My Diabetes to this Point.

I was born in 1980 a healthy 9 lbs. baby girl. Both of my parents are healthy. Other than a history of cancer and heart disease in my family our genes were stable. I had one great aunt on my mother's side who developed diabetes later in her life. I was induced at birth since my mom thought 9 pounds was good enough. I inherited the recessive A negative blood type. Even though both my parents and brother are A positive. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing my genes decided to twist. In August of 1982 I was rushed to the hospital and diagnosed with type one diabetes. This in turn changed both my and my parents' lives.

My poor parents had taken me to doctor's before this in concern. But because the symptoms were flue-like and none of the doctors had seen diabetes in someone so young. I was always sent back home after my parents were told it would pass.

It didn't and I became very ill. My veins collapsed and when my parents took me in they were told their child had a disease that would effect every aspect of her life from then on.

I was put on aggressive therapy at first, which nearly killed me. At one time my mother remembers handing me an apple, turning away and when she looked back I had literally keeled over. I quit breathing and it took the quick thinking of my grandfather to resuscitate me.

So I was put on two humalin injections each day.

My mother put the fear of sugar in me at an early age. She always told me that it would kill me. I honestly thought for a very long time that if I bite into a chocolate bar I would drop dead. Needless to say it kept me away from candy. Though there were times I felt jealous of other kids. They would have all this candy while I had nothing. And my brother was little help. He would wave a chocolate bar in my face then proceed to eat it while I would bite hatefully into a celery.

Another thing I was often left out of was the sleepovers and camping experiences. Since I despised my needles with a passion I was reliant on my mother to give them to me. So if I slept over at a friend's house she would have to come for supper and come back at breakfast. Needless to say I didn't get out much.

I admit that I didn't have many friends as a child and part of this is due to my disease. I was always ostracized because I was a bit odd. At birthday parties I would get excited and then always end up going low. I needed special meals and had a tendency to get very cranky when I went high. And I just did not have the same level of energy as everyone else did. I was difficult and different and timid.

I had to give the 'I'm a diabetic' speech so many times I began to dread it. One of the most common concerns among my classmates was that it was contagious. I have no idea how many times I was asked if it was. I also had one friend who was always telling me that I was going to die since I had 'DIE'abetes.

There's no wonder I turned out to be so strange.

I have regretted my actions when my blood sugar has been low. Such as when I punched my grandmother. I have scared and fought my parents endlessly over the years. They used to have to chase me down and sit on me to get a blood test. I have been looked over by more student doctors than seems possible and asked to be a guinea pig a few times for studies. I have had Six endocrinologists in my lifetime, one kidney specialist, three eye doctors, three educators, and baffled four nutritionists. Then there's the family doctors, the dentist, the allergist and now the sleep specialist�

Every one on them has labeled me as 'free-spirited.' Or in translation- a bloody stubborn pain. But I honestly think that my stubbornness is what has kept me alive this long. It is my lethargic ass that has hampered my efforts.

I have also been through a number of medical alert bracelets over the years. The leading cause in their death was being snagging on the carpet and snapping. And since the damned necklace keeps trying to kill me by wrapping around my neck while I sleep. I am honestly thinking about just getting a medical alert tattoo on my wrist.

I can remember the very first time I gave myself a needle. I was at my best friend's house and I decided that I wanted to stay over. But my mother could not come give me a needle. So I took it upon myself. After an hour of freaking out that I'd make a mistake, I finally took it.

Now it takes me about five minutes tops to do a blood test and the insulin injection and I don't think anything of taking 5 shots a day.

In high school I was put back onto aggressive therapy since my blood reading were starting to disintegrate. This meant that I had to give myself an injection before lunch during the school day. I never let this phase me. I remember hearing about a girl who completely refused to take her insulin when her friends were around and I always wondered why?

I always made it a point that my good friends knew what I was doing and how to help me if I was in trouble. They became accustomed to me yanking up my shirt in the cafeteria and injecting my insulin into my stomach as we ate. Though I always was a bit rushed because by the time I got all my stuff organized they were well into their lunches.

It was also in high school that I met the first diabetic I had known other than my great aunt and myself. My insane physics teacher was also a diabetic. And listening to him tell his stories about travelling up north, skiing and rafting I was amazed that he could do all these things and still have this disease.

I think that every diabetic has some strange stories to tell about their disease. One of mine was the fact I nearly died from a low at the same time Princess Diana was killed. I was in that coma state where although you know what's happening you can no longer comprehend. Hearing people but not hearing them and seeing but having your mind register it, as blackness is always a bloody scary experience. My mother and father managed to drain honey into me and I finally came around when my mom said they were going to the hospital. I was also rather unhappy about the butchery she did of my fingers. For some reason she couldn't get my blood tester to work so she just kept trying. I remember finally coming around and walking into the living room to hear the newsman announce that Diana was dead. Another was the time I went low in my life drawing class. The model took off her robe and I blacked out. Talk about extreme censorship�

Diabetes has always been a part of me. I have never known life as a healthy individual. I know no other lifestyle. Although I am constantly aware of its presence I never really thought about it.

Until now.

Now I have failed college and spent six months barely conscious because of it. The stress of trying to keep a job, insomnia, eat well and graduate from a demanding course was the final straw for my disease. My blood sugar levels flew up to be in the high twenties and thirties. I was sick pretty much every other day. I could no longer eat without being ill so I wouldn't. I was often fevered and there were times that the acid in my blood built up so that my joints burned. I had a few emergency room visits and scared my roommates often as well.

I am currently living in my parent's basement again trying to pull myself back together. After years of living with diabetes I realize that I have taken it for granted. Before I can live I need to stop living with diabetes and start a relationship with it.

Because I honestly think my poor parents have had to deal with my crap long enough.