When I was in high school, I thought nothing bad could ever happen to me. I remember actually telling my friends that I had noticed this trend in my life and that I thought it was weird. Nothing substantially horrible had ever happened to me…ever.
I wasn’t complaining, but I did notice its truth. I had never broken a bone. I had never been seriously ill or even stayed the night in the hospital. I was a beacon of health (I mean kind of ). I was never even cursed with having to get a cavity filled or having braces. It seemed like as soon as I acknowledged this obvious fact about myself and my life, that I had jinxed myself. Now, I don’t really believe it was me saying “Nothing bad has ever happened to me” that lead to me being diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, it is just something I laugh at now. Maybe it’s also something to consider that I never knocked on wood after I had said it…hmm…just kidding. But on a more serious note, I almost didn’t know how to react when I was told I would live the rest of my life as a diabetic. Had I done something wrong? Something to cause this rare disease? No, I hadn’t. It was just the luck of the draw, or lack there of. When I actually learned why this was happening to me, I found out that several of my family members also had type 1. It skipped my parents, and even though 1 in 20 diabetics have type 1, I was one.
I immediately started crying when I found out. I didn’t know how else to deal with the weight of this news. My entire life was about to change, and I knew it, I just didn’t know to what extent. Then, I gathered myself. I wiped my tears from my face and spent my first night ever in the hospital. Shortly thereafter I became an expert on my new disease. In short, my pancreas had failed me because it was no longer producing insulin (the hormone in the body that regulates the amount of sugar being carried to cells). So that meant I needed to rely on external insulin to do the job that my body was no longer doing.
As I was being poured hours and hours of information, all I cared about was eating. They didn’t let me eat for twelve hours, and I was starving, but when breakfast finally came the next morning, and they handed me my insulin pin, I did not hesitate sticking it into my side and scarfing down on my meal. When I was finally released from the hospital and I got to go home, I was extremely overwhelmed with how the rest of my life would be lived. I got irritated that I had to count every single carb that entered my body, including snacks and sugary drinks. But as the days turned into weeks and months, I adjusted. I grew so used to sticking myself with a needle over three times a day that I didn’t even have to think about it. And when I went back to my doctor, they told me my average blood sugar was doing great and that I was doing everything right. This made me feel awesome. I had my body and my health totally under control, but I was still dealing with all kinds of changes that this disease was causing my life.
I was seventeen when this all happened to me; I was halfway through my senior year getting ready for college with my pancreas decided to crap out. Everyone knew it happened because my friends (bless their hearts) had Snapchatted everyone a picture of me in my hospital gown. What better way to let everyone know the news? The school district also knew. And even though I was seventeen-years-old I still had to go to the nurse’s office every day before lunch so I could take my insulin. But I didn’t complain, I was almost out of there anyways. People kept coming up to me and telling me how sorry they were or asking what happened. I had to repeat the story over and over again. Everything was alright, I was going to be okay, this was just another aspect about my life. I explained the science behind what was happening to my body over and over again so people could understand. Most didn’t even know the difference between type 1 and type 2; heck, I didn’t even know before I got it, so I couldn’t blame them. But I also had to remind them to not feel sorry for me. The quality of my life had not changed. I refused to feel sorry for myself. I never once asked myself, “Why me?” I just dealt with it, because there was nothing else I could do, and being pitiful was not in my character.
But just sticking myself with needles and checking my blood sugar is not all that makes up diabetes. There’s a lot that goes into it that I am still learning every day. My health is a lot more fragile that it was before. My blood sugar can drop so easily if I don’t take care of it. It can also get really high if I get lazy and don’t check my levels. I’ve scared my friends on a couple occasions having to be taken to the hospital because my sugar got outrageously high and I didn’t know what to do. Keeping a healthy blood sugar is a combination of everything: eating healthy, exercise, and sometimes even how hot it is outside. It’s a different obstacle every day, but my health is worth it in the long run.
I like to think I make the people around me comfortable with the fact that I have diabetes and I have to deal with it. I often use the phrase, “I have to shoot up.” I know my friends knows what this means, I just hope strangers don’t think I’m a drug addict. I also joke about my diabetes so people know it’s not as bad as everyone thinks. I even have friends that like to remind me every day that I do, in fact have diabetes. So thank you for that. Two things that are beautiful that came out of this disease: I am incredibly more attentive to my health, and it reminds me that my friends will always be there to make sure I’m okay, because apparently my health is important to them too.
Diabetes did not ruin my life. Not even close. It has made me healthier and taught me how to be responsible about my body. Some days are more challenging that others, but I don’t give up easily. I don’t expect anyone to feel sorry for me, so why would I feel sorry for me? So anyone out there battling any type of disease they you can’t necessarily see, keep your head up. Your illness does not define you. You define you. Keep yourself healthy and don’t the world or you feel sorry for yourself. It’s not worth it. You can make it through anything.
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