Diagnosis Day
By: Katie Jane Brashier
That will be $3.50 please!” The customer pulled out some crinkled dollar bills and some old quarters, and walked away with his Girl Scout cookies. “That’s another box sold, Mom!” I announced. We were sitting in front of Wal-Mart selling Girl Scout Cookies. It was surprisingly cold for the middle of February, but luckily, we were prepared. “Mom, can I have some more hot chocolate?” I asked. “You just had some!” My mom complained. “But I’m so thirsty!” I whined. My mom handed me a mug of hot chocolate, and I downed it in about thirty seconds! I told my mom I was going to the bathroom, scooted out from behind our counter, and dashed off. “But you just went!” My mom protested, to no avail.
“Hey mom, can I get a twelve inch sandwich?” I asked my mom, as we waited in line at Subway. This Sunday, business was slow, and looking at all those cookies made me feel like I was starving! “I guess,” she unwillingly replied, “but you’ve been eating like a pig recently! If you don’t slow down, you’re going to gain a few pounds!” I gave my order, and then went to the restroom again while my mom paid.
That night, I couldn’t sleep a wink! I constantly tossed and turned. “Ugh! I have to go to the bathroom AGAIN!” I grumbled, getting out of bed. That was the third time that I had gone to the bathroom that night. After I relieved myself, I went to get a drink of water, but I must have guzzled a gallon by then! Two hours later, I got back up and went to the bathroom again. The next morning, we didn’t have school, so I got up, went to the bathroom, and then fixed a bowl of cereal. I ended up eating four bowls of cereal, two pop tarts, and one apple! “Hey Mom, I’ve been going to the bathroom a lot recently. I’ve gone every single period during school last week and a bunch at night!” I said when my mom walked in. “Maybe you have a bladder infection. I’ll schedule an appointment with Dr. Brumit.” said my mom. “But right now, I have to take your brother, Matthew, to get his braces.” With that said, she turned and left.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggg! “Hello?” I asked. “Hey, Babe! Can you take a shower and get dressed in about 3 or 4 hours or so? Matthew has a band concert tonight.” said my mom. I hung up the phone and kept watching TV. What seemed like only 20 minutes later, my mom walked in to find me still watching TV. “Katie Jane! Why aren’t you dressed?” my mom asked. “I don’t know.” was all I said. “Did you take a shower?” my mom asked again. “I don’t know.” I said again. “Um, ok. Well go get dressed!” she replied.
That night was even worse. I went to the bathroom eight times and ended up drinking out of the sink every time. I was just too thirsty to walk a few more steps to the kitchen! I felt horrible in a way that I couldn’t describe.
Twice I got terrible cramps in my leg where it seemed like my whole calf just froze up! Every time it happened I ended up sobbing and then getting up to go to the bathroom. It took me the whole morning to get ready for school because I was tired, thirsty, and starving. “Go brush your teeth!” my dad said. “I already brushed them!” I snapped. “Well brush them again. Your breath stinks!” he said. My dad told my mom that my breath smelled fruity and gross. He suddenly remembered something my Pulmonologist mentioned one time about ketones smelling fruity. Since Mom had already made an appointment with my Pediatrician for that afternoon she sent me on to school and then called the school nurse to tell her my symptoms & ask her to check on me.
Sometime during the end of second period, I got a call to go see the nurse. I walked down the hall, wondering what it could possibly be. “I need to test your blood sugar.” she said when I got there. She pricked my finger and applied the blood to a small machine, and then showed it to me. 360. “Is that bad?” I asked. “Yes, it’s very high.” she replied, “You’ve been showing signs of diabetic activity.”
I walked back to my classroom, bewildered. Diabetes? No. There was some mistake. Fear crept into my heart as I thought about it. Questions whirled through my mind. The big “What if?” that divided so immensely into millions of smaller questions wrapped my brain in a blanket of worry. As I stepped into my 3rd period classroom, discombobulation showed on my face, and my concerned friends rushed to my side. “What’s wrong?” They all seemed to ask at the same time. “I’ve been showing signs of diabetic activity.” I said shakily. Hot tears burned behind my eyes, but I managed to fight them off. I couldn’t concentrate during the whole class, and towards the end, a voice came over the intercom asking me to gather my things to leave. I feigned cheerfulness as my friends bade goodbye, but we all knew that nothing was cheerful about the situation. I walked into the office to see my mom laughing with one of the secretaries. She was also trying to hide her worry. She helped me put my things in the car and we began our journey to the hospital, not more than 10 minutes away.
