You walk into your family doctor thinking this will be like any other appointment; they listen to your heartbeat, give your body a few tight squeezes, prescribe you to some liquid medicine, then give you stickers for being such a strong little girl.
The serious tone in his voice when he says, “We’re admitting her to the ER immediately; her glucose levels are over 800 and she’s in ketoacidosis, if we don’t act quick enough we could see her unconscious.”
Maybe the excessive hunger, thirst, weight loss, weakness, and headaches were all catching up – it’s even hard to realize all the symptoms happening simultaneously. They overwhelm you.
Your little 5-year-old heart racing faster than the car to the hospital – what do these big words mean? What’s happening to me?
White walls. Bright lights. A remote control bed. A strange metal pole on wheels with a bag of fluids that is somehow connected to you. More needles than you could ever imagine at this young age – the introduction of each one sparks a screaming fight between your parents.
“You cannot eat without taking a shot.”
“You cannot exercise an excessive amount.”
“You will be hospitalized if you do not care for yourself.”
“You will be sick for the rest of your life.”
You are not notified of what you are able to do; you are held down and limited, but still so youthful and so full of life.
This is day one of living with Juvenile Type One Diabetes Mellitus.
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