A week before we came back to school from Christmas break I was at the doctor for a checkup. They noticed that there was glucose in my urine (gross, sorry), so they asked if I had a soda before I came. I hadn't so they checked my blood sugar. The nurses didn't say anything and went out of the room. They came back in and told me my glucose level was almost 400 (the normal is between 80 and 120). They then said that they think I might have diabetes. At this point I'm freaking out, my mom is having a heart attack, and all I can think is "Well ivy, you've eaten too many Oreos and sour patch kids. Good job." So the doctor comes in, says he needs to run some more tests, but he also thinks I have type 1 diabetes. I learn that type 1 is completely different from type 2, which both of my grandmothers have, and that it's not my fault. My pancreas is just dumb and doesn't want to produce any insulin. I didn't notice that I was having any of the symptoms, but once I found out what they were I realized that I actually had been thirstier than usual. They get a few blood samples and schedule an appointment for a few days later.
I go back, they confirm, and teach me how to take care of myself. I learn how to check my blood sugar, give myself insulin shots, and how to count carbs. So they tell me until I can get my blood sugar under control, I have to check it before and after every meal. That means 6 pricks a day, 1 long acting insulin shot, and a short acting shot before every meal. At the time, I just did as I was told and dealed with it. Of course, I was upset that this happened to me and especially my freshman year of college!
So two days later I head back up the mountain to my college dorm room, not looking forward to breaking the weird news to my roommate and closest friends.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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