I don’t remember being diagnosed and I’ve never been good at the “what’s your first memory” thing – I’m sure what I think are my first memories are actually just stories I’ve been told by friends and family enough times that I’ve absorbed them into my brain via osmosis.
However, as the broken pancreas has been a ;
Since being diagnosed at the age of 28 I’ve never been sick on a doctor. This is something I aim to remedy as soon as possible.
Being diagnosed back in 1984 at the ripe ole age of 5, I was the first and only diabetic kid in my school district for most of my years. This presented some fun and interesting challenges for all, like what happens when a KWD swings at a first grade teacher and clobbers her in the face while having a Low – discipline or no? Good times, back in the 80s…
I’ve never been sick on a Dr either. I was 4 at diagnosis. 32 years later, you’d have thought I’d have managed it, but no.
I do actually remember the Dr coming round our house to tell my Mum I had to go into hiospital because he thought I had diabetes. My Mum doesn’t remember this, so I’m fairly sure it’s a real memory.
How about my first punishment for a diabetes related occurrence – in a particularly tedious lesson at about the age of 8 I blew up and popped loudly the plastic bag that had held my emergency chocolate supplies (which my friends had all just eaten – a fairly regular happening). Spent the rest of the lesson (15 mins I think) in the corner sniggering at the (useless) teacher.
While we’re sicking along so merrily, the first time I was hospitalised for hypoglycaemia (1999), I unfortunately missed the doctor and parked it all in the parking area. My first hyperglycaemic hospitalisation (post-diagnosis) followed in 2004 after another session of hypo-heaves (thanks to Protaphane), which lasted all day (the heaves, not the Protaphane) and ended with me hyper-heaving nicely into one of those kidney-shaped basins in hospital for my 10 yr D-reunion. Leaving all that retchedness behind, my first and only hospitalisation for diabetic complications was in 1995, when my foggy lenses were sucked out with an ocular vacuum cleaner (leading to a first clear peek in the mirror and the search for a really robust chin-hair weed-eater)
Just for the doctor’s sake, was there a second time?
There have been plenty more incidents involving vomit, but I’m pretty sure that’s the only time where the Dr was the recipent. Sorry to disappoint!
Being a T2 really sucks… I’ve missed so much fun! 😉
Are you a masochist 2? 😉
Pmsl! 😉