Birthday Wishes

I do not know how I got Type I diabetes.  No one in my family has diabetes.  I am the middle child, and neither one of my siblings have it.  Now, I may have a great-great-great grandmother that had it, but otherwise, no one “gave” this to me.  Yes, it’s true that diabetes is oftentimes inherited, but that is not the case for me.  I was randomly selected to struggle with this for the rest of my life, longing for the day when I could be “normal.”

I tend to go through stages in my life where I wonder why this happened to me.  Why did my body attack itself?  Why did God choose to give this disease to me, and not to the mean girl in my 7^thgrade class that made fun of me every day?   What did I do, at the young age of 3 to deserve this?  Why does my life have to end early, hooked up to a dialysis machine?  Why?  It’s unfair. It’s cruel. 

My Sister and I

Every year on my birthday, when it was time to make a wish and blow out the candles, I would wish to no longer have diabetes.  Every.  Single. Year.  If anyone asked what I wished for, I would blush and refuse to say, trying to hide the fact that I’ve had the same wish for 10 years.  I would always think to myself, “isn’t it obvious?”   But no matter what, I continued wishing at every birthday, and I continued praying for a cure till I was about 14-15 years old.  It was at this time in my life when I finally realized that it was pointless to waste my wishes on this.  A cure is not going to happen in my lifetime, and that was obvious.  

During these times I would cry… a lot.  I’d get embarrassed easily when I had to get my meter out and check my blood sugar at school, with everyone staring at me.  It started to become an inconvenience.  I didn’t want to do this anymore.  I got mad at everyone that didn’t have diabetes, practically holding a grudge against them.  No one understood me, and my close family never would.  When I went out to eat, everyone would start chowing down, and I’d still be trying to figure how many carbs I was about to eat.  It was extremely frustrating.  I began to slack off on taking care of myself.  I quit checking my blood sugar, sometimes only checking it once a day- if that.  I wouldn’t figure for my meals until an hour or so after I ate, when my blood sugar had already risen to 300 or more.  My parents got angry.  They cried.  My mother threatened to take me to a therapist.  My father looked me with tears in his eyes, asking why I was doing this.  I was breaking my parents’ hearts.  I was killing myself, and they thought I was doing it on purpose.

The only thing that helped me through this period in my life was time.   Out of the hundred appointments at the diabetes care center, I still could not change my attitude and neglecting behaviors.   It took time.  There was nothing anyone could do, till I realized for myself that I needed to grow up.  Sometime after high school, I started to put my life in perspective.

As I have matured, I have finally come to the conclusion that things just happen.   It took me a long time to get here, but as the cliché says: bad things happen to good people.  I was chosen to deal with diabetes.  So, okay.  I can do this.  I have chosen to go through life with a smile on my face, and hope in my heart that one day there will be a cure.  Many diabetics walk through life with a chip on their shoulder, but I refuse to be one of those people.  I refuse to let diabetes stop me from living my life.  I will get married, I will have children, and I will be healthy.  I’ll live for my family, for Joe, and most importantly, for myself.  You see, maybe I was chosen to use my experiences to help others when I grew older.  Maybe this is all part of a big plan, a bigger picture that a young girl blowing out her candles on her Barbie birthday cake did not understand.

Jokes

I recently stumbled upon some boards on Pinterest that were exclusively for Type I Diabetes.  They weren’t all health related either, which was refreshing.  In fact, did you know there are actually type I memes?  I must say, they are hilarious to me, but my mother was not amused.  She did not find the humor in laughing about diabetes (for obvious reasons).  This got me thinking- obviously these memes and pins are only funny to me because I can relate.  I mean, hey, it is funny that I leave a trail of test strips where ever I go- haha. It was refreshing, because for once I felt like I was not alone, and that it was okay to laugh at diabetes jokes. 

Several years ago, I had this guy in my math class that would hold up his hands and make an “x” with his index fingers and say “don’t give me the diabeetus!” (using Wilford Brimley’s famous pronunciation), while leaning away from me.  He did this fairly often.  He obviously thought it was funny, picking on me in that way, but to be honest, it hurt my feelings.  It made me feel like even more of a freak than I already did.  As humiliating as this was though, I really tried to ignore it.  Sure, it was rude, and definitely hurtful, but I can usually handle these sort of degrading comments to a certain extent.  That is, before my emotions get the best of me.  Take this example, for instance:

During my junior year of high school I was on the color guard team in the marching band.   Like most high school bands out there, all us felt like a family (a very unique family).  With band competitions on the weekends, football games every Friday night, and long practices during both the days and nights, we all grew pretty close to one another.   One day sticks out more than others: it was the day I arrived to the band room only to find out that one of the trumpet players had been diagnosed with Type I Diabetes.  Hearing news like this is similar to hearing of a death.  It hit me hard.  He was so old compared to when I was diagnosed, that I could not believe it.  It upset me greatly, and I guess you could say I “mourned” all morning.  It wasn’t until I was standing in the lunch line that my emotions took a fast turn.  The conversation among the guys behind me caught my attention, and so I began to listen to what they were saying:

“You know he got that by drinking after [fellow diabetic friend].”

“It’s ‘cause he ate too much sugar!”

“He got what was coming to him!”

"Yeah, serves him right!"

