My life as a diabetic...teenage years....part 1

The next few years were pretty uneventful. Pretty good control. Did what I was told. Then came the teenage years. This part may not be real clear. I don't remember a lot of it. It isn't any wonder. The beginning of my teenage years weren't too bad. I went to Christian school. My Christian school friends were wonderful people. I never felt out of place with them. Then the school started to go down hill. I went back to public school. Boom. Ninth grade and public school. I had no idea how to fit in with these kids. I was awkward. They were mean. It did not take long before I was severely depressed. That is one reason I don't remember a lot of it. The other is probably because my blood sugar was so far out of control. Suicide was a pretty prominant thought. Day in and day out I would wish I was dead instead of having to face another day at school. That's probably a big part of the reason I have not gone to a reunion. Don't get me wrong. There were a lot of good kids there too. I hear from the good ones once in awhile. The ones that made me feel like crap, well let's just say I don't really care what happened to them. And with the depression came problems. I did not even bother to test my blood sugars. I didn't want to live so why did I care what my blood sugar was. I ate anything I wanted. Sometimes I would even take massive doses of insulin. I would binge and eat every kind of sweet thing I could find. I would get sick and miss school or classes. Teachers thought I was faking. Students thought I was a loser. Then came my eleventh grade year. It was a troublesome year at best. I had my first sexual experience. I wasn't ready, but I can't really say I regret it. It was what it was. Now the ones that followed I can honestly say I regret most of them. (At least I would if I could remember most of them.) He did not pressure me and he never treated me badly. I remember riding in his bronco singing to the radio mostly. I often ate things when I was with him that I shouldn't. That is when I really started having problems. I would eat things I shouldn't. Then my blood sugar would be extremely high. I would be so thirsty and feel so ill going to class. I could hardly stand how dry my mouth felt during class. To be able to bear the dryness I would suck on a lollipop during class! Talk about adding fuel to the fire. Then I would rush to the bathroom between classes to pee. I started carrying a one liter bottle of diet coke with me at all times. I could drink it in no time. I was always exhausted. I couldn't stay awake. I would fall asleep any chance I got. And.........everyone thought I was faking. They thought I wanted out of class. I missed so much class that I was totally lost in all my classes. I felt stupid when I did go to class. Every day I hated myself more. Then came the day, January 11, 1986, when it all became almost too much for my body to bear. I felt pretty ill. I was vomiting violently, projectile vomiting. I just kept getting sicker and sicker. My dad does not handle sickness well and he was angry. I knew he loved me but the more I saw his anger the more I just wished the diabetes and this sick feeling would take me. It almost did. After much vomiting my mother decided to take me to the hospital. She went to get the car. I tried to walk out to the car but couldn't make it. I laid down on the floor in the hallway. That made my dad mad. I cried for awhile as I rode to the hospital. I don't remember how I got in the car. Then I just felt too sick to cry. My mom took me to Uniontown Hospital. Back then the emergency room had two areas. One was a hallway with a bunch of small exam rooms. That is where they took the minor emergencies. Then there was the other room. It was one big room with several beds, separated by curtains. That was where the major emergencies went. I was taken to the big room. By this time I was not only vomiting almost constantly, but I was struggling to breathe. I was later told that my breath could be felt six feet away. I remember a nurse coming in and telling me to stop breathing like that. It was the only way I could breathe. I had no contol over it. I felt physically and emotionally like shit. I don't remember a lot. Just a lot of blood tests and more vomiting. I must have had an IV but I don't remember. Then a nurse came in (a different one from the one that told me to stop breathing like that) and asked me if I was afraid to fly. I told her that I wasn't. So they prepared me for the arrival of the helicopter. I was going to Pittsburgh and I was going in a hurry. The helicopter ride was OK, except for having to pee halfway there. There is no place to pee in a helicopter. I was rushed into Children's Hospital. There things really started moving. I was hooked up to everything. I had IV's in both arms and my leg. I was put on a monster of a machine. It was an insulin pump and it was the size of a typewriter. I am convinced that crude insulin pump saved my life. I was put on oxygen, which I hated. I kept pulling it off my face. (even in my sleep) I wanted a drink so desperately but they wouldn't give it to me. When someone wiped my face with a washcloth I grabbed it and sucked it. I didn't get my face wiped anymore. My heart rate while lying perfectly still was 180 beats a minute. Over the next 8 hours I lost fourteen pounds. My parents were told that my body was doing the equivelant of running uphill for days without a rest. My dad and brother met me in Pittsburgh. I asked to see my brother when he got there. I told him I was not going to die. I really was pretty close to it. My parents sat by my side. My brother waited outside the room. I was in a room meant for 3 patients. I was in it alone because they needed that much room to care for me. At one point I remember telling my mother that my heart rate would go down but I was tired and needed to sleep. When I awoke she was sitting there. I asked her if my heart rate had gone down at all. She said that it hadn't. I told her to look again. With every bit of me I willed my heart to slow down. My heart slowed down. While I had been asleep I dreamed (?) I went to the edge of heaven. I couldn't go in. It wasn't time. Then I woke up. I told my mother that I was not going to die. Then I began to heal. By the next day I was walking around the halls and acting like a teenager. But in the next few years, I would continue to rebel...