My Type 1 Diabetes Diagnosis at 20 Years Old
As a full-time college student trying to earn some extra money, I frequently spent weekends working the morning shift at a local diner. At times it was exhausting, but who wouldn’t expect to be exhausted by this? The drop in my energy levels felt like a natural consequence of the work I was putting in. It was easy to write off as “normal.”
And that’s exactly what’s so troubling about the symptoms of diabetes: they’re so normal.
I was a vegetarian and for the first time found myself working out at the gym consistently. I lost 25 pounds because of my new, healthy lifestyle. My weight loss did not concern me; it excited me. I remember looking down at the gap between my seatbelt and my stomach which had never existed before. I thought to myself, “I’m finally skinny.” This was liberating, not concerning.
I was refilling my water bottle 8-9 times a day. I was proud of myself for having such a great habit of staying hydrated. I wasn’t concerned that I had to pee so frequently, because I was drinking so much water throughout the day. At that point in my life, the first thing I would do every day was either gulp down the glass of water at my bedside, or scramble to the bathroom.
I had become more emotional than ever before. Things that never felt like a big deal to me before became dramatic events that brought tears and angry conversations. However, I was 20, a sophomore in college, and in the ripe phases of the COVID-19 pandemic. Life wasn’t normal, which was the simple answer to my worries. I wouldn’t say I liked that I had become more emotional, but it didn’t alarm me to consider that something was wrong with me.
My tongue was in pain. I would work entire shifts without eating because even a soft piece of bread would irritate my tongue. Every time I ate, my tongue would swell up and small bumps would appear on the surface. Each tiny bump brought so much pain. I began to wonder if I had an allergy to gluten, dairy, nuts, or something else. I even brought a drink with coconut water to my doctor’s appointment after I felt an intense reaction, insisting that this must be the problem. My doctor ordered immediate blood work. I knew this would help my problem, but I didn’t know that the answer would change my life.
I received a call while preparing for my diner shift at 5:30 a.m. the next morning. It was a Saturday, and I received three calls from an unfamiliar number. When I answered, I heard a doctor who works under the same practice as mine, letting me know that my blood sugar was over 500, and I needed to go straight to the emergency room. So, I called out of work, ran to the car with my mom, and did a pathetic job fighting back my tears. By the time I arrived at the hospital, and was greeted by a woman who’d said that my mom could not come inside with me (again, COVID times), I was a mess.
Three long days full of nurses, doctors, specialists, and That 70’s Show later, and I was released with my new diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes. I had asked for four doctor’s opinions by the time I was diagnosed, each insisting that I had a different rare illness. All it took was one doctor to order routine bloodwork to know what had been controlling my physical and mental wellness for the past 6+ months.
