivation over the long term. Clinicians, meanwhile, must do a better job of initiating that dialogue early, especially at the pre-diabetes stage.
Looking back, I often wonder how different my journey might have been if that pre-diabetes diagnosis a decade ago had included a conversation about avoiding a type 2 diabetes diagnosis rather than just communicating a lab value without providing much context. Still, I am beyond grateful for where I am today. Living with diabetes is not just about glucose numbers; it is about knowledge, persistence, and reclaiming agency over your health. So, this World Diabetes Day, my message is simple:
Diabetes management should never begin with fear and end with medication. It should begin with compassion, education, and partnership. Every person deserves to be equipped and not blamed when facing a diagnosis that affects millions but is still too often shrouded in silence. For me, diabetes is no longer a death sentence; it is a dialogue. And my hope is that, someday soon, every patient will have the same chance to rewrite their story.