Scary Diagnosis

I had not felt this way, prior to today. A week ago, I felt somewhat normal. I assumed it was fatigue, so there was no immediate concern.

Progressively, I felt worse with each passing day. There was nothing painful, but a slow and dreary death is the best way to describe this dreadful feeling.

The end of the summer was approaching, and it was nearly time to return to school for the fall semester. I do not recall the exact day, but I wake up early feeling like I did not just get 8 hours of sleep.

“I just need a day off” I say to myself. It must be fatigue. I was near the beginning of a 10 day stretch at work, but I was going to have a four-day weekend at the end of it. “I can make it,” I thought

I had felt similar before, and it went away, so I assumed the case would be the same, in this situation.

The first day goes by and I feel the same as I did waking up. I was not in any pain and was able to still complete my work out that evening.

However, I did find myself urinating more frequently than usual. I had no idea what caused this, but I regularly drink a lot of water. No cause for concern here. Not in my mind anyway.

Over the next few days, the fatigue I felt has lessened, but things still worsen considerably.

I notice my frequent restroom trips are being caused by an increased amount of fluid I have been taking in. I felt dehydrated. I begin to worry, but I do not feel any pain, so I want to make it to the end of my work week.

Since I began working here, I had not called in. I had perfect attendance and intended to keep it that way. “I am not sick so I can work” is what I told my concerned parents. They felt my condition was worse than I thought.

“Maybe they are right” I think, but again in my mind; I felt no pain, so there is no real problem. I did not realize how wrong I would be.

As my condition deteriorates, I near the end of long schedule. Practically I am dragging myself to work. At this point my energy is non-existent and I am barely able to focus, but determined to work my final day, which was the after today.

August 23, 2018, another day I will forever remember. It does not have the same impact as the day my brother passed away, but it was life-altering all the same.

My shift is ending, and my mother has been in constant contact with me. She has been urging me to go the Emergency Room and see what the problem is. I insisted I was fine all week, but I can feel something horribly wrong today.

It felt like, all the small ailments I previously felt, were all attacking me at once. I tried fighting for as long as I could, but my mother was determined to get answers. She just wanted me to feel like myself again.

As I arrive home from work, I am greeted by my mom who finally convinces me that I should go to the hospital. Hopefully it is nothing serious, but deep down, I felt that it was. We do not live far from Spectrum Hospital, so it does not take a lot of time to make it there.

Once we enter the Emergency Room, we are met by a friendly and concerned nurse’s aide. “Have you traveled out of the country in the last two weeks?” he asked. “No,” I replied. “I can’t afford to.”

He wanted samples of my urine and blood, as I told him what my symptoms were. “Do you have any history of Diabetes?” he questioned. I felt freezing cold before he asked it, but this sent such a cold shock that I visibly shook. “I have never had Diabetes before.” I responded.

Diabetes was not a foreign concept to me, but I was not fully familiar with it either. I do not recall knowing anyone who was Diabetic. The only thing I knew for certain was, insulin was received through a needle.

“Why would I be Diabetic?” I kept thinking. I eat healthy, work out regularly, I have managed to stay fit. Why is this happening to me?

A second nurse enters the room with the results of my blood test. “The glucose meter, just says HIGH,” she tells us. “Too high for a reading, so we want to keep you overnight.”

As we make our way to the fourth floor of the main hospital, I feel a feeling of defeat. How did I end up this unhealthy?

At the time, Diabetics to me, were people who had not properly taken care of their health, ate too much junk food or sugar. I had a lot to learn.

My first night in the hospital, was a weird night. It was already late, and after midnight. My mom tried to stay as long as she could, but I knew she was tired. So, she kissed my cheek, “goodnight. I will see you in the morning. I love you” she told me.

Nurses would check on me all night, but hospitals already make me uneasy. I was shivering cold and it was dark, making it difficult to get comfortable. My siblings and best friends tried to comfort me with texts and phone calls, but I still felt lonely.

As the sun rises the next morning, the doctor meets with me to discuss my diagnosis and the number level my glucose was. “We’re going to keep you another night,” the doctor says to me. “Did you know what your final numbers were?” she asked. The nurses had not told me. “No,” I respond. “720 was where your glucose was,” she replied. These numbers did not mean a lot to me, but I learned a normal glucose range is 70-120.

“How were you able to walk in here?” she asked. “You were close to or should have been in a Diabetic coma,” she asserted. “It is a good thing you showed up when you did.”

Once she leaves the room to let me fully awake, I realize I must call my boss to let him know I could not show up today. I relay the news to him, and he was so shocked, he did not know how to respond. I had never called in before and am still confused by how the process works currently.

As my day is started, my parents and grandmother all visit me separately as the doctors and nurses explain to us all what is going on. “You’re not supposed to be in here,” my grandmother says to me weeping, “you’re the strong one.” My dad tells me about his diabetic story I had no idea about.

After everyone has visited for the day, and my nurses let me rest while night approaches, I start to feel the lonely feeling again. I wonder to myself again, how did I end up with Diabetes?

It does not make any sense. My mind is racing with thoughts, shame of my health, and a sense of humiliation just overtakes me to the point that I burst into tears. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” “Why do I deserve this?” I kept asking myself.

Mentally I could not grasp the concept of my health being compromised. I did not eat candy or consume much junk food. It took me quite some time to mentally accept my diagnosis.

Eventually, I learned that my diagnosis is for Type 1 Diabetes, which is a completely different condition than Type 2 Diabetes. Type 1 is less about health and is more about genetics. I feel less ashamed, but still not understanding of how I came across Diabetes.

Diabetes is a learning experience every day. Everyone does not manage their condition the same. This chronic illness is a daily fight, where you can do everything right, and things can still go wrong.

Honestly, I do not remember my life without Diabetes anymore. I am more active than I was before I was diagnosed. My eating is better, I am in better moods.

Although it took me a while to mentally recover from my initial diagnosis, I am happier for knowing I caught this, before it could have ended significantly worse. Sometimes others know what is best for you.