Hello. My name is Marianne, and I am a type 1 diabetic. This is my story...
It was January 23rd, 2002. I had been dehydrated for two days now. I was weary and confused, but other than that, I was a healthy, active 23 year-old. But that morning, I woke up slowly, crawled to the bathroom, and vomited. Breaking out into a cold sweat, I dragged myself to my parent's room.
My parents are both type 2 diabetics. In fact, type 2 runs very heavily on both sides of my family. I knew I would get it one day, but as for now, I was young, healthy, active, and had no sweet tooth. I took care of myself. I told my mom that I was dehydrated and kept drinking water, but my body could not retain it and I kept going to the bathroom. I was weak, lethargic, and light-headed. My mom immediately suspected my blood sugar. She checked my sugar and the five seconds it took to display the results was an eternity.
276. What did that mean? My mom gasped. She immediately picked up the phone and dialed our friend, who also happened to be the family doctor. Twenty minutes later - weaker, more confused, and growing more and more nervous, I found myself in the waiting room at the doctor's office. Thoughts were flying through my head -
"What is going on here?"
"I can't be diabetic - can I????"
"I'm too old for type 1 and too young for type 2!"
"I don't even have a sweet tooth! I'm not overweight!"
"Can I still eat Krispy Kremes??"
I called my boyfriend from the waiting room. He was at work and concerned to not see me online as usual. When he asked me what was wrong, I could barely utter the word "diabetic". When I finally did, my voice cracked, and I cried just a little.
"Marianne Szeto," the nurse smiled warmly as she could see the fear in my eyes.