Sweet Sixteen

At just exactly about the time this will be published, 16 years ago I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.  In many ways, I don't know where to start, or what to say.  Sometimes, in some ways, it still seems surreal.  Most of the time, I can gleefully imagine what my life might be like if I was cured, but diabetes is so currently woven so tightly in with my life it is just part of me.

Because of how sick I was when I was diagnosed, the memories surrounding that time are fuzzy or just plain missing.  Which is very unusual for me.  It is not that these are faded memories, I was so sick, even at the time I couldn't remember what had just occurred.  There are two moments that I very clearly remember making conscious decisions that really have affected how I have lived my life since them.  In some ways they are related to diabetes, but in others they are entirely independent and not really related.  If my diabetes were to be cured tomorrow, both of these decisions would still have a drastic affect on my life.

The first was on the drive to the hospital.  I clearly remember looking out the window and pondering what was happening.  I thought I had 2 options with dealing with my diagnosis.  The first was to be a huge pain and let everyone know how unhappy I was about it, be as big of a pain as I could, and try to avoid to do anything related to diabetes.  The second was I could accept that I had diabetes.  I didn't have to be happy about it, but I didn't have to make everyone around me as miserable as possible as well.  I could learn all I could, and live the best way I knew how with the knowledge I had, trying to minimize the impact it had on me and everyone around me.  I thought about the first option so more.  While it sounded good to let everyone else know how miserable I was about it, I figured it would make me more miserable-- not less.  Making others miserable would not really make me feel better.  I would most likely miss out on a number of things I enjoy because I would be too unhappy to participate/enjoy them or my parents would let me go if I didn't have the knowledge to take care of myself.  On the other hand, option 2 sounded like a lot of work.  I really was not happy about the situation in general.  Within a few minutes, I decided that option 2 was the path I was going to take, no matter how hard it would be at times.  For the most part, I've stuck with this decision.  Don't get me wrong, I whine about diabetes, sometimes more than others.  But I don't try to make others miserable about it, and I try to be as educated as I can.

The second decision came my way by the life of a 5 month old baby boy.  He and I were the only two "long term" patients on the pediatric floor of this hospital.  Other kids would be in for a night, but that was about it.  I was there for 6 days.  I have no idea how long the baby was there for, he was there before I was admitted, and he was there after I went home.  After my first 24 hours where I was seriously ill, I was bored.  Really bored.  Being the oldest of 5, and always in the position of caring for others, I naturally started playing with him if for no other reason to kill the time.  He didn't cry, he didn't eat, he didn't do much of anything.  No one came to visit him.  (I had my first visitor less than an hour after I was admitted...)  At first I just "flirted" with him, then I asked to hold him, then I asked to try to feed him the bottle that he was refusing from everyone.  With some discussion between the nurses and residents, they decided that they probably should not let me try to feed him, but on the other hand he had been refusing to eat and unless someone could get him to eat he was going to have to be tube fed.  Seeing he was responding to me by this point but no one else, I was given the bottle.  And he ate.  The next time it was bottle time, he once again refused from the nurse but immediately took it from me.  The older nurse looked at the young resident and said "See, I told you what is wrong with him is he is dying from lack of love."  I remembered thinking, "THAT is the bottom of the barrel.  To be literally dying from lack of love.  I know I will never be that low.  There will always be someone worse off than me no matter what happens."  And that idea has stayed with me.  No matter how rough things are for me, in the back of my head, I think of that baby.  I think of how old he is now.  And I say a prayer for him.  A prayer for others, particularly babies and the elderly, who feel so unloved they are literally dying.  I say a prayer of thanksgiving that I have so many that love me and that I love.  And no matter what, at that point my problems seem just a little smaller, and a little more manageable.

So I've done it.  16 year of me and diabetes.  Time to go get a milkshake (my yearly celebration, someone made the mistake of telling me that I would never be able to have a milkshake again, so I've made it a point for having one every year to mark the day... and I've got quite talented at bolusing the right amount so it doesn't take my glucose levels all over the place).