Diabetic_Stories

"Awareness, Support, Education, Cure"

Will you join us in the fight for a good cause?

Apr 2, 2009
Gabbie's Story . . . A 10 year old big Sister

My Tropicana Speech: A Life with Diabetes

Can you imagine... having to get a shot every time you eat, because the food you need to live can also kill you? Can you imagine... sticking a needle in
your finger 10 times a day, to test your blood? Can you imagine... waking up in the middle of every night to make sure you don't go into a coma? My 7
year old sister, Bella, can. She has Juvenile diabetes.

Bella was diagnosed in September of 2004. She wasn't yet 3 years old. We thought she had the flu, but it was much, much worse. She would not eat
anything. She was so skinny that her ribs were showing. She was sleeping more and more. Then one morning she would not wake up. Little did we know
she was nearly in a coma. She was rushed to the hospital, in the middle of Hurricane Charley.

A week later, Bella came home from the hospital. Our family's life had changed, but Bella's life changed much more. She got insulin shots for what she
ate. Her blood sugar had to be tested constantly. She was tested in the middle of the night to make sure her blood sugar did not drop too low, otherwise
she could go into a coma. Bella learned that a blood sugar above 200 was bad, before she could count to ten. It made me sad to see my little sister cry
from all the shots and all the blood tests.

My mom and dad learned as much as they could about juvenile diabetes. Juvenile diabetes is a disease that stops the pancreas from making insulin, so it
cannot control blood sugar. Too much sugar in the blood can damage nerves, which can lead to blindness and eventually death. For this reason, people
with Juvenile Diabetes must take insulin to stay alive. Research is being done all over the world to find a cure. In early March, President Obama allowed
stem cell research to help find cures for diseases like juvenile diabetes. This is the best chance for people with Juvenile Diabetes.

Everyday I wish for a cure for my little sister. Strangely, she does not. She thinks about being a princess, or a singer or dancer. She loves watching
SpongeBob. She has lived with diabetes so long that it is a normal part of her life. She can test herself by sticking a needle in her finger. She can figure
out how much insulin she needs for the food she eats. She can give herself the insulin she needs to live. To Bella, these are only small interruptions to
having fun and being seven years old. To me, she is very brave.

Can you imagine... a seven year old being your hero. I can. It is my little sister Bella.

Mar 23, 2009
Tisherbug's Story

My diabetic story.......hmmm... dealt with it my whole life. Growing up, my father (who also happens to be a Type 1) had major diffculties-we knew exactly
what to do when dad was low. My brother and I were tested all the time. When I hit my twenties, I thought I was in the clear. Fast forward a few years later.
I was eating like a mad woman, drinking an unreal amount of beverages (I would down a 12 pack of diet Dr. Pepper in less than 30 minutes) I had horrible
night sweats and the exhaustion....can't put it into words. I'd wake up crying. The point where I was determined to go to the doctor is when I found myself
spacing off several times throughout the day. I'd sit at stop signs forever.......the final incident is when I attend a meeting at work and didn't realize why I
was there, who are these people? What are their names? I called the doc thinking it was something else, but requested a blood test, just in case. Low and
behold I had my blood test and turned out I am diabetic. It's only been a little over a year, but I am doing pretty well!

Mar 23, 2009
Mikki's Story

My diabetic story... My father was type 1, so I grew up knowing something about it. I was diagnosed at 10 years old, and we tried to control it with diet. I
went from being a very chubby child to very skinny, because I was barely eating. They finally realized that diet was not going to help, and put me on shots.
Although my father had diabetes all my life, and our family dealt with the disease, my father was rather distrusting of doctors. I hardly went to doctors or
tested my sugar.

When I was 18, my father passed away from heart disease caused by the diabetes. I married less than 2 months after his death, and was pregnant a
month later. The doctors were amazed at the way I had controlled my diabetes for so long. I had taken 40 L every day since I was about 11. That was the
way my dad did it, and taught me. They changed my insulin and the way I managed my sugar- I started testing my sugars and trying to manage it better,
but I could not keep it under control enough. My baby was still born at 6 months due to ketoacidosis. I almost died as well.

