The Day the Bottom Fell Out

I'm sorry I've been away for so long, but I have a new religion- diabetes.

About 4 or 5 times a day I make blood offerings to the Vampire God FingerStick. He tastes my blood then judges whether I have been good or bad. I am scared to death of FingerStick.

FingerStick is married to the Goddess Insulin. I must always remember Her and keep her holy. I worship Insulin before each meal. This great goddess both gives life and takes it away.

As with any religion, there is an initiation process- diabetic coma.

I'm sorry if I sound a little trite. The only way to live with this disease is to acknowledge it and then be determined not to let it overwhelm you. Diabetes is the Chariot card- make sure you are driving and not being driven.

I felt fine, just thirsty. Then 2 weeks ago I thought I had a virus. I was vomiting every time I tried to eat. Kevin was not home, he spent the night with his children. I was beginning to get concerned about dehydration so I decided to call my landlord since he lives next door. I got my phone, but I don't remember anything afterwards.

The next morning Kevin tried calling me to see if I was going to work. When I didn't answer he came home and found me laying across the bed still holding the cell phone. He took me to the ER. My blood sugar was over 1,200 which is incredibly high. My body temperature was 89 degrees.

I don't remember the first few days in the hospital. When I did begin to wake up it was like one surreal nightmare. Nothing made sense. I began to think people were trying to hurt me so I decided to escape. I tried repeatedly to get up so the nurse finally tied me to the bed. Later I felt very bad about that and I apologized to him.

A diabetic coma is not exactly like a regular coma where the patient lays unmoving. I could open my eyes, move a bit, moan, and sometimes talk. I remember none of it. I don't remember anyone coming to visit me, not my family, my friends, or even Kevin. Actually, when I woke up I thought he hadn't come to the hospital at all and I felt really angry. Then my landlord told me Kevin took off work to see me and realized just how out of it I was.

I got out of the hospital on Mother's Day. I used to wonder how diabetics pricked their fingers and gave themselves shots. Then the nurse told me I couldn't leave the hospital until I learned to do these things. I was willing to give birth to penguins if it meant going home. So I can test my blood and I can give myself shots. As long as I think about insulin as being part of my food I am fine. But I feel squeamish if I think about stabbing myself in the stomach with a needle.

My doctor says I am doing very well with the food. I have decided to focus on what I can have. I can eat any kind of meat I want. Steak, chicken, fish- if it's meat I can eat it. I can have all the pickles I want. I can still drink whole milk and eat cheese. I can't eat ketchup anymore, but I can have mustard. Sometimes I think of a food I can't have and then I feel a little depressed.

They are making wonderful advances in diabetic care. Things get better all the time. Insulin comes in what is called 'pens' (because it looks like an ink pen). A dial on the end tells me the dose and I just press the button. I don't have to fool with vials or needles. They make meters which draw blood out with a laser, so there's no need to prick you're finger (these are expensive, but available) And in the labs they are growing insulin producing cells so I think one day you could just get cell transplants and then be cured of type 1 diabetes (that's me). I think that may be perfected soon, maybe in 10 years or less. So I don't feel like I have a lifetime condition or incurable illness. I just feel like for now FingerStick will be by my side.