Last August, I found myself in a hospital bed with a blood sugar of 550. Within five minutes of the doctor’s visit to my room, I was told I had Type 1 diabetes and that my first insulin infusion would begin when the nurse arrived.

I was not told, “Here are your options” or “Let’s explore alternatives.” I was told, “You need insulin to survive.”

Never again would my body function without that liquid in a small glass vial.

At the time, I was living at home in Boulder, Colorado. The first time I picked up my insulin from the pharmacy, the total rang up to $0 on account of my health insurance. I moved to Utah for school two weeks later with my 100%-covered insulin in the cooler in the back of my car.

A few weeks later, I went to the pharmacy in Salt Lake City. I looked down to see $100 on

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