So I had lost my father and baby within 8 months of each other due to diabetes. It broke my heart and I tried to change a lot of things after that. I was
pregnant again and we were VERY strict on how I managed my sugar levels. We actually kept them a bit too low, and I and the child were in danger from
an extreme sugar low. We both made it through- and my daughter was born. She had some complications, but came home healthy!

Then, 2 months later I was pregnant again! This time was even a bit more risky, because my body had just went through a pregnancy- which of course is
hard on type 1 diabetics. We watched the pregnancy very closely and baby and mom were okay once more. She was born with even more complications
than my first daughter though, and the doctors gave her a 50/50 chance of pulling through.

For a parent to hear that is heartbreaking, but here we are almost 11 years later with 2 beautiful daughters. Within the last 2 years, I have gone from
taking 2-4 shots a day to being on the pump. This is a wonderful medical advancement for me. I am better managed than I ever have been, and test my
sugars regularly. Although I could always improve, I have made big steps in taking care of myself. Now we keep close watch on our daughters for signs of
the disease. There have been some symptoms in my youngest, which we are keeping a very close eye on.

I pray she does not have it, but I know that if she does- we have much more knowledge than they did in the days when I was diagnosed. Of course I will
continue to hope for that cure, but for now we live the best we can and try to keep things in control. Although this disease has taken a lot from my family, I
have hope for a brighter future for my children and those affected by diabetes. :)

Feb 4, 2009
Shawn #2's story

Obla Di Obla Da Life Goes On January 18, 2005, was an ordinary day at my job at the Red Roof Inn in Plano, Texas, a 45- minute drive from my house in
Irving. The front desk contacted me and said I had a phone call. Thinking it was my girlfriend Rebecca wanting to know what we were going to do for
dinner, it was quite a shock when I picked up the phone and heard the sheer panic in her voice. Her son Fletcher had fainted at day care and was in the
emergency room at Baylor Medical Center.

He had been feeling bad, but we chalked it up to a cold or mild flu. I told her not to worry and started the long trek to the hospital. All the way there my
mind was full of what ifs and maybes. Driving as fast as I dared without being unsafe, I made good time, parked, and ran in through the glass doors.
Heading straight to the nurse's desk, I asked what room Fletcher Fields was in, and found it post haste. Rebecca, his mother grabbed me and said "They
don't know what's wrong with him." Some tests had been taken and we were waiting for the results.

I could see the terror in her eyes, the look a mother gets when something is wrong with her child, and I was trying not to look panicked myself. Fletcher
was lying in one of those hospital beds with tubes running out his little body with a scared and pale demeanor. I went over and held his hand and told him"
It's going to be alright, the doctors and nurses will take good care of you." So then it became a waiting game, nurses coming and going, wanting various
fluids for more tests. We sat there in that cold and sterile room and tried to pretend everything was fine.

I remember the flicker of the television in the semi- dark room. He had been there since three o'clock when I arrived at five, but it wasn't till about eight-
thirty that we were told of his prognosis. It wasn't good. They told us he might have diabetes. His blood sugar was way higher than it should be. We were
stunned. The doctor said he was to be transferred to Children's Medical Center. We were informed that Care Flight would be transporting Fletcher to
Children's Medical Center.

The EMT'S arrived and started getting him ready for his trip. They were very nice and made jokes to ease the tension that was emanating from us all. As
they wheeled him out to ambulance, I hugged him and his mother and waved as they took off. All this time, his father who lived in Odessa, was probably
breaking many traffic laws to get there as soon as he gotten the news. I took Rebecca's car and drove to Children's. When I got to the hospital, his mother
and father were on either side of the bed, and I joined them. It wasn't long before we got the bad news: he had Type 1 Juvenile Diabetes. Needless to say,
we were devastated.

