Never Again

I was diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic in the summer of 2013. It nearly took my life. Doctors said had I been brought in 1-2 hours later, it would have been fatal. In the first few years I struggled to grasp my new way of life, battling a combination of denial and depression. Needless to say I had quite a few pitfalls because of this. I didn't value my life enough to take my disease seriously, and it nearly cost me everything. In the first 4 years I experienced countless seizures, several instances of being incredibly sick, having absolutely no drive to do or accomplish anything. As I said, I just didn't care. It was also very difficult to understand just how badly diabetes could affect me overall. It didn't run in my family, so it was completely new to me. And for the longest time, because though I had heard of the side effects of improperly caring for myself, I had never actually experienced or seen any hard enough evidence to believe anything bad could actually happen. Until the fall of 2017. I had caught a viral infection that had gone through my entire family, me being the last one to catch it. After weeks of all of us being ill, everyone's symptoms were starting to fade. So I thought I would soon be better. A few days after Thanksgiving, still feeling a little under the weather. I went to bed. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, feeling a feeding tube being removed from my throat. I couldn't speak, it hurt to move, breathing was a struggle and my chest had felt like it had been bashed in by a sledge hammer. Those pains were the result of having to be resuscitated.

When I was finally lucid enough to understand what was going on, the doctors and my mom explained to me the events that took place from the time I went to bed that night to when I had just woken up moments before. I had been in a coma, it was a result of the viral infection causing my blood sugar levels to rise to such extremes that my heart had actually given up. Twice. Once in my bed and once on the way to the hospital. They called it DKA, Diabetic Ketoacidosis. The whole ordeal put my poor family through hell. The doctors gave them many prognoses while I was in my comatose state. "Get ready to live your lives here, we don't know when, if at all, she'll wake up.", "You should probably start calling family and friends to come say their goodbyes.", "There's a good chance she will be brain dead." All my family could do was wait.

I got very lucky. Waking up after a week and a half, with very minimal damage other than the obvious physical discomforts. It did take me a few years to get my brain to work at the intellectual level it had once been at. It's still not fully up to what it's capable of just yet, but I remain hopeful, and grateful the damage wasn't much worse. Since that incident, I have had nothing but troubles with ketone levels as they pertain to my diabetes. Miraculously however, just 8 months after almost dying, I got pregnant with my son. Something that doctors had informed me, years before, might never happen for me. Diabetes and pregnancy is a tough enough process, and made especially more difficult when you're at the poor level of health that I was at. And despite all that could go wrong, I overcame the odds once more and gave birth to a happy, healthy child with almost no complications.

About 14 months after having my son, I was hit once more by mental health struggles. Officially diagnosed as bi-polar with borderline personality disorder, and a couple of other ‘fun’ little extra disorders on the side. What prompted me to finally seek out the help I didn't know I needed? Becoming so extremely sick, again. But not from improper diabetes management, for the most part anyways. No, it was from mental exhaustion and stress. Something I knew could affect my sugar levels, but had no clue it could bring ketones up enough to put me into DKA again. So to clarify, improper diabetes management, getting sick; even something as simple as the common cold(yes, I've gone in for treatment for high ketones because of a cold), having any type of mental stress, including getting a little too excited, or happy, or sad or angry. Basically any emotion at an extreme level. Can all put you at risk for DKA. And as someone who's battled with mental illness for the better part of 14 years, and then finding out I was bi-polar with BPD, generalized anxiety and panic attacks; all of which greatly affect or have ties to emotional stability issues, emotional control issues, etc. You can imagine how impossible it starts to seem when there's an endless cycle of diabetes-affects emotions, leads to panic attacks. Too many emotions-affects diabetes, leads to panic attacks. And obviously panic attacks will always lead to more diabetes complications AND more mental health complications.

Though I didn't really care before. Though I was too ignorant and tired of living with what seemed like so many unfair limitations. Though I didn't seem to notice how badly it was affecting my family. Them having to see me constantly in a state of barely alive and never happy. Having to see me slowly killing myself. Having it almost happen. I knew I had to make a change. I eventually made it out of that dark place. Finally started aiming towards bettering myself. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It's been a long and exhausting journey, and I'll admit that sometimes the dark place tries to overtake me from time to time. It's hard to keep myself from falling in. Really hard. But having found the will to live again, finally knowing that I have that strength in me. Is what helps me in those times of strife. The will I never would have found, had it not been for my family. They've always been by my side, despite all the pain I've caused them. And had it not been for my son. He re-ignited a light in me, that I thought had burnt out for good so long ago that I can't even remember if it was ever even there. All the people in my life never gave up on me. Because of them, their love, their support, their refusal to give up on me. I've beaten the odds enough times to know that I can't give up. I refuse to give up. Never again.