Guest Post by: Karen of Bitter-Sweet Diabetes
I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in 1979. I’ve read the diagnosis stories of so many other bloggers and I try to think back to my own diagnosis story. I was 11 at the time, which is certainly old enough to have clear memories. But I suppose the past 31 years have caused them to become burry and faded. There are only a few things I can still recall.
I remember my friend’s grandmother took us to the movies one day. I had to ask her to take me to the ladies room several times. By the third time, my friend’s grandmother started to get annoyed and decided to let me go by myself.
I remember being so queasy that I couldn’t eat. My mom would go to the store and bring home all sorts of new things to try to tempt me with. For some reason, the one that sticks in my head is grapefruit. I remember we put a lot of sugar on it.
I don’t remember much about going to the ER. I just remember being on a gurney and being pushed quickly through the hall. I liked the way the doctor’s lab coats flapped behind them like the capes of superheroes’.
Once I was out of Intensive Care, I remember being in a room with another girl as my room-mate. I have no idea what she was in the hospital for. She loved to watch Benny Hill, which I had never seen before. I quickly found that I really didn’t like that show and I couldn’t understand why she laughed so hard at the different skits. We watched a lot of Benny Hill, because I was too shy to ask for a turn with the TV remote and she never offered.
I remember one of the other children on our floor had a birthday, and the nurses brought him a cake. When my nurse came to check on me, I explained to her that I wasn’t allowed to have cake anymore. She told me that once a year, only on my birthday, I could have one slice.
There are also things I’ve read in other diagnosis stories that I don’t remember at all. I don’t remember learning to give injections on an orange. Actually I don’t remember learning to give injections at all, so maybe I did learn on an orange. I also don’t ever remember being told that in five years there would be a cure for Type 1 diabetes. I’ll have to ask my mom if she remembers being told that.
Sometimes I wish I remembered more about my diagnosis and the months leading up to it. But for the most part, it doesn’t matter that I don’t really remember. And to be honest, I’m very glad I don’t remember being told that there would be a cure in five years. Because thirty one years later, we still don’t have one.
You can read more about Karen at Bitter Sweet Diabetes
You can follow Karen tweets @Karen_MST