As stunning as it was, we had to stay strong for Fletcher. Since none of us knew anything about diabetes, we had to take classes on how to feed him and
how to administer the insulin, while Fletcher had to learn how to Prick his fingers to test his blood sugar. I had the honor of giving him his first injection. He
stayed in the hospital for three nights and a day. When we got him home, we were like scientists trying to make his first meal. We were so scared that we
were going to make mistakes; we were constantly on the phone with Dr. Odin, who is also a type 1 diabetic so he knew where we were coming from. All
our lives changed that night.

We learned to count carbohydrates; he had to have just the right amount for his meals. I found out that Type 1 Juvenile Diabetes is caused when the
pancreas no longer produces glucose. At first we couldn't believe that he really had it, and Fletcher was in denial also. Oh how he hated taking the insulin
shots, and having to prick his fingers. But day by day we started to get used to the routine and so did he. It was only two or three weeks later that he
started to inject.

At first we couldn't believe that he really had it, and Fletcher was in denial also. Oh how he hated taking the insulin shots, and having to prick his fingers.
But day by day we started to get used to the routine and so did he. It was only two or three weeks later that he started to inject himself.

The courage of this eight year old boy changed my life and showed me no matter how things get, we all have in us the strength to carry on with our lives
with pride and dignity. Thanks to him, I was able to change some things in my own life. He has his good days and bad, but the way he goes at life, you
would never think anything was wrong. He plays football and baseball, is in the safety patrol program at his elementary school, and plays fall baseball,
and has joined the choir. Fletcher and I throw some football or baseballs around and sometimes throw down a little Play Station action. He's like the son I
never had. He is eleven years old now and starting to grow into a little man. He has shown me a love bigger than myself, and that's better than any
treasure on God's green earth.

Dec 2, 2008
Billy Jay’s Story!!

Recently, I had to fly out to Florida, to see my cousin Tonya because she had just lost her son. I was gone for three days and during this time I kept
hearing that my oldest child Billy, wasn't eating well. His aunt watched him while my husband was at work, so I figured that maybe he was missing us. But
for the next couple of days, I kept getting the same report.

Before you knew it my time in Florida was up and I flew home Sunday night, still thinking my son was just adjusting and was ok. That night Billy kept
complaining about how thirsty he was and he drank nearly a gallon of water, right before my eyes! He also referred to his violin as his best friend, which at
the time was his favorite instrument.

By Monday afternoon we were on our way to his doctor's office and on the way there he had a seizure. My 3 year old son lay damn near lifeless in my
arms and I have never felt so helpless in my life.

Once I got him into the doctors office they started working on him right away and they called an ambulance which was there with in 10 minutes. When we
got to the hospital he was x-rayed to make sure all was well and thankfully, it was.

When the doctor came in the second time it was a different story . . . 950 was his blood glucose! His Father and I will never forget looking at our baby and
not knowing how to take care of him anymore. Fortunately, we spent 3 days at Hasboro Children's Hospital and they taught us how to count carbs and
how to check sugars with a whole list of other duties. Even though we spent all that time in the hospital, we learned so much more from the Understanding
Diabetes Pink Panther book. A lot of the reason why we take such good care of our son is because of what we learned in that book.

He is 5 now and goes to school every day. We talk with his nurse twice a day and she tell us that he should be on an insulin pump within the next 3
months.

The goal now is to make sure he knows how to take care of himself. So we go over ingredients and measurements and talk about the food he puts into his
body, This way he knows why his sugars are the way they are.

I love my BIG little BoY.....
This is his story

Candy M

Nov 26, 2008
Christina’s Story: Café Magazine Chicago, IL

My cousin, Christopher, was diagnosed with type I diabetes when I was six years old, then known as juvenile diabetes. He was like a brother to me. We
went to school together, spent time at each other's houses, did the everyday kid stuff. Before he was diagnosed, he had all the symptoms of diabetes and
then some. He went to the hospital, and got everything figured out. Everything was better, now that he was better.

