If it weren’t for modern medicine, I would be dead right now. When I think about it, my palms start to sweat because I realize diabetes isn’t something to mess around with. If I make even a slight mistake I would end up in the hospital, which isn’t fun. My dad has diabetes too and I hadn’t been acting normal for a while so I was planning on moving in with him, because my mom couldn’t figure out why I was acting so horribly. We found out the day we were planning on leaving.
My sister and i were fighting over who got so sit with my dad in his big comfy chair. “I want to sit in daddy’s big chair!” I yelled at my sister. “No it’s my turn!” she yelled back. Right at that moment my dad was checking his glucose. “I’ll tell you what girls,” he said. “, whoever can check their glucose, can sit with me in my chair.” We hesitated because as children, needles, even small ones, scare us. I ended up volunteering though, because my sister is deathly afraid of the ruthless things. The needle was as small as a pencil tip, yet even thinner. It was loaded in the poker, just waiting to spring out and pierce my flesh. My sister thought it was going to pop out, and devour her whole finger. I had never done it before, so I was a little freaked out too. It surprised me the way the strip sucked the blood up, it was kind of scary. I was anxious to see what my number was, but when it popped up all it said was HI. “What does that mean?” I asked my dad, confused. “Um…” he started saying, he seemed really worried. “That’s REALLY bad.” He said “We have to take you to the hospital, now.” I was confused because I felt fine; I didn’t understand why that was bad. I was ok with going to the hospital though because since we were planning on moving that day, all we had was a U-Haul truck. I thought it was funny that we drove that huge thing to the hospital. It reminded me of a fire truck driving to Dairy Queen. Anyways, when we got there it took a while for us to get back to an actual room. And I don’t remember the emergency room like it is now, I remember sitting around a corner on a soft chair and my dad talking to people. I didn’t quite comprehend what was going on with me. My dad seemed a little frazzled though. It made me scared to see him that way. I was nervous at what would happen to me, I didn’t feel sick or weird, so is didn’t know what was going on. I don’t remember much of when I was actually in the hospital because I was so sick. But I do remember being in a room outside of the pediatrics unit, because there were no rooms open. That made me feel kind of bad because there were so many sick children. But I felt kind of good, despite the fact I almost died, because I was “big”, I didn’t have to be in the kids’ area. I was young though and I didn’t realize that I was out there because there were too many kids in the actual pediatric unit. I remember the hospital was horrible. I could hear sick little babies crying in the rooms across from me, annoying constant beeping from various machines, bare white walls that smelled like the hospital. Plus, the food was putrid; it tasted like barf. That’s probably because I was so sick, so everything tasted gross. That’s why I lost so much weight, being sick. I weighed 50lbs that was less than my sister who is almost 2 years younger than me. I couldn’t sleep either because the nurses had to come in every hour to check my blood sugar, and all the IV’s were really uncomfortable. I like to sleep on my side with my hands under my head. But that’s impossible with all the IV’s in both my arms. I had to sleep like a board, for three whole nights I had to have one IV with saline solution because I was dehydrated, one with long-lasting insulin because it keeps my blood sugar stable when I’m not eating, and one with short lasting insulin to try to slowly get my over all blood sugar down again. If they gave me all the correction insulin at once it could be bad for my liver.
Being in the hospital even for one day is boring, all I wanted to do was sleep and that was hard, I couldn’t watch T.V because my eyes were burry from having ketoacidosis, and there was nothing left to do. My sister came to visit a lot, and so did some of my friends. They wanted to walk around the hospital all the time but just didn’t have enough energy. One day, they kept talking about big windows, they wanted to show me, but I was so tired I couldn’t even sit up for long. I felt like I was a log, not able to move, couldn’t play.
Over the course of 4 days, I slowly started getting better. I was looking forward to moving so I REALLY wanted to get better, so we could leave. I felt bad because I had postponed the move without even knowing it in the first place. I know we were all excited to leave, and I made us go later. But my dad kept saying it was ok because my health was more important. It was better that we found out now than getting really sick on the road. That made me feel a little better. On the 4th day, I was super tired from lack of sleep, earlier. But also I was excited to leave, finally! I was much better than before, even though I hadn’t felt bad in the first place. And I was ready to get out of that horrid place.
As I stepped into the bright morning sun on Jan 3 2008. Squinting since I hadn’t seen light in a while, all I wanted to do was lay in the seat of the U Haul, next to my dad, and sleep. The way to South Dakota, where we were moving, I kept thinking, what does this mean? My life is going to be different from now on. I need to be careful and cautious with everything now. All I ate was beef jerky and cashews the whole way there, which was a day or two, besides lunch and dinner. My dad was very adamant about checking my glucose to make sure I was still ok. It made me feel good that he cared so much about me, like that. Anyways, I was relieved I was out of the hospital and out of Washington. I knew my life had changed but I could handle it, I was as strong. Stronger than ever.
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