“We think you have diabetes.” my mom began slowly. The emotional lump of fear and sadness that settles in our throats at the hard times painfully appeared my throat and settled down in the bottom it. Hot tears that have been held back for too long finally spilled down my cheeks. “I don’t want to die.” was all I managed to say. We arrived at the hospital and proceeded to the second floor. I only half listened to the conversation between my mom and my doctor. I glanced at the calendar in dismay. February 13. “Great.” I thought to myself, “I get sick on my dad’s birthday! And before Valentine’s day?”
They stuck an IV in me and walked me to a room in the hospital. At that point I thought that diabetes was like cancer, that I would die in so many weeks or months. I was scared, confused, worried, and alone. No one knew how I felt! No one knew the pain and suffering that I was going through! Everyone tried to comfort me, but no one really understood! Different educators and doctors came in to explain to me what diabetes really was. They stuffed a year’s worth of information into three days. It was overwhelming!
Ok. So I wasn’t going to die. Still, it was heart wrenching.
That afternoon a nurse walked in to give me yet another shot. The nurse told my mom that she was going to have to learn to give me my shots. “Just how long am I going to have this disease?” I asked. “Well, um forever.” She replied. I was shocked. “Well give me the needle and show me how to do it!” I exclaimed, “I might as well learn how to do it myself, if I’m going to have to do it for the rest of my life!” My mom smiled, “Now, that’s my girl!” I could tell she was proud of me, in spite of the tears floating in her eyes.
Sometimes it has been really hard, and sometimes it has been really easy, but all the time it is a challenge, and I never get a break from it. Never. Now I have a diabetic alert service dog and I am planning on getting an insulin pump. I have had Type 1 diabetes for about a year and a half now, but I will never forget what I went through on my diagnoses day. And that is my story!
Diagnosis Day
By: Katie Jane Brashier
That will be $3.50 please!” The customer pulled out some crinkled dollar bills and some old quarters, and walked away with his Girl Scout cookies. “That’s another box sold, Mom!” I announced. We were sitting in front of Wal-Mart selling Girl Scout Cookies. It was surprisingly cold for the middle of February, but luckily, we were prepared. “Mom, can I have some more hot chocolate?” I asked. “You just had some!” My mom complained. “But I’m so thirsty!” I whined. My mom handed me a mug of hot chocolate, and I downed it in about thirty seconds! I told my mom I was going to the bathroom, scooted out from behind our counter, and dashed off. “But you just went!” My mom protested, to no avail.
“Hey mom, can I get a twelve inch sandwich?” I asked my mom, as we waited in line at Subway. This Sunday, business was slow, and looking at all those cookies made me feel like I was starving! “I guess,” she unwillingly replied, “but you’ve been eating like a pig recently! If you don’t slow down, you’re going to gain a few pounds!” I gave my order, and then went to the restroom again while my mom paid.
That night, I couldn’t sleep a wink! I constantly tossed and turned. “Ugh! I have to go to the bathroom AGAIN!” I grumbled, getting out of bed. That was the third time that I had gone to the bathroom that night. After I relieved myself, I went to get a drink of water, but I must have guzzled a gallon by then! Two hours later, I got back up and went to the bathroom again. The next morning, we didn’t have school, so I got up, went to the bathroom, and then fixed a bowl of cereal. I ended up eating four bowls of cereal, two pop tarts, and one apple! “Hey Mom, I’ve been going to the bathroom a lot recently. I’ve gone every single period during school last week and a bunch at night!” I said when my mom walked in. “Maybe you have a bladder infection. I’ll schedule an appointment with Dr. Brumit.” said my mom. “But right now, I have to take your brother, Matthew, to get his braces.” With that said, she turned and left.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggg! “Hello?” I asked. “Hey, Babe! Can you take a shower and get dressed in about 3 or 4 hours or so? Matthew has a band concert tonight.” said my mom. I hung up the phone and kept watching TV. What seemed like only 20 minutes later, my mom walked in to find me still watching TV. “Katie Jane! Why aren’t you dressed?” my mom asked. “I don’t know.” was all I said. “Did you take a shower?” my mom asked again. “I don’t know.” I said again. “Um, ok. Well go get dressed!” she replied.
