Diabetes: My Survival Story

Chapter 2: Diagnosed

May 21st, 2004, I was 5 at the time and the details I explain to you now is what I remember from being in my hospital bed recovering from being diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.

We went to Tennessee to celebrate my sisters 1st birthday with my parents and grandparents. I don't remember the trip to and during, but the way back was hell.

I began drinking a lot of water and having to go to the bathroom every time we saw one. Then about two hours after leaving the house we rented I was throwing up and got really sick. So got a hotel room and I stayed up all night with my head in the toilet. It really sucked.

My parents knew something was wrong so we went to the nearby doctors office. They brought us to a room, and my mom explained my symptoms. The doctors thought it would be a good idea to do some blood work to make sure I didn't have this other type of disease, not diabetes.

When they came back with the results they told us the best option would be to go the emergency room. I didn't know why I was going, but I remember seeing my mom crying so I knew it was bad.

When we got there my mom and my sister went back to the hotel, and left me and my dad there.

They put me in a bed, and my dad handed the doctor the papers from my blood work. They told us to wait and they will help us soon.

For my friends who ask what does the 57 sticker on the back of my phone mean? It means I had to wait 57 minutes in the emergency room before anything else happened. 57 is the number I use to remember what happened when I was in the hospital. And for some reason I occasionally see 57 continually come up again somehow.

In that time I would get up every 5 minutes to ask the doctor for some water to then go to the bathroom 3 seconds later.

We were alone except for this one girl across from me. Her mom was with her, and she looked about my age. And they were playing Connect 4. They played a few rounds, but when they were done I got up and took the game. So me and my dad played till 4 doctors came to my bed and told me I had to put it away.

They had a tray and a stand with a bag of some sort of liquid. On the tray was a needle with a tube that connected to the bag on the stand. My dad told me it was gonna hurt a little, but it was for my own good.

The liquid in the bag was insulin because my number had risen all the way up into the 700 which is really really bad. Any higher and I could have died.

They put the needle in my right hand, I still have a scar at where the hole was. When they did put it in, if I knew any swear words at the time I would have been singing like a cannery. It hurt soooooo bad I was screaming and crying all night.