This is an excerpt from my blog. I decided to share it here so that you would know a little piece of my diabetes story. Perhaps knowing what I went through will help you know where I am coming from. Perhaps it can help someone not make mistakes I have made. I don't expect those of you who are adults to be making the sort of teenage mistakes I made, but perhaps seeing the consequences of my mistakes will help you avoid your mistakes.
I pick this up talking about my first serious boyfriend. He is the "him" to which I refer.
I often ate things when I was with him that I shouldn't. That is when I really started having problems. I would eat things I shouldn't. Then my blood sugar would be extremely high. I would be so thirsty and feel so ill going to class. I could hardly stand how dry my mouth felt during class. To be able to bear the dryness I would suck on a lollipop during class! Talk about
adding fuel to the fire. Then I would rush to the bathroom between classes to pee. I started carrying a one liter bottle of diet coke with me at all times. I could drink it in no time. I was always exhausted. I couldn't stay awake. I would fall asleep any chance I got. And.........everyone thought I was faking. They thought I wanted out of class. I missed so much class that I was totally lost in all my classes. I felt stupid when I did go to class. Every day I hated myself more. Then came the day, January 11, 1986, when it all became almost too much for my body to bear. I felt pretty ill. I was vomiting violently, projectile vomiting. I just kept getting sicker and sicker. My dad does not handle sickness well and he was angry. I knew he loved me but the more I saw his anger the more I just wished the diabetes and this sick feeling would take me. It almost did. After much vomiting my mother decided to take me to the hospital. She went to get the car. I tried to walk out to the car but couldn't make it. I laid down on the floor in the hallway. That made my dad mad. I cried for awhile as I rode to the hospital. I don't remember how I got in the car. Then I just felt too sick to cry. My mom took me to Uniontown Hospital. Back then the emergency room had two areas. One was a hallway with a bunch of small exam rooms. That is where they took the minor emergencies. Then there was the other room. It was one big room with several beds, separated by curtains. That was where the major emergencies went. I was taken to the big room. By this time I was not only vomiting almost constantly, but I was struggling to breathe. I was later told that my breath could be felt six feet away. I remember a nurse coming in and telling me to stop breathing like that. It was the only way I could breathe. I had no contol over it. I felt physically and emotionally like crap. I don't remember a lot. Just a lot of blood tests and more vomiting. I must have had an IV but I don't remember. Then a nurse came in (a different one from the one that told me to stop breathing like that) and asked me if I was afraid to fly. I told her that I wasn't. So they prepared me for the arrival of the helicopter. I was going to Pittsburgh and I was going in a hurry. The helicopter ride was OK, except for having to pee halfway there. There is no place to pee in a helicopter. I was rushed into Children's Hospital. There things really started moving. I was hooked up to everything. I had IV's in both arms and my leg. I was put on a monster of a machine. It was an insulin pump and it was the size of a typewriter. I am convinced that crude insulin pump saved my life. I was put on oxygen, which I hated. I kept pulling it off my face. (even in my sleep) I wanted a drink so desperately but they wouldn't give it to me. When someone wiped my face with a washcloth I grabbed it and sucked it. I didn't get my face wiped anymore. My heart rate while lying perfectly still was 180 beats a minute. Over the next 8 hours I lost fourteen pounds. My parents were told that my body was doing the equivelant of running uphill for days without a rest. My dad and brother met me in Pittsburgh. I asked to see my brother when he got there. I told him I was not going to die. I really was pretty close to it. My parents sat by my side. My brother waited outside the room. I was in a room meant for 3 patients. I was in it alone because they needed that much room to care for me. At one point I remember telling my mother that my heart rate would go down but I was tired and needed to sleep. When I awoke she was sitting there. I asked her if my heart rate had gone down at all. She said that it hadn't. I told her to look again. With every bit of me I willed my heart to slow down. My heart slowed down. While I had been asleep I dreamed (?) I went to the edge of heaven. I couldn't go in. It wasn't time. Then I woke up. I told my mother that I was not going to die. Then I began to heal. By the next day I was walking around the halls and acting like a teenager. But in the next few years, I would continue to rebel...
**edit** Previous to this incident I was extremely depressed to the poing of being suicidal. I did not care what happened to me. I would eat anything I wanted. I did not test. I even sometimes gave myself massive doses of insulin. Those massive doses were not based on any type of blood sugar reading. I just simply did it. This is why I am thankful that I am still here and as healthy as I am now.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Shouldn't I be invincible by now?
Post Edited (AMM) : 5/9/2007 2:43:47 PM (GMT-6)