By Elijah R. Baker
Staff Writer
y life has changed dramatically.
I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes four days before Christmas. I will never be the same.
On the morning of December 20, I was standing by my front door, fully dressed, with my schoolbooks in hand. I had been home sick for the last two days and wanted to go to school. But my mom looked at my thinning face and said, “No, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
It’s a good thing she did that. After numerous pokes and prods and blood draws, I was diagnosed that day with a rare form of diabetes – a disease which I had previously heard of but never knew much about.
Two weekends prior to my diagnosis, I started to consume carbonated soft drinks such as Cola, Sprite and Vernors. I am not normally a pop drinker.
Also, my 18th birthday was fast-approaching, and I thought maybe the pop and my excitement over my upcoming birthday explained my need to urinate so frequently. I was dead wrong.
Looking back, I should have realized that neither the pop nor my birthday explained my weight loss, dry mouth, blurry vision, clear urine, sore throat, dry skin and overall sluggishness.
Thank God my mom had a mother’s intuition about my symptoms. She and the doctors saved my life.
I suppose that’s why going to school was especially hard for me in December. During that month, my high school was conducting “hall sweeps” and suspending anyone who was not in class on time. I feared that if I stopped to use the bathroom, I might get caught up in the midst of late students and have to “sleep late” on suspension – all because I could not control my bladder.
Going to class was even harder. I had to squeeze my thighs and try to keep a smile on my face. I did not want to keep asking for bathroom passes.
During lunch, I complained to my friends that my throat was sore and my mouth was dry. My friends said that all the sugar in the pop and juices I was drinking was scratching the back of my throat. I saw it as a reasonable explanation. It wasn’t.
At the same time, I had a loss of appetite, and those who know me know that I love food and would often get seconds if I could. I am already naturally thin, and my lack of eating whole meals took a toll on me. I was haggard and weak.
Little did I know that my thirst and persistent need to urinate were signs that my body was critically ill. Even the blurry vision and gaunt cheeks were red flags of my condition.
While all of my classmates were excited about the advent of Christmas Break, I stayed home most of that week in a slump. I wondered if I had the flu. I expected everything to get better over time because my mom was trying her hardest to take care of me. No one knew what I was going through on the inside, nor did I.
Since my diagnosis, I am quickly becoming schooled on the autoimmune disease Type 1 diabetes that affects more than 15,000 children and another 15,000 adults, according to Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation.
It’s the same disease that Academy Award-winning actress Halle Berry and pop-rock band star Nick Jonas both have.
When I arrived at Providence Hospital, a nurse directed me through the double doors where I officially became one of their patients. I was handed a cotton robe to change into and immediately they started hooking me up on IVs and monitors, and drawing my blood from either arm in test tube vials. I had to urinate so much that I had to be put on a catheter.
Another nurse told me my blood sugar was at 1,280. She said, “In all of my eight years of being here, I have never seen that before.” I overheard her say, “He should have been in a coma…Some people don’t make it past 500. It’s unbelievable! He’s 1200 over the normal.”
During my four days in the hospital I was scared because 1,280 was supposed to be my death number. If I had stayed home for another whole day only consuming more juice, with more sugar, I do not believe I would be alive to write my story. The word “coma” still rings in my head. I can still see pop-eyed nurses peering into my room, whispering, “I can’t believe he’s alive” and “He’s still breathing.”
hen I was eventually released from the hospital, I Googled “Type 1 diabetes” and learned that it is an autoimmune disease in which the body destroys the pancreatic beta cells that produce insulin. Insulin is a daily hormone the body is supposed to produce in order to convert glucose into energy.
Type 1 was formerly referred to as “juvenile diabetes” which usually occurs in youth and young adults like me. According to the American Diabetes Association (ADA), only 5 percent of people with diabetes have this form of the disease.
Although the causes of type 1 are still unknown, ADA points out that type 1 occurs more in cold weather climates than in warm climates and that risk factors are inherited from both parents. To my surprise, Diabetes Education Online reports that 85-90 percent of type 1 diabetics have no known family history of it.
Since that fateful day, I have learned that self-educating and being self-aware of my disease will help me understand and live a healthier lifestyle. Type 1 is neither curable nor preventable, but I can take steps to control it.
I thank God for Google. From Google, I learned that Type 1 diabetics rely on daily injections of insulin for the rest of their lives, or they wear an insulin pump. I don’t know much about the pump because I use a Lantus insulin pen injection every morning and evening, which flows in my body throughout the day. Luckily, I don’t have a fear of needles.
also take another form of insulin called Humalog, which is fast-acting. I inject myself before most meals because I’m still in a “honeymoon” stage. Part of controlling diabetes, either type 1 or 2, is constantly checking blood glucose levels throughout the day. It’s a hassle I will learn to live with.
As a diabetic, not only do I have to worry about being hyperglycemic (having high blood sugar), but I have to worry about being hypoglycemic (having low blood sugar). Being hypoglycemic will also send me into shock if I am too low, and that is why controlling my sugar level is so important to my health. One of the best things about the human body is that it tells me when I start to become hypoglycemic. My hands will shake, I will feel light-headed, and I will sweat. I have learned to listen to these cues and respond to them.
The nutritionist at Providence taught me to “count carbs” because, little did I know, carbohydrates turn into sugar, which will raise my blood sugar level. Every 15 grams of glucose count as one carbohydrate. I can eat no more than about four per meal. For me, this means I can’t order the Double Baconator Combo at Wendy’s anymore. That’s too many carbs at once. Now I have to order a single or double cheeseburger. No fries or pop with that. I eat lots of little meals, no big ones anymore. I also have to read nutrition labels that I formerly crumpled up and discarded before my diagnosis.
There will be no more eating pizzas every weekend. I will opt for the healthy snacks and dodge the Snickers candy bars, even the one my newspaper teacher gave me before the holidays. I had to give it away.
Like all the Weight Watchers out there, I have to portion out my meals and bypass seconds. Fitness will be a part of life too, but not too much because I am unstable and my sugar level is constantly fluctuating.
Maybe I’ll take up yoga.
I realize that living with type 1 diabetes is not the end of the world. I know it is scary to think about, but it can happen to anyone. I want others who are healthy to understand that the body gives signs when things are not “right.” I waited too long to see a doctor, and that was my mistake. I was half dead and did not even know it.
Part of being healthy, I learned, is paying attention to the natural signs the body gives. It’s important to respond early to those signs instead of just hoping they will pass. Some who were not so lucky when they were in my position either died or wound up in a coma. I do not want that to be you. I allowed my 1,280 problems to endanger my life.
I was released the day before Christmas Eve, when everyone was still shopping for last-minute gifts to place under that infamous tree. When Christmas Day came, I was not expecting something to be under the tree. I did not expect anything at all because I already had what I most wanted …my life.
Elijah R. Baker is a senior who plans to attend Wayne State University and study criminal justice.