That night was even worse. I went to the bathroom eight times and ended up drinking out of the sink every time. I was just too thirsty to walk a few more steps to the kitchen! I felt horrible in a way that I couldn’t describe.
Twice I got terrible cramps in my leg where it seemed like my whole calf just froze up! Every time it happened I ended up sobbing and then getting up to go to the bathroom. It took me the whole morning to get ready for school because I was tired, thirsty, and starving. “Go brush your teeth!” my dad said. “I already brushed them!” I snapped. “Well brush them again. Your breath stinks!” he said. My dad told my mom that my breath smelled fruity and gross. He suddenly remembered something my Pulmonologist mentioned one time about ketones smelling fruity. Since Mom had already made an appointment with my Pediatrician for that afternoon she sent me on to school and then called the school nurse to tell her my symptoms & ask her to check on me.
Sometime during the end of second period, I got a call to go see the nurse. I walked down the hall, wondering what it could possibly be. “I need to test your blood sugar.” she said when I got there. She pricked my finger and applied the blood to a small machine, and then showed it to me. 360. “Is that bad?” I asked. “Yes, it’s very high.” she replied, “You’ve been showing signs of diabetic activity.”
I walked back to my classroom, bewildered. Diabetes? No. There was some mistake. Fear crept into my heart as I thought about it. Questions whirled through my mind. The big “What if?” that divided so immensely into millions of smaller questions wrapped my brain in a blanket of worry. As I stepped into my 3rd period classroom, discombobulation showed on my face, and my concerned friends rushed to my side. “What’s wrong?” They all seemed to ask at the same time. “I’ve been showing signs of diabetic activity.” I said shakily. Hot tears burned behind my eyes, but I managed to fight them off. I couldn’t concentrate during the whole class, and towards the end, a voice came over the intercom asking me to gather my things to leave. I feigned cheerfulness as my friends bade goodbye, but we all knew that nothing was cheerful about the situation. I walked into the office to see my mom laughing with one of the secretaries. She was also trying to hide her worry. She helped me put my things in the car and we began our journey to the hospital, not more than 10 minutes away.
“We think you have diabetes.” my mom began slowly. The emotional lump of fear and sadness that settles in our throats at the hard times painfully appeared my throat and settled down in the bottom it. Hot tears that have been held back for too long finally spilled down my cheeks. “I don’t want to die.” was all I managed to say. We arrived at the hospital and proceeded to the second floor. I only half listened to the conversation between my mom and my doctor. I glanced at the calendar in dismay. February 13. “Great.” I thought to myself, “I get sick on my dad’s birthday! And before Valentine’s day?”
They stuck an IV in me and walked me to a room in the hospital. At that point I thought that diabetes was like cancer, that I would die in so many weeks or months. I was scared, confused, worried, and alone. No one knew how I felt! No one knew the pain and suffering that I was going through! Everyone tried to comfort me, but no one really understood! Different educators and doctors came in to explain to me what diabetes really was. They stuffed a year’s worth of information into three days. It was overwhelming!
Ok. So I wasn’t going to die. Still, it was heart wrenching.
That afternoon a nurse walked in to give me yet another shot. The nurse told my mom that she was going to have to learn to give me my shots. “Just how long am I going to have this disease?” I asked. “Well, um forever.” She replied. I was shocked. “Well give me the needle and show me how to do it!” I exclaimed, “I might as well learn how to do it myself, if I’m going to have to do it for the rest of my life!” My mom smiled, “Now, that’s my girl!” I could tell she was proud of me, in spite of the tears floating in her eyes.
Sometimes it has been really hard, and sometimes it has been really easy, but all the time it is a challenge, and I never get a break from it. Never. Now I have a diabetic alert service dog and I am planning on getting an insulin pump. I have had Type 1 diabetes for about a year and a half now, but I will never forget what I went through on my diagnoses day. And that is my story!
