My Diagnosis and Response to Juvenile Diabetes Mellitus
As if life weren't hard enough for a 15 year old living in a volatile inner-city community with a single-mother and brother, I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes on Friday, May 1, 2009. At the time, I certainly didn't know anyone in the family who had this illness because my mom and dad are two of the fittest people I know.
This is how it all happened. Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a wild ride from here on in! It's kinda long but I promise you it won't be boring.
On the night of Tuesday, April 28, 2009, I literally had just 2hrs of sleep even though I went to bed from 9:30p.m. And this 2hrs of sleep was not consecutive, it was spliced into eight 15 minutes periods due to the fact that I had to get up eight times to urinate. The urine had a yellowish-orange color and when it splashed on my hand, my fingers stuck together like glue. The next day I didn't go to school because I had a very bad feeling on the inside that I couldn't explain. I was just very weak and hungry. Still hungry, even though I ate more than three pounds of rice for lunch, literally. My mom asked me if I threw away her food but I told her that I ate it and I was still hungry. She dismissed me, of course. In addition, I kept drinking water and still I was thirsty. By the end of that day, I drank more than three gallons of water and urinated more than 50 times. interestingly, I couldn't make it to the bathroom on one occasion, so I peed on the wall at the back of the house, 20 minutes later the wall was stained black. By sunset, my mom was worried because regardless of my gourmand eating habits, I was quickly losing weight. In less than 3 days, I fell from 125lbs to 105 lbs.
The very next day my mom took me to the doctor; this is where things really got heavy. He pricked my finger and tested my glucose level. Obviously he was used to seeing a numeric value for the result but the machine only said "Very High," this meant my reading was off the Richter Scale! He cleared his throat as he thought about how he would break the news. I was sitting in a chair in front of the doctor's desk while my mom hovered over me like an expectant eagle. When the doctor said I was diabetic, silence fell upon the room and silence fell upon Heaven for the space of about 5 seconds. Though my mom and I have birthdays two days apart, we respond totally different to situations.
My Mom's Response
A few seconds later, my mother fainted to the ground unconscious and it took over five minutes to bring her back to reality, because she is a drama queen and needs to let everyone know the magnitude of the impact. She then pulled her phone from her bag and called Matthew, Mark, Luke and John to have them know that her 15 year old son is diabetic and she just fainted and she's about to faint again.
My Response
After the doctor said I was diabetic, I froze. This is always my response when situations become too heavy for me to handle. My eyes are still open but my face has no expression. I could see my mom fall to the floor and I could see the doctor turning her onto her back but my body was useless to me, I couldn't move because I fell into the back of my mind and I conversed with God. I can remember that God and I had a rather strong discourse at that time. I asked, "Why is this happening to me? This is unfair and you need to fix it, please. What am I supposed to do now because I am not leaving this place until you give me the solution?" And then God answered me, just as He always does.
After my mom was resurrected, she delivered God's answer to my questions, "My child, God will not give you anything that you can't bear. If He allowed this to happen to you, it must mean that He knows you're strong enough to overcome it and He will provide a way out for you." She said all this before proceeding to call Matthew, Mark and the other Saints.
When I look back at this, it was a solemn situation but I had much fun because I went through it with my mom. Due to how she was behaving, you'd believe that she was the one diagnosed with sugar because she was the one rolling on the floor and crying and telling the doctor that his test was incorrect. Anyhow, the doctor gave me a referral to the Spanish Town hospital and asked that I carried clothes and everything else I would need because they would be admitting me. On the way home, my mom couldn't sit comfortably in the taxi; she must have turned ten times trying to find a comfortable place even though she'd been on the front passenger seat by herself!
When we got to the hospital, the real drama began. They placed me on drips to reduce the blood sugar but three male doctors had to hold me while another placed the needle under my skin. I was terrified of needles. Now, however, I've learnt that I'm not really afraid of needles, I'm just afraid of other people sticking me with needles. If I should stick myself, it's much more pleasant. I was admitted for 2 days and released on Sunday, May 3, 2009. My experience at the Spanish Town hospital was a good one, except for the part when a porter accidentally rolled a dead body from the bed next to mine, straight across the stretcher and onto the bed on which I had been sleeping. When I opened my eyes, I only saw the body wrapped in a white sheet with head on my pillow. Let me tell you something, at 1 a.m. when I opened my big mouth and screamed, the entire hospital and surrounding communities woke up. Nurses came running to see if the Archangel had descended on ward 6 with a shout and trumpets, and the world was about to end! My mother who was 25 minutes away, seemed to have heard my bellowing and was there within the next 5 minutes, clamoring at the door to find out which porter had rolled a dead body "pon her pickney!" This was round about 1:30 a.m. She was kindly escorted from the property by the security officer.
I can recall a very nice nurse who was sent to teach me how to measure the insulin using the syringe and where to stick myself because I would be doing it for the rest of my life, or at least that's what they think. She was dark and lovely, very pleasant. Her skin was so smooth I enjoyed looking at her face. A few months ago, I saw her again, because I work at the headquaters for the Spanish Town hospital, as she came to transact some business. Her skin still had its radiant glimmer. She didn't remember me because she'd only met me once for a few minutes but I remember her for the quality of care that she gave me- I never forget a benevolent character. As such, I did my best to ensure that she got through quickly. It just goes to show you that the good you do for people will always follow you.
In concluding, It's been 10 years since I was diagnosed and if you look at me now, you couldn't tell that I am diabetic because I have kept it under control due to my trust in God, consistent exercise and good eating habits. I recently found out that my mother's mother is also diabetic so doctors concluded that I have it in my genes but it skipped one generation, from my grandmother to me. This experience has brought me much closer to my mom because it showed me how much she cares for me. Even now, we still look back and laugh about my diagnosis ordeal like children would. To date, I haven't had the opportunity to cry or feel bad about my being diabetic because my mom did all the crying, fainting and rolling for me, and she always supports me in the best way she can. I hereby encourage you my readers to eat healthy, exercise and live life to the fullest because whatever situation you are going through, there is someone else out there going through much worse and they're still alive. And as God had said to me, you are going through this because God tried your heart and saw that you are well capable to overcome. Trust God and be blessed as I will see you in my next post.