Diagnosis story
The guilt of not being in range all day, everyday can sod off! Balance is key.
Hello to you! I was diagnosed at 22 years old with type 1 & have embraced the last 7 years of this as a learning opportunity and really endeavoured to have a positive outlook. There was a period of about 9 months before I was diagnosed where I began to rapidly loose weight, became thirsty beyond belief, was absolutely exhausted despite sleeping +12 hours most nights, and my vision started to blur. The last two months before I was diagnosed, extreme tiredness was hard to handle. Having barely any energy to walk to the toilet, walk up stairs or just get another refill of water was concerning and left me questioning whether ‘this is what it’s like to get old’…at 22. I know. Crazy to believe that I genuinely considered that was a valid reason.
Working as a waitress was absolutely crippling. I'd pretty much fall asleep whilst cleaning tables at the end of the shift, sitting down on the chairs to wipe them whilst eyeing up my next glass of water. It wasn't until I expressed to my sister my concern over how thirsty I was, as I was consistently guzzling pints of water every moment I could, along with fizzy drinks, milk and fruit juice - I just couldn't quench the thirst. Even during the night I’d wake up with a sandpaper like texture in my mouth multiple times and down pints upon pints of water. I was also peeing more than I thought humanly possible, sometimes up to 15-20 times a night. My sister mentioned that I should go to the Dr's as severe thirst is a symptom of type 1 diabetes. It was the first time I’d heard of that and although I noted her advice I casually brushed it off and put it to the back of my mind. The following week, upon a visit to my mum & stepdads, I was in tears because I was loosing so much weight that even my underwear started to hand off me. My thighs had a gapping gap between then, my collarbones were sharp and you could basically see my skull. My fingers seemed longer, my hip bones stuck out and my ribs were showing. Mum was worried and also suggested I head to the Dr's to get a blood test as she thought it was a sign of having type 1 diabetes.
When returning home, I booked an appointment and was lucky to get one that day. I headed to the dr's and he directed me to the hospital where I would have my bloods tested, he said the results would be ready in 3 days time so I went to the hospital and headed back home for some lunch. Three hours after the hospital visit the Dr called me and urged me to head straight to the surgery to discuss the results. He very apologetically gave me the diagnosis, then told me he'd booked a taxi for me as I needed to get to the hospital ASAP. My sugars were something like 38 and he was very concerned, said that my blood was toxic and I was in DKA. I took it in my stride and headed to the hospital. I was of course admitted overnight, popped on a drip as I was dangerously dehydrated, given insulin and had my nurses check my blood sugars every hour for about 24 hours straight. That was a long night!
My first reaction was relief; I was glad to have found out what the problem had been and that I'd hopefully begin to start to feel better. The months of feeling weird in my body would hopefully start to go, the weight loss, the crazy thirst, thrush, rapid eyesight deterioration, continuous need to pee and extreme tiredness was going to stop and I couldn't wait to be back to normal. It wasn’t until the dietitian came to visit me and overloaded me with tons of information that I began to feel panic and I froze up. Nothing she said really sunk in but when I asked her the only real important question anyone wants to know, "Can I eat chocolate?", and she replied with, "Not for a while, no." I cried. I cried and cried. Maybe I wasn't going to 'get back to normal' after all.
Being the eternal optimist I decided that it probably wouldn't be too bad and the smell of insulin reminded me of my grandad, (not bloodline - no one in my family has/had T1). The consultants were happy for me to be discharged as soon as I could independently check my glucose and administer my insulin. The following months were up and down with hypos happening multiple times a day and even in the evening. Scary business. Very scary. I was in denial that I would experience the 'honeymoon period' but it did indeed melt away and I had another long period of time getting my head around counting carbs and managing hypos. My family and friends were so supportive. I count my lucky stars that I had the support I did. If I needed to check my sugar levels or inject insulin in public places I would be discreet, I didn't feel any pressure to hide away to inject in the toilets as many do. I went to restaurants and kept my spirits up.
Due to amount of muscle I had lost, I was keen to build back up to fitness. Worry about having hypos did haunt me and almost prevented me from exercising for a while. I wanted to return to running but I would just always end up having a terrible hypo. The stress then crept up a few months into new life and my hair started to fall out, I was very worried that I'd lose it entirely as so much came out by the handful. Thankfully, it didn't! I popped on my positive hat and cracked on with life. One day at a time.
