It took me a while to decide what to write as my first blog post. As my blog name suggests, my immune system assassinated my pancreatic beta cells. Get it? Pancreas-assassin....pancreassassin? Anyway, I've decided to start my blog by telling the story of my diagnosis I don't know why, but I like reading others' diagnosis stories, and if you're like me... pull up a chair and read on.
I was seven years old in 1997 when I started to feel like absolute garbage. Every diabetic knows what I mean. I was losing weight and peeing all the time. I started wetting the bed again. I was so embarrassed that I would not have friends stay over at my house, nor I would I stay at theirs. I remember going on an out-of-town soccer trip with my brother and his friends. I was teased for being the stupid little sister who still wet the bed at 7. My cousin and my great-uncle both had type 1 diabetes at the time, and my mother was familiar with the signs. She took me to the doctor, had my blood drawn, and took me home, where my (non-diabetic) cousin teased me about never being able to eat sugar again. Not long after, I was on my way to the children's hospital. The ride seemed to take forever, and I slept on and off the entire way there.
In the hospital I learned to test my blood sugar and about the importance of insulin. I got an orange workbook with a clock on the front. It was called "It's Time to Learn About Diabetes!" Awesome. The workbook included letters to give to friends and teachers to tell them about diabetes as well as a list of famous type 1 diabetics. I understand the theory behind it- nobody wants to feel like they're alone, and knowing of successful people with your condition can help. Being 7, I didn't know anyone on the list, except for Mary Tyler Moore (and let's face it, a child doesn't have much in common with an adult).
When I went back to school with my new diagnosis, I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms. Now, I don't blame my peers for thinking diabetes was contagious. They were children. But it still hurt to be shunned by everyone. I was the only diabetic in school. For the first few weeks my mom had to come to school at lunch time to help me with my blood testing because the nurse would not.
About a month after my diagnosis, I turned 8. My classmates had decided I wasn't contagious, and came to my birthday party. That was the first time I had to do a blood test and shot in front of my friends. I didn't want to. I hid in my closet. Actually, I hid in my parents' closet so they wouldn't find me. Eventually they did, and they got me to test and shoot. I didn't get to have cake during that party, and one of my friends squeezed the cat so hard he pooped. Worst party ever.
Later that year my family moved states, and we landed where we are now. My new classmates accepted me, diabetes and all. Nearly 16 years later, I'm still here, and so is the diabetes. And now here is this blog. Stay tuned for more updates!
I was seven years old in 1997 when I started to feel like absolute garbage. Every diabetic knows what I mean. I was losing weight and peeing all the time. I started wetting the bed again. I was so embarrassed that I would not have friends stay over at my house, nor I would I stay at theirs. I remember going on an out-of-town soccer trip with my brother and his friends. I was teased for being the stupid little sister who still wet the bed at 7. My cousin and my great-uncle both had type 1 diabetes at the time, and my mother was familiar with the signs. She took me to the doctor, had my blood drawn, and took me home, where my (non-diabetic) cousin teased me about never being able to eat sugar again. Not long after, I was on my way to the children's hospital. The ride seemed to take forever, and I slept on and off the entire way there.
In the hospital I learned to test my blood sugar and about the importance of insulin. I got an orange workbook with a clock on the front. It was called "It's Time to Learn About Diabetes!" Awesome. The workbook included letters to give to friends and teachers to tell them about diabetes as well as a list of famous type 1 diabetics. I understand the theory behind it- nobody wants to feel like they're alone, and knowing of successful people with your condition can help. Being 7, I didn't know anyone on the list, except for Mary Tyler Moore (and let's face it, a child doesn't have much in common with an adult).
When I went back to school with my new diagnosis, I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms. Now, I don't blame my peers for thinking diabetes was contagious. They were children. But it still hurt to be shunned by everyone. I was the only diabetic in school. For the first few weeks my mom had to come to school at lunch time to help me with my blood testing because the nurse would not.
About a month after my diagnosis, I turned 8. My classmates had decided I wasn't contagious, and came to my birthday party. That was the first time I had to do a blood test and shot in front of my friends. I didn't want to. I hid in my closet. Actually, I hid in my parents' closet so they wouldn't find me. Eventually they did, and they got me to test and shoot. I didn't get to have cake during that party, and one of my friends squeezed the cat so hard he pooped. Worst party ever.
Later that year my family moved states, and we landed where we are now. My new classmates accepted me, diabetes and all. Nearly 16 years later, I'm still here, and so is the diabetes. And now here is this blog. Stay tuned for more updates!
