Total Pageviews

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

D-Blog Week 2013: Memories.

On an unrelated note, today's baseball game was the BEST. I got 3 (!) hits (my 2nd, 3rd, and 4th hits of the season), we WON, I got to play 3rd base (I screwed up a couple things, but everyone makes mistakes), I got to see three of my sparks, one of whom stayed to watch part of my game (that meant a LOT, M. Thanks. <3), and I felt really accepted into the team today. (I'm the new girl, so that's important to me.) :)

Today's topic: Today we’re going to share our most memorable diabetes day. You can take this anywhere.... your or your loved one's diagnosis, a bad low, a bad high, a big success, any day that you’d like to share.

Since everything about diabetes is a mix of good and bad, I have a good memory and a bad memory. Let's get the bad one over with.

It's close to Christmas vacation, 2009. I've had diabetes for about two months. I'm at the point where I'm giving my own needles, but I'm still calling my mum every lunchtime to make sure I'm doing it right. This lunchtime starts late - I think we were on a fieldtrip or something - and since our teacher had to go be a lunchtime supervisor, he entrusts us to the next-door teacher (who turned out, the next year, to be the greatest teacher ever). We have about two minutes until the go-outside lunch bell rings - NOT long enough to bolus and eat in a relaxed manner. I'm just getting my needles out when the bell rings. Mme. A (the next-door teacher) comes in and sends us outside. I explain that I HAVE to eat because I have diabetes (blahblah) and that I haven't eaten yet, etc. She sends me into her classroom (which is full of unfamiliar people). Stressed, I [try to] be calm, sit down as far away from everyone else as I can, and I sort out my needle. I'm doing it in my left thigh today - somewhere that usually doesn't go well. Of course, people notice that I'm stabbing myself with a needle, and some of them start to freak out. As soon as I pull the needle out, blood starts spurting out. Of course. (Okay, not really. There was about a finger-poke-sized splotch, followed by a rather large black bruise. :( ) I start crying, people are freaking out, an unfamiliar teacher is trying to help me...It was not fun. I was okay, though. And the nice thing was, when we came for PT interviews a few weeks later, Mme. A came and talked to us to make sure I was okay. That was great. :)

So, that wasn't fun. But there are some good memories...

After four hours of early-morning travel, we get to the Horshoe Bay terminal. I'm really nervous about this, but excited, too. It's my first year of diabetes camp, and I'm not sure how it's going to go. We find my cabin group, and as soon as I step into the circle I have friends. Everyone's the same (except H - you non-diabetic. XD), everyone understands, and it's the first time I've ever felt so accepted so fast. I can't even explain how great it was. The whole week was awesome. These posts explain it pretty well: There's this one and this one and this one and this is pretty much all of them.
Camp is my favourite diabetes memory. Memories of it make the bad days better, and the good days great. The people I met there are some of the greatest people I've ever met, and the things I got to do and see and experience there make diabetes easier every day.
THAT is the best thing about diabetes. They are the best diabetes memories.

No comments:

Post a Comment