Newly Dx Week: Post 2

Diagnosis: Type 1 diabetes.

My dad was the one in denial. He took me over to a family friend's house. This friend had type 2 diabetes. He pricked my finger and tested my blood glucose levels. The numbers showed 400+. "Yeah, that's too high." Little did I know how too high it was.

By the time we arrived at Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City, my sugar had fallen to around 300. I don't remember much about getting to the hospital. I barely remember being taught how to give myself a shot and given a list of menu items to pick for my dinner. I remember asking my dad to bring me a blanket from home when he went back that evening (mom stayed with me). I remember exploring the toy room and reading Baby Sitters Club books. I remembered enjoying the hospital and making friends with other children on my hall. There were at least 2 others who had just been diagnosed with diabetes. One was an 18 month old toddler. I remember his screams as the pricked his finger.

For the first couple years, the doctors praised my progress. My a1c's fell from 13.4 to 9 to 6 within the first 3 months. They said I was doing better than most people my age did. Then, I hit puberty (late, thanks, diabetes). My numbers shot up. And something else happened. Diabetes Denial.

There are five stages to grief, including disease acceptance. Denial, Fear, Anger, Grief, and Acceptance. I think at first I felt fear. It moved into a combination of anger and denial that would stay with me for about ten years. To Be Continued.