Every story starts somewhere. Mine started on July 31st, 2004. Honestly, this is a very hard post for me to write. At the same time I think it is very important to include it here.
The summer before 7th grade I was like any other 12 year old. I spent the summer up north with my family. This year though, instead of being the happy kid who wouldnt get out of the water for anything, except food maybe, I had changed. I no longer wanted to go outside, I didn't feel like swimming, all I wanted to do was sit inside and eat (I was sooo hungry all the time!). I also had this crazy thirst that no matter what could not be quenched. The worst was that I had to go to the bathroom at least 5 times an hour (not joking). It was terrible.
The final straw for me was when I went to an American Idol concert in Grand Rapids with my mom. You'd think that would be super fun right? Not when you have to leave your seats literally every 10 minutes to go to the bathroom. On the drive back up north we stopped for me i'm sure every 30 miles. I told my mom on the car ride that I wanted to go to the doctors. I knew I was sick. I just couldn't take it anymore.
We went home and straight to the doctors. They immediately took a million blood tests. I'm sure that just looking at me could tell them what was going on. I had lost about 10 pounds in about a week or two. I was 12 and weighted about 96 pounds.
I went home from the doctors office and later that day my mom got a call that said I had tested positive for Type 1 Diabetes and that I needed to go straight to the hospital. I don't think I have ever cried as hard as when she told me. We held hands in the car the whole way to Hurley Children's Hospital. I wasn't even sure what I was crying for. I had no idea what Diabetes was. I had never heard of it before! All I knew was that something was wrong with me..
I don't remember much of what happened in the hospital. When your blood sugar is as high as mine was your memory is affected. I have one distinct memory of being very mad at the nurse that poked my finger to test my blood. It hurt so bad! Other than that I really don't remember anything. My numbers were in the 600s (normal blood sugar for a non-diabetic is from 80-120).
I learned a lot in the 3 days I spent in the hospital. I learned how to poke my finger and squeeze it so enough blood will come out for my glucose monitor to read. I learned how to give myself a shot in the stomach and how to fill the syringe with insulin (the medicine that I now can't live without). I learned all about what Type 1 Diabetes is but I never learned why I had it. There is no reason that I was diagnosed. I have no family history. My body just decided to attack itself for some reason that summer. The doctors suspect it was because of a virus that attacked my pancreas. I'll never know for sure though.
For a few years after that day in 2004 I was in denial. Why did this happen to me? What did I do wrong to have this happen? I didn't believe that it was real. It sucks but I spiraled into a pretty deep depression for a while after I was diagnosed. I felt like no one understood what I was going through. I couldn't take the stares and questions I got from people at school. I didn't want to be different from anyone else.
Fast forward to 9 years later and I can proudly say that I am no longer in denial. I have accepted the fact that I have Type 1 Diabetes and no longer feel like it is something to be embarrassed about. Don't get me wrong, I still have days where I want to curl up in bed all day and cry (just ask my boyfriend!). In the end it is so much better to push past those days and look at the positives!
If you read this whole post I congratulate you! It was a long one!
Stay Anchored,
Cait
