My Story (page 2)
Collecting myself, I made the seemingly endless trek to the office. My doctor assumed I had type 2 - given my family history, it was a fair assumption to make. She gave me a shot to stop the nausea and on the other arm, gave me an IV for insulin to slowly bring down my blood sugar and rehydrate my body. She prescribed some pills - the same type my parents use to manage their type 2.
Feeling a little stronger and with my blood sugar back in the normal range, we left the office.
That afternoon, after taking the medication for my "type 2" diabetes, I felt worse. I lay restless, thirstier than ever, weaker... I was terrified. Why didn't I feel better? My parents looked awful. I put them through so much in one day. I stayed quiet and suffered silently through the night.
The next day was January 24 th , and it was my brother's birthday. I took my medication. My parents had a number of errands to do for my brother's birthday. "Go pick up his cake! I'll be fine. Really." They reluctantly left and when they returned, I felt worse. My heart was racing, I crawled to my dad and we tested my sugar. 5 seconds painfully ticked by...
HIGH.
High?? What does that mean? Where are the numbers? Concerned, my dad is immediately on the phone with the advice nurse.
"Let's go."
Go where?? The next thing I know, I'm in the emergency room. The triage nurse is checking my blood sugar again and produces the same results.
HIGH.
I later learned that the meter reads high when the blood sugar is over 600. Over 600. I could not comprehend what that meant. How could it be over 600? And how much over 600 was it, exactly? I was strictly watching my diet and taking the medication as directed. What is going on here?
