That was a rough weekend.
Stress and diabetes do not work so well together; first having the extreme low on Saturday then getting myself all worked up about an appointment to have my blood drawn on Tuesday morning. A diabetic should have their blood drawn on a regular basis(minimum every 6 months but preferably every 3) to make sure the HA1c is within normal range. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glycated_hemoglobin
Only after living with diabetes for over 20 years; I get a little(okay a lot) of anxiety over a little needle in the(my) arm. Ive had some "bad experiences" but we wont dwell on that, at least not today. I get anxious just going into a hospital. So on Sunday, my voice decided to go out on me!!!!!!
First dealing with the low sugar, then I lose my voice for the rest of the weekend!!! I pinned it down again to the cold I had last week but after thinking about it today I realized I lost my words due to stress. Stress does strange things to a body, even more so for us who have to care for our diabetes.
So here's a deep breath, and a look forward to a calm week ahead, and the sugars are behaving better for the moment.
Oh and p.s. the blood draw went really well :)
Showing posts with label hospital. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospital. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Chapter One- The hospital
Written Dec 29 2008
Most of the diagnosing period is a blur to me. I half recall getting my first ever IV stabbed into my delicate pale arms. Zach and Chris (who are respectively near my age but have no clue what life change is really happening here) are blowing up latex rubber gloves and letting them go shoot across the room- zoooom zooom zoom. Boys. They are trying their best to cheer me up but I am limp with desolation. I have no idea what is going to happen to me. Although being in the hospital is all too clear to me at the moment.
The only thing I know about disease is that it kills people. Aren’t I too young yet to die? They tell me(as in the "doctors") that I can lead a long, healthful life just like the other "normal" people. Wait just a second here, these "doctors" are telling me I AM NORMAL, but have to take extra good care of myself to be NORMAL, because Im special. And if I dont, unmentionable things could happen to my limbs/arteries/eyes/body. Really are they trying to confuse me on purpose? Because I can tell you it is working.
One of the nurses tells me~ with a smile of all the current emotions available, that insulin is a hormone, made from pigs, diluted so the human body can process it. GROSS. Why couldnt she have lied and told me it was made from dogs, or monkeys, where is the evolutionary connection to livestock? I later learned that the protamine that is mixed with the insulin is derived out of the semen of river trout. Tell me which is the better option to biologically have fish or pig parts swimming along side to my blood cells?!
Thump, thump, thumpity thump. My heart is racing as the nurse gently approaches the side of the hospital bed and in the next not so gentle movement, rips the tape holding the IV from the crook of my elbow, so it doesnt hurt as much she tells me. Oh boy I can already tell Im starting to dislike medical personal.
Diabetes is a healthy disease. They tell me I will understand when Im older. The only thing I understand as tears well up in my seven year old eyes is that I am no longer allowed to consume sugar. I have to count out my raisins, my snacks and carrots, carrots have sugar? Pay close attention to my caloric intake, learn exactly what a carbohydrate is? Not to drink soda pop anymore..... oh gawd I am going to bawl. I am so hungry, I never feel fulfilled and Im thirsty all the time, not to mention the insane urge of having to go pee at least once every hour.
It feels like sugar is pouring throughout my veins and my body does not like all these finger pricks. And the horrifying injections, which my dad is practicing his methods of jabbing onto oranges, and my mom (my parents are divorced) is practicing her stabs onto my big brave dad.
We gather up my get well cards from my second grade class mates, who probably wonder if I will ever be coming back to class. I dread returning to school more than the horrifying injections. I am a quiet kid, and definately do not have an inkling on how to explain my current situation. Can I not just stay home and be home schooled? Go fishing with dad everyday? Or hide under my bed for the rest of my diabetic infested life?
Most of the diagnosing period is a blur to me. I half recall getting my first ever IV stabbed into my delicate pale arms. Zach and Chris (who are respectively near my age but have no clue what life change is really happening here) are blowing up latex rubber gloves and letting them go shoot across the room- zoooom zooom zoom. Boys. They are trying their best to cheer me up but I am limp with desolation. I have no idea what is going to happen to me. Although being in the hospital is all too clear to me at the moment.
The only thing I know about disease is that it kills people. Aren’t I too young yet to die? They tell me(as in the "doctors") that I can lead a long, healthful life just like the other "normal" people. Wait just a second here, these "doctors" are telling me I AM NORMAL, but have to take extra good care of myself to be NORMAL, because Im special. And if I dont, unmentionable things could happen to my limbs/arteries/eyes/body. Really are they trying to confuse me on purpose? Because I can tell you it is working.
One of the nurses tells me~ with a smile of all the current emotions available, that insulin is a hormone, made from pigs, diluted so the human body can process it. GROSS. Why couldnt she have lied and told me it was made from dogs, or monkeys, where is the evolutionary connection to livestock? I later learned that the protamine that is mixed with the insulin is derived out of the semen of river trout. Tell me which is the better option to biologically have fish or pig parts swimming along side to my blood cells?!
Thump, thump, thumpity thump. My heart is racing as the nurse gently approaches the side of the hospital bed and in the next not so gentle movement, rips the tape holding the IV from the crook of my elbow, so it doesnt hurt as much she tells me. Oh boy I can already tell Im starting to dislike medical personal.
Diabetes is a healthy disease. They tell me I will understand when Im older. The only thing I understand as tears well up in my seven year old eyes is that I am no longer allowed to consume sugar. I have to count out my raisins, my snacks and carrots, carrots have sugar? Pay close attention to my caloric intake, learn exactly what a carbohydrate is? Not to drink soda pop anymore..... oh gawd I am going to bawl. I am so hungry, I never feel fulfilled and Im thirsty all the time, not to mention the insane urge of having to go pee at least once every hour.
It feels like sugar is pouring throughout my veins and my body does not like all these finger pricks. And the horrifying injections, which my dad is practicing his methods of jabbing onto oranges, and my mom (my parents are divorced) is practicing her stabs onto my big brave dad.
We gather up my get well cards from my second grade class mates, who probably wonder if I will ever be coming back to class. I dread returning to school more than the horrifying injections. I am a quiet kid, and definately do not have an inkling on how to explain my current situation. Can I not just stay home and be home schooled? Go fishing with dad everyday? Or hide under my bed for the rest of my diabetic infested life?
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