Final Hours Of Normal Life – DIAGNOSIS DAY

The date was January 28th, 1984 and I was on my to way to Dr. Abbott’s office because my mom was worried. I’d lost 8 lbs. and word on the street, I went from being an obedient, sweet child to a total nightmare. I demanded eating and freaked out if I was denied food or drinks. I have NO recollection of this part of my life. My 600+ blood sugar confirmed my doctor’s worst fear, I had Type 1 diabetes. Dr. Abbott cried as she explained what this meant. My only response was, “You mean no more Snickers?” My mom was given two choices:

1. Rush me to Children’s Hospital.
2. Dr. Abbott was going to call an ambulance.

There was no time waste – I was coma bound.

My nanny and younger sister were dropped at my aunt’s home en route to Children’s. My father was in another hospital and wasn’t to be released for a few more days. Plans change. Everyone’s lives were flipped upside down.

The hospital staff were waiting for me to arrive – whirlwind of doctors, needles and nurses. I was so dehydrated you could see the bones in my hand, my eye sockets were a dark shade of gray and my skin was pasty. I ended up with a bloody IV, but was later glad because they didn’t have to continue to stick me with a gagillion needles. I spent two weeks in Children’s Hospital where I learned to give shots on an orange, test my blood sugar and all things doom and gloom.

I don’t really remember much – not sure if I blacked out the traumatic episode or if those feelings are still lingering deep in my mind. Time will tell, but 31 years later, I still have all of my toes and my attitude has changed. I’m healing my soul by sharing my story and look forward to what the future holds.