One day after school, I was at his house. He had a little gray machine that checked his blood sugar in 45 seconds. Remember, this was 1996. He looked
at me and said, "You want to try it?" I didn't know what I was doing and said yes.

The small lancet, or needle, in the pen-like instrument struck my finger to draw a droplet of blood; I jumped from the sting. I squeezed my index finger until
a juicy drop formed and placed it on the little white circle in the middle of the strip that was blinking pink from the machine.
Three, two, one, it counted down. It was too long ago to remember the exact number that appeared with a beep on the screen. Two hundred and forty
five, I think it was. My cousin looked at me with astonishment. It was too high. Together, we took the machine to my uncle Jesse. Then he called my mom.

From that point everything was a blur. I remember going to the doctor and having my finger pricked again; still high. I went once before school; "One
hundred eighty-eight," said the nurse; Still high. What did this mean?

From then on, every day I was poking my finger and writing down the numbers. One day, after seeing doctors and never being told what was going on, I
asked my mother, "Will I have to do this for the rest of my life?" She looked at me and said, "Yes."

That August, during a family function at our house, my mother disappeared. I found her in her bedroom lying down, crying. Why are you crying, mom?
She didn't answer me, but just hugged me. My aunt came in and said, "She's going to be fine. Everything's all right. Look at her, she's healthy." That's
when I knew it. Whatever Chris had, I had it, too.

I don't know how much later it was, but I ended up going to the hospital for three days when they put me on the insulin to make sure that my body wasn't
going to reject it. Yes, when you put something foreign in your body, it can get rejected. I was being treated (and still treat myself) with syringes and vials
of insulin. They monitored everything; my blood sugar, what I ate, how much of everything was going into my body.

After that, I had to tell my teachers at school what was going on, which eventually reached the kids and then their parents. For Halloween, instead of
candy, I got apples. The teacher had special sugar free candy for me when the others got treats. If my blood sugar dropped, I got to eat crackers and
drink pop. The kids got jealous.

The doctors were mean. That's what I remember. They yelled at me because my A1C was too high. They yelled at me if I had too much to eat. I went to
support groups in order to deal with it, but for me, there was never a problem.

"If someone has a problem with you having diabetes or is scared that they'll get it too, what do you say?" asked the doctor that led the discussion. "I would
just tell them that they can't get it and it's something that I have to live with. If they don't like me, it's not my problem." That was my mentality at eight, or
was I nine? Anyway, I just remember the doctor looking at me, impressed with my mentality.

From that point on, I accepted every question I got from people because education is the cure to ignorance. Instead of those people thinking that I was
sickly, or have them feel sorry for me, I was going to tell them, make them more aware of what I was dealing with. Pity was and is the last thing I need.

In high school, I didn't want to worry about having a disease. I was normal. I was like everyone else. I didn't want to check myself; I didn't want to think of
the consequences because it was a drag on the life I had to live before me. At least I was still taking my insulin, right?

The doctors didn't get mad. I was steady and healthy for a long time, but steady at a higher than average A1C. I was at a steady eight, sometimes nine. A
normal A1C is a six. Then I started reading a bit more. In other words, I started scaring myself. What if I get a cardiovascular disease? What if I get my foot
amputated? What if I can't do certain things because of the limitations I have?

That's when I started working out more, checking myself more and making sure I was eating a little more like I should be.

Now, I still don't want to think that I have a problem, even though I take better care of myself. It's my issue to deal with and it's worthwhile to live a healthy
life than a scared one full of pain.

Now, in 2008 the glucose monitors give you a blood sugar number in five seconds, and dieting is a little less strict. There are insulin pumps that act like a
virtual pancreas and even the possibility of cell implants for the pancreas for everyone with Type 1 diabetes. Technology has come a long way.

At 23, the reality of it is more of the insurance situation. Will I make enough money to cover this on my own? Will they give me benefits that won't have me
suffering for the rest of my life? Will I always have the great doctors that my parents' insurance allowed me to have? That's the reality of it.

