My Diabetes

Read, relate and write. Share with others how you felt when you were first diagnosed with the big D, or celebrations and frustrations about living with diabetes.

If you've just been diagnosed with diabetes, I know what you're going through. You're probably scared, confused, mad and maybe you're still in denial about it all.

I remember when I was first diagnosed. When I realized it wasn't going to just go away, I got pretty scared and didn't want to think about it anymore.

The good thing is my parents were there to help me check my blood sugar, take my insulin shots and count my carbs. They were new at it too, so we kind of learned together. Diabetes takes a lot of getting used to, but after a while, it just becomes normal.

One of the hardest things I remember was dealing with my diabetes at school. I didn't like checking my blood sugar during class or having to eat a snack when no one else was. But once I explained why I had to do it to the other kids, they were pretty cool about it. Some of my friends were freaked out by the sight of blood or needles so I'd make sure they were looking the other way when I tested or gave myself an injection.

I'm not going to lie. You'll go through a lot of changes as you get used to living with diabetes everyday and it can be hard! Mostly, you just get so tired of having to be on alert all the time. There are days when you'll just want to give up and not care about what'll happen if you don't count your carbs or check your blood sugar. But trust me, it's not worth it. You'll feel miserable.

On the flip side, if you work with your parents and your D-team to care for your diabetes – you can do anything you normally enjoy and you'll feel good too!

I was diagnosed just after fifth grade ended. When my grandfather stepped off the plane for his summer visit, the first thing he said was "Hi," and the second thing he said was "Something is wrong with that boy." I didn't have a huge diabetic emergency that lead to my diagnosis. I just remember my legs being ridiculously skinny, and also that I had been wetting the bed at night because of high blood sugars and the associated water intake. I guess I did a good job of hiding it for a while.

A few days later, we took a trip from upstate New York down to Washington, D.C., to visit my aunt. I wet the guest bed and again tried to hide it, and then on the way home I insisted that we stop the car every forty-five minutes so I could refill the orange half-gallon Tupperware jug from which I was drinking water. That's when my mom realized something was wrong.

In the doctor's office a few days later, I remember my mom saying that she had noticed me "craving sugar" -- eating cake icing by the spoonful and so on -- and in retrospect I guess that should have been a dead giveaway. The doctor came back a while later with the diagnosis.

I was only in the hospital for a day and a half, maybe two, and they insisted on it so they could train me how to check my blood sugar and give myself insulin; my mom was thrilled that I gave my first injection myself. In between training sessions I'd play Zelda; my parents wouldn't allow a Nintendo at home, so I was delighted by the whole endeavor. As I was being discharged, I thought it was quite stupid that they insisted in keeping me in the wheelchair all the way up to the door.

After getting home we sat down for lunch; this was in the days before carb counting, when every last portion of everything was rationed. There were carrots, I remember, and the first of what would later prove to be way too many servings of sugar-free Jello® for one lifetime. I tried to make my mom feel better and said, "I guess I'll have to be careful about what I eat now," I said, "but other than that, I don't really think this is a big deal." I'm not so sure about that anymore...

I used to be pretty discreet about my shots and blood tests in public, not because I was embarrassed, but because I felt like I should show some respect for the people who wouldn't be able to stomach watching some dude give himself an injection at the dinner table.

That all ended during a field trip with the debate team during my freshman year of high school. I headed off give myself my evening shot in the bathroom, which was filthy, and the little elastic band that held my insulin vial in the case snapped as I was pulling it out, sending the bottle crashing to the floor below. The teacher had to wander around Charlotte with a bus-load full of kids until she found a 24-hour pharmacy. I'm still hearing about that one.

I was diagnosed my freshman year of high school which was a whirlwind! I was adjusting to taking advanced classes, finding my way there in 4 minutes, practicing Color Guard four and five nights a week, and trying to make new friends. All of these things put a strain on my body, one I definitely recognized from being tired every night after Color Guard practices. Like any other teenage girl, I was only happy to realize I was losing some weight.

Being hungry, thirsty, and going to the bathroom often were merely shoved behind my worries of keeping straight As and performing well at football games.

So that fateful day - October 14, 2002 -- I finally made time to go to the doctor, because I was too tired and sick at this point. I remember, like a child, my doctor telling me almost immediately "Dana, I think you have diabetes."

In four years, so many things have changed. I immediately refused the idea of an insulin pump the day I was diagnosed. I was too scared to tell my friends that I was now "different," that I no longer completely fit in with them. I was angry, I was tired, and I was sad. I hated diabetes with all my heart.

But I've come along way since that day. Today I flip the top off of my bottle of insulin with the ease that another teen acquires after months of flipping the caps off of root beer bottles. Sometimes I don't notice the difference between light freckles on my arms and the many places I test my blood sugar.

Diabetes has indeed made me cry quite a few times the past four years, but diabetes has also given me strength, poise, maturity, and an education of a lifetime. I feel confident in all aspects of my life now and have learned to "roll with the shots," so to speak.