You can imagine my reaction.  As this was years ago, I do not remember my exact words, but I made it very clear that individuals with diabetes are not contagious!  Furthermore, I informed these insensitive morons behind me that I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, and that no one deserves this.  They of course tried to backtrack, and reason with me about what they had said, and I just turned around, trying not to strangle them, or worse, cry.  They had insulted me, and hurt my feelings.  They were joking about a guy that will have to live with this disease for the rest of his life.  Completely unacceptable.

Diabetes is nothing to joke about.  Diabetes kills approximately 4.6 million people a year; break this down, and that is about 1 person every 8 seconds.  The complications alone are deadly, but say you catch pneumonia:  well, if you have diabetes you could die from that.  Blindness, kidney failure, pregnancy complications, poor circulation, nerve damage, early death; the list goes on and on. Currently I have microalbuminuria, which means that my kidneys are already starting to lose their effectiveness.  This is an early sign of kidney disease/failure.   You can see why I do not laugh at diabetes cracks, and I absolutely won’t tolerate insensitivity towards the disease. 

However, there is light at the end of this blog!  As I mentioned earlier, there are diabetes memes, Pinterest boards, and lots of acceptable humor that suits our unique situation.  I know that fellow Type I’s will appreciate a laugh.  These are the jokes that are only understood by us- a special community of people that share in the same experiences each and every day.  Besides, do you ever feel like Hansel and Gretel, because you leave a trail of test strips behind wherever you go?  Do you ever feel like a genius mathematician when you actually figure properly for pizza?  We can relate, and these are the things we can joke about.  Not about being freaks of nature.  I’ve started a new board on Pinterest that is purely for Type I Diabetes humor!  I encourage you to check it out!  =]  http://pinterest.com/jessupa2852/type-1-diabetes/

Morning Low

It’s every diabetic’s worst nightmare to wake up in the morning and feel detached from reality.  This is the best way I can describe what I feel like when I wake up with a low blood sugar, and sometimes it’s not even that low.  Imagine it:

I open my eyes slowly as the light is gently peeking through my curtains.  I turn over in bed, unaware that my body feels numb and it’s slightly vibrating.  I glance at the clock- 11:37 am.  It’s summer, so the time doesn’t really matter to me.  I slide myself over to the side of the bed and wait, my feet dangling.  Whew, my brain feels sloshy, I must have moved too quickly- “probably the Lisinopril kicking in from last night,” I thought, reassuring myself.  I decide to get up and head towards the bathroom, no big deal, my usual routine.   As my bare toes touch the cold hardwood floor beneath me, I quickly realize something is wrong.  My head feels funny.  Come to think of it, my whole perception of the room around me is distorted.

My eyes can’t seem to focus on anything.  My movements are jerky, yet in slow motion.  It’s like being in a movie that has slowed down to show an action scene, but in your head you know that time is still moving on like normal.  It feels as if I’m still asleep, or in an in-between stage of sleep and wakefulness, where I can’t quite get out of the fuzzy dream I am in.  Though my senses are obviously affected, my ears are picking up on everything, even if my own thoughts are deafening.  If anyone has ever passed out before, you know what I mean when I say this:  I can hear everything that is happening around me, but I can’t do anything.   My brain and my body are on two different wavelengths.  My legs are tingling, sort-of scratchy like, almost to the “pins and needles” stage.  At this point I take a step toward my door, hoping new scenery will wake me up and things will return to normal, this is when I notice I feel numb, and I am positive that my tongue is numb.  

Most of you are thinking right now, why on earth haven’t you checked your blood sugar?!  In this stage, I am not thinking “wow, my blood sugar must be 20, I should do something about it.”  Instead, I mainly feel frightened, yet slightly depressed.  Besides, most everybody is going on with their day, unaware that I am in a strange state of consciousness.  Of course all of the “normal” people out there do not have Diabetes, and will never have to be in this state.  This is a moment in the morning where I am afraid I will never wake up.  I will never get out of this nightmare of watching the world pass before me while I am standing here unable to manipulate my surroundings, or cause any sort of change in my own little universe.  I am trapped inside my own head.   What’s worse is that I am usually home alone when this happens, so there is no one to care for me, or realize I am not myself.  The responsibility is heavy on my shoulders, and I am scared I will stay like this forever.

To make a long story short, after wondering around my house for a bit, and clawing at my legs while popping glucose tablets like jelly beans, I eventually return to normal.  What’s weird is that sometimes my blood sugar will only be 60, or in the mid to upper 50s.  I am used to blood sugars being much lower, and so this tells me that my blood sugar was low all night long - affecting the functioning of my brain (my brain is starving, after all!).  Now, this has happened too many times to count, and the reasons for it happening are unknown.  Each time it occurs, I react differently.  I may try to pretend it isn’t happening, or that this dreamlike effect will “rub off.”  Other times I try to call Joe, and he helps me get through it.  One memorable time was when he left in the middle of biology class, and drove 30 minutes to come to my rescue! (That morning I experienced the extremely odd symptom of not being able to read).  In fact, I had trouble calling Joe in the first place because I couldn’t figure out how to work my phone.  

The moral of the story:  if this happens to you, you are not alone.  I was never warned that this might happen to me one day.  I think the first time it happened I was 17-18 years old, and it has happened multiple times now that I am in my 20s.  It’s scary, yes.  Eat some glucose tablets and call someone: a friend, a boyfriend, a loved one…anybody!  Contact someone that knows your situation and won’t start panicking.