If I had done though, it'd be true.
It happened at the worst time too. Except that's not true. It could have happened when I'd moved away to live in uni halls where I'd be all on my own, but that's in the future and we're in the present, when the diagnosis happened, and I've had my brilliant mother come over and help me with things, so that's been good.
It did happen at a really bad time though. Having just started a year long Art n' Design Foundation course, with an intensive initial six week Exploratory Stage with weekly rotation of different subjects and media, where a piece of work had to be finished within each sodding week goddamnit a week, and you were supposed to build up a portfolio as you went, getting diagnosed with diabetes half way through was (one dramatic ellipsis leading to an understatement belying ones actual feelings coming right up)... unhelpful.
I missed two weeks wherein I achieved no work, which isn't surprising, not knowing what to do n' all. And there was the issue of having to prong myself. With Sharp Things.
It isn't actually too bad. Sharp Thing #1 is the lancet in my bloodsugar testing kit. The worst thing about using that was accidentally slicing my thumb trying to pull the lil' plastic cap off from the pronger. I'm still wearing a plaster on that thumb. It's healing, slowly, and looking rather sorry for itself.
Sharp Thing #2 is actually two things, a set of things. Two pens, identical, one silver one blue, both with two different types of insulin which I have to take. The needles on each of them are four millimetres long, they barely ever even sting. It's just a weird little sensation where the skin of my stomach or thigh goes "Oh hey, there's a lil' needle in you." and the message travels to the brain who just goes "Oh yeah, how cute." and doesn't kick up a fuss about pain or anything. The worst part of it is accidentally stabbing my thumb trying to get the protective nib of the needle off.
The real stress of it at first was the thought that I'd never get to have desserts or sweet and sugary things ever again. Turns out I can though, so I reckon I'll be able to cope after all. In fact, I've actually got an incentive to eat chocolate.
See, this is what I've learnt. I used to produce a relatively normal amount of bloodsugar. I was relatively healthy. My body produced probably near enough the right amount of insulin to maintain the bloodsugar levels, cos' that's just how insulin rolls, maintainin' the bloodsugar, keepin' the balance, like a hard ass mofo. But then it just upped and left, letting my bloodsugar skyrocket, which is a Bad Thing. Symptoms of such Bad Thing include permanent, unquenchable, drinking-sand-cos'-it's-a-mirage thirst; extreme tiredness at too-early-for-bed time; peeing gallons; and for some reason having unpleasant fungal infections. Having suffered all of these, I took a trip to the doctors, had the pleasure of receiving a blood test, went over to my clinic which deals with my cystic fibrosis, had my bloodsugar tested on the spot by a diabetics nurse (who is now my nurse, I'm just one of 158 other patients she's looking after) and yeah, I was diagnosed pretty quickly when she read the results. Normal bloodsugar levels are between 6 and 7. My result then was 21.1.
So. Poo. Anyway. With me lacking the insulin I need to bring those levels down, I need to inject it externally. This happens, and I can eat food and not worry about my blood sugar levels bursting through the top of my head, which is called hyperglycemic, AKA hyper, AKA too much sugar in your blood system.
Foods which have high carbohydrate counts per gram will send my bloodsuger high, unless it's slow acting carbs, like in chocolate, in which case I don't need to worry about them. So, to the point, I can eat chocolate. Without injecting. Good.
However, I am now restricted strictly to sugar-free drinks. Pepsi do alright, actually. They know their sugar free drinks. Unlike Coke Zero. What it lacks in sugar it also lacks in taste. Buy Pepsi Max (I'm not being endorsed by Pepsi, I don't even know what Pepsi are, is it a taxi service?).
(Can you put punctuation inside a parenthesis and then have it on the outside again so you can complete your sentence, or is that wrong?)?
The next stress came not with having to jab myself, like I said it's not too bad and I'm pretty okay with it now, but the thought of having to keep doing it, for the rest of my life. As someone with cystic fibrosis, I know what it's like to do permanent treatment. But not involving needles. I've never had to do that. That's a daunting thing.
Until it becomes second nature because it's just a thing you have to do to keep healthy and it's better than staying in hospital or not being healthy. It was a daunting thing, and I'm really glad my mum had been through it all already so she could tell me all this. Well I'm not glad she got diabetes and had to go through all this. But it was really great that she was there.
So I took a couple of weeks off from the Foundation course, with me chillin' at home, eating chocolate, helping paint the house (jesus christ it was literally the worst time to paint the house dad, never mind me suddenly being all diabetic, I know it was half term holiday for you but you didn't expect to get it all done in a week did you?! Thanks for the supply of chocolate, btw), injecting insulin and checking my bloodsugar to see if it's lower than 10 yet (I'm sure you'll be glad to know that yes, now, it is).
Stress #3 came with going back to college, trying to start doing work and catching up and finishing off my sketchbook and portfolio for a hand-in deadline two weeks away holy shit cunt flaps whatthehelldoido?? Pro tip: Don't spend an entire week stressing over your work and then not getting it done. Also don't stress over print quality and then accidentally break the sodding printer, that's an absolute no-no. Also don't plan a morning out to buy things you need so you can spend the afternoon getting loadsa work done only to wake up already gone mid-day because your dad switched your alarm clock off when it was time to actually get you up (srsly dad, wth). Twice (double wth).
So. That hasn't been very positive. The deadline, in fact, was yesterday just gone, at the time of writing. I very nearly almost managed to finish, but then I ran out of A2 paper for my portfolio. And the whole two weeks off thing. But, and this is a but and a half, apparently I've done more work than some people who haven't been diagnosed with diabetes or anything half way through the course, so I don't know what their deal is. Then again, self deprecating is the Thing to Be these days, innit? If you're not feeling sorry for yourself, then you're just not cool enough. You have to meet a certain criteria if you want to be an outcast like the cool kids.
Speaking of self deprecation: sorry if this has been a rambling, unreadable mass of stuff from the pit of the arm of a really smelly and unpleasant person who hasn't showered in, like, ages, but that's what it's been and I feel like going to bed soon so that's how it'll stay.
Haha, I nearly ended this blog by writing "I have diabetes now. Diabetes is cool." It isn't. It's a bit of a pain in the arse. Forever.
...And that's how I joined the Diabetes Club! So remember kids, don't do diabetes! Goodbye!
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