A 10 Year Anniversary (Part 3)
So there I am in the summer after my senior year of high school. I was working out and running as much as possible. I was roofing in the mornings to make some money. Sidenote: roofing is the worst and most miserable job ever. Black tar paper and the summer sun = not a good mix. I had what I believe to be a heat stroke because of it. More on that later. At night I had musical rehearsals that involved a lot of dance practices. I was pretty much a non-stop blur of action. All the while I was shedding weight to get ready for soccer in college.
The musical ran its course and ended in late June or early July. By the time the show started, my costume, which I was fitted for in May, did not even come close to fitting. The shirts, jackets, and pants all drooped off of me. We made due.
The last few weeks before the show ended I was dropping weight quickly. I was eating like a freaking horse four or five times a day. I was quite literally drinking gallons of water every day and going to the bathroom every 30 minutes. My eye sight went to shit too. My weight went from 230 the summer before to about 195 by the time the musical started and to about 165-170 by the end of the musical. I was literally three-quarters the man I used to be!
Anyhow, in early July I went to the doctor to get my routine college physical. The doctor went to check my eyes and I told them they were crap but that I had an eye doctor's appointment later that week. We skipped the exam. I went into the exam room and a nurse started asking me questions in general about my health. She asked if anything was wrong or if I had any questions. She had noted my drastic weight loss over the last year when she weighed me in, but we both attributed it to my new-found workout regimen. When I told her off the eating and drinking and bathrooming, she told me to hold on and walked out. I knew something was wrong. The doctor came in and pricked my finger and tested by blood sugar. It was about 330 as I recall. Normal people will have a blood sugar reading of 70-120. He immediately diagnosed me with Type I (juvenile) diabetes. At the age of 18.
The doctor was both amazed and shocked about the diagnosis. Usually people find out because they pass out or go into a coma and get dragged into the hospital. Apparently living such a wild and active life saved me from that drama. I was quite literally burning enough sugar out of my system that I did not poison myself to the point of a coma. That's the "beauty" of diabetes. That which gives me life (food) poisons me at the same time.
I called my mom and she rushed over to the doc's office. We were sent from there to the ER to a diabetes teacher. We went over the implications, how to give myself shots, etc., etc., etc. It was a lot to take in. I had to, and still do, give myself a shot after every meal and one at night. There are lots of types of insulin, so I won't bore you with that... but the types of insulin and how they work is why I have four shots. The way I eat, what I eat, and how much I eat changed. Not a moment has passed in the last 10 years where I do not think about my disesase. It permeates my very being. It has to.
Still to come... the psyche of a diabetic (ooooh! ahhhhh!)
The musical ran its course and ended in late June or early July. By the time the show started, my costume, which I was fitted for in May, did not even come close to fitting. The shirts, jackets, and pants all drooped off of me. We made due.
The last few weeks before the show ended I was dropping weight quickly. I was eating like a freaking horse four or five times a day. I was quite literally drinking gallons of water every day and going to the bathroom every 30 minutes. My eye sight went to shit too. My weight went from 230 the summer before to about 195 by the time the musical started and to about 165-170 by the end of the musical. I was literally three-quarters the man I used to be!
Anyhow, in early July I went to the doctor to get my routine college physical. The doctor went to check my eyes and I told them they were crap but that I had an eye doctor's appointment later that week. We skipped the exam. I went into the exam room and a nurse started asking me questions in general about my health. She asked if anything was wrong or if I had any questions. She had noted my drastic weight loss over the last year when she weighed me in, but we both attributed it to my new-found workout regimen. When I told her off the eating and drinking and bathrooming, she told me to hold on and walked out. I knew something was wrong. The doctor came in and pricked my finger and tested by blood sugar. It was about 330 as I recall. Normal people will have a blood sugar reading of 70-120. He immediately diagnosed me with Type I (juvenile) diabetes. At the age of 18.
The doctor was both amazed and shocked about the diagnosis. Usually people find out because they pass out or go into a coma and get dragged into the hospital. Apparently living such a wild and active life saved me from that drama. I was quite literally burning enough sugar out of my system that I did not poison myself to the point of a coma. That's the "beauty" of diabetes. That which gives me life (food) poisons me at the same time.
I called my mom and she rushed over to the doc's office. We were sent from there to the ER to a diabetes teacher. We went over the implications, how to give myself shots, etc., etc., etc. It was a lot to take in. I had to, and still do, give myself a shot after every meal and one at night. There are lots of types of insulin, so I won't bore you with that... but the types of insulin and how they work is why I have four shots. The way I eat, what I eat, and how much I eat changed. Not a moment has passed in the last 10 years where I do not think about my disesase. It permeates my very being. It has to.
Still to come... the psyche of a diabetic (ooooh! ahhhhh!)
posted by MD at
10:05 AM
1 Comments:
(I have nothing to say that is meaningful right now, aside from - thank you for sharing all of this.)
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