Sitting anxiously, passing nervous silence, and hoping for the best was where my life changed. The dull doctors room created a tense presence within it. My mom holding my five year old hand comforted me a bit. Not having much knowledge about this process didn’t help my case. What happened if I was going to die? Did I do something to cause this? Ticking of the clock took over my deep thoughts.
Previously, I lost a lot of weight, I was crabby all the time, and was drinking a lot of water. These new symptoms did not seem irregular. I didn’t notice a change in myself until my mom spoke up. Immediately after she had brought that up I became obsessed with my body and its’ changes. There was too many changes in a short span of time that I couldn’t help. My paranoia began there. Talking about going to the doctors for days made me apprehensive. Then, we finally went. Being in the room for 15 minutes did not give me any more hope. I heard my doctor's voice a few rooms over.
“Five-ten more minutes I think”, my mother spoke softly. The door sliding open startled me and traced me back to the real world. The friendly hand of my pediatrician shook mine.
“How have you been,” he spoke loudly.
“Fine, I guess.” I responded with delay. He reviewed my symptoms thoroughly. My mom taking up the whole conversation about the past few weeks. Her hand gestures made it seem like she was in a dramatic movie scene. The doctor spoke quietly to himself for two or three moments. Then, I was asked to get up on the table. My stomach began being pushed down on rigorously, throat was next, feet were after. A few mumbles and he was finished. I was then motioned to my seat. My feet swung back in forth in anxiousness. I felt a warm clench of my mom’s hand on mine. A gentle smile was returned. Clicking from his keyboard intensified my feelings of desperation and despair-that was not the worst to come.
The next few moments happened in a blur. My mom said to the doctor two letters, DI. A quick nod was sent across the room. “D.I. … that spells die. Oh no, this can’t be happening.” This devastated me. My heart sank as soon as I saw my doctor’s nod. I began to cry immediately, as did my mother. Little did I know: D.I. did not mean I was going to die. It simply meant I had Type One Diabetes. Once I realized I was not going to die, I brought myself back together. “I’m so dumb. This is so embarrassing”. I did not know what D.I.meant; being five years old. The doctor explained to my mom while I sat in silence. We were told to go to the hospital so trained professionals could teach me and my mom about this. It wasn’t going to be that bad after all.
This shocking news changed my life forever. I would have a whole new responsibility in my life. It is similar to carrying something around with me 24/7. I now have to poke my finger and put insulin into my pump everytime I eat. My life was never the same after this doctors appointment. Simply two letters put my life into a new routine. Two letters made me believe I was going to die. I later learned that if I hadn’t gone to the doctors as soon as I did, things could have ended badly. We spent lots of time learning and practicing how to take care of myself properly. This disease showed me to be more responsible and has shaped me to be who I am. After all these memories I have had, that moment is the most vivid one to this day. Now, after having it for almost eight years, I can’t imagine my life without diabetes.