"Check and cover, check and cover," says my new doctor. She's the coolest. She tells me that she's the one that's going to figure out my problem, she's
going to help me. I don't have to know how to help myself, in the scientific sense of the situation. What I know is that I have to keep my blood sugar low,
my carbs at a minimum and myself as healthy as possible. I have to be prepared for what may or may not come in the future.

Either way, I still feel like a normal human being, able to fulfill my dreams, make it to the top of the magazine world and still be in control of my health and
happiness. To me, in the end, that's all that matters.

Christina E. Rodriguez
Café Magazine

Nov 26, 2008
Will’s Story!!!

I am a mother of a 4yr old boy (Will) who was diagnosed 1/17/2008 with type 1 diabetes at the age of 3. It all started with frequent urination at night and
Will telling me that he felt shaky. Luckily, I went with my motherly instincts and brought him in right away and was told that Will indeed has Type 1 diabetes.
The worst part about his hospital stay was when we had to give Will his first shot. We literally had to hold him down because he was kicking and screaming
trying to fight the needle. The look in his eyes will stay with me forever. He kept saying "no mommy, don't poke me; just put the medicine in my mouth! I
promise I will be a good boy!" I wish it was that easy. It terrified me as a mother to look at your little boy and know that he is thinking "why are you hurting
me?" When in reality you're trying to save him. No mother should ever have to go through that. That will stay with me forever!

Will has come a long way since then. He is starting to give himself his own shots and is very proud of himself when he is done. We are told by his doctors
that at least he was diagnosed at a young age and will know no other way of life. I think about the children that are diagnosed in their teens and can't
imagine how hard it must be for them to learn a whole new way of life with different eating habits and to self administer shots.

Spreading the word about Type 1 diabetes if very important to me and my family! It angers me when people say "oh well Will just takes a pill for that,
right?" or "Type 1? That's something he'll eventually grow out of?" It blows my mind that people just are not educated at all about the disease. It's also
very hard to have a young child who needs care day in and day out to regulate his body and still hold a job. People are very reluctant to watch or care for
a child with Type 1 thinking that they don't want to be responsible if anything happens while they are in their care. I don't blame them, but as a mother you
just want your child to live the most normal life as possible. Right now we live in a town with a population of 150 and hope to be moving within the next
couple of years to a bigger city. I would love to open up a diabetic daycare for children with Type 1. At least parents can provide for their family while
knowing their child is getting the best care for their special needs.

Nov 13, 2008
Brenna’s Story

My name is Brenna and i am from Portland, Oregon. I was diagnosed when i was 10 and am almost sixteen now. Like most of us i got really sick, went to
the hospital and had my life transformed forever. But, my story is more about what happened after i was diagnosed. See, i had just switched schools and
no one really knew me, so of course i expected to have some problems with other kids, but i had no idea how bad it would get. As most little kids do,
some girl decided to tell everyone that i was "contagious" and if they even touched me they would die, stupid, right? But they believed it, and i was an
outcast all the way through 8th grade. Even after explaining to everyone that i wasn't contagious at all, and was perfectly fine, people still didn't like me.
They didn't want to deal with the diseased kid. When i got to high school i thought it would all get better, and it did with other kids, but i was on the drum
line and my instructors didn't want to understand. They punished me for being low, talked about me to the other students. One instructor was constantly
trying to convince me to quit. He would argue with me about being low and that it "wasn't a big deal." i tried to hang in there, but last year i had to quit. i
had tried so hard to prove i wasn't different, and yet had to accept that i was. And that the drum line wasn't a good environment for me. This year though,
all has gotten better. My friends are supportive and teachers are learning to just let me do what i need to do. i think that the moral of the story is that we
need to educate people about diabetes, because they truly just don't understand. And to all you other diabetics out there, keep going, just one day at a
time. And remember, don't be afraid to ask for help. We all need it. :)