Instructions Not Included

Well. I always wonder how to begin things like this, but here goes, I suppose.

*stands up*

I'm Becky. I'm 24. And I'm diabetic.

*sits back down again*

Now with my AA-style introduction out of the way, I'll expand on that a little. I'm newly diagnosed - 1st May 2009. So I've been dealing with this for....one month and twenty-three days. And trust me, June has been going a lot faster than May. May was like the month that went on forever. It truly did not want to end.

So what's the point of this? Well, I've been reading some pretty amazing blogs out there from PWD, and I thought I'd give it a bash for myself. I doubt anyone will ever read it, but you never know.

Now, just to warn you in advance, this is probably the introductory post that will get really long. Turn away now if you like.

Before my DX, I did actually know a fair bit about diabetes. My Mum and Grandma are both Type 2's, so was aware it was a distinct possibility that I might develop T2 somewhere down the line. But we don't have a history of Type 1. Which is why this was a little bit surprising.

For April and the last half of March, I was drinking - a LOT. Which for someone who normally struggles to drink the recommended amount of water a day is somewhat out of character. I was in and out of the bathroom all night. Tired all the time - I felt like someone had opened up a tap that had just drained all my energy away.

But I didn't want to admit that something was probably wrong. But I got 'persuaded' (and I use that word with a touch of the sarcastic) that it might be a good idea for me to go and see someone. So Friday lunchtime before the bank holiday weekend (for which I had many plans), I popped into the walk in clinic. I wasn't registered with a GP here in York, so I figured this would be the next best thing. I told the nurse there some vague description of symptoms, as I was pretty convinced that I was wasting her time. She told me that it was probably nothing, but she could do a urine test for me 'if I wanted'. In retrospect, it was a good idea I said yes.

'There's a lot of glucose. I'd suggest you went and registered with a GP today.'

So I did. I went over to the nearest surgery to my work, and registered. They had no appointments with a doctor, but could give me an appointment with a nurse, who could do a blood test to sent to labs, and schedule me for a glucose tolerance test.

Went away, came back. Saw the nurse (who I have seen several times since, and utterly adore, for the record), who did a finger prick test on me. Raised eyebrows are not a great reaction.

31.4 (565 for any US readers)

Now, as you would imagine, this means absolutely squat to me. I ask if that's high. She tells me that if it were 13 (234) or higher, she'd say I probably needed to get some immediate help. She goes out to confer with a GP, who comes back in and sits down next to me.

'I hear you're planning on going to Manchester this weekend?'

I was. I was going to support my friend Jenny in her try-outs for something, and then coming back for another friend's annual house party, having missed it for the past two years.

'That's not going to happen. You need to go to the hospital. Now'.

OK, that was not what I wanted to hear. But I was composed, dignified, and took it sensibly and like an adult.

For between 30 seconds and a minute and a half. Which was when I started crying. And I couldn't stop. I went and sat out in the waiting room whilst they printed out a letter for me to take to the hospital. So I'm sat there, frantically calling my housemate (who I'm surprised could understand me), crying my eyes out, when my fab nurse calls in her next appointment. A boy of about seven, who was looking at me with rather wide eyes. In retrospect, I find that quite amusing. I'm sure he wasn't too keen on going in when he saw what the nurse had done to her last patient!

So off I go to the hospital. I insist on going back to my flat first to get some things. And then walking there. No way I'm doing anything but, and I can be extremely stubborn when I want to be. I'm told that if I'd left it much longer, I probably would have arrived in an ambulance after having collapsed from DKA, rather than on my own two feet.

I go in on the 1st, and leave on the 5th with a DX of Type 1 diabetes, a sharps box, glucose meter which will now be my daily companion, and box of NovoMix pens.

So, congratulations if you've made it through this. Welcome to my world.