Monday, November 25, 2013

diabetes emotional timeline.

My thoughts at each event.


streaming out his mouth
you were crying and i was still
lost in his words
lost in it all
you both spoke
made plans with your words
but i didn't know
what language you were speaking
all a blur
you were crying
i was still
i remember it all
my ears did not register your sounds
my eyes could not register the scene
it happened and i didn't know how
still in the front seat
no words

i can't wait to stop getting all these needles

honey, this is forever


Mexico. We got to the hotel, dropped our bags in the room, and ran down to look at the pool. We hadn’t been at the hotel for an hour yet when I decided to go back up to the room to put my bikini on. I walked into the room, and something happens. All of a sudden my blood sugar feels low, so I walk to my mom’s purse and eat a granola bar.

Still low.
I eat another.
Still low.

I can feel that I’m very low; too low. I walk towards the mini bar. I remember thinking “It’s $5 but mom won’t care."

And then nothing. Blackness. 

I wake up to my moms voice. She was screaming, I didn’t understand what she was saying. 


“what mom, no I’m fine, stop yelling, whats going on?” 


“Liv, Liv your having a seizure. Look at me, drink this.” 

Who is this blond lady holding my other arm? Why are there people in the door? “No, mom, I’m fine. Whats going on? Mom I’m ok.” 


“Liv, I’m giving you glucagon now.” I watch her stab my thigh with that huge emergency needle. I don’t feel it though. “Sweetie, don’t move, listen to your mom.” Who is this blond lady? 

“Liv, your bleeding, what happened?”
“What no mom I’m not.....

.......what’s happening to me?” 


I had a seizure. A bad one. I was unconscious when my mom found me. I had fallen into the wall and cut up my face, there was blood everywhere, dripping down my head, coating my clothes. It happened so fast, I kept going unconscious. 

I’ve never been so terrified in my life. 

When I finally came to, around 8 at night, 9 hours after the seizure, I said to my mom, “... I wish I could see the ocean.”
“liv, you have seen it, you were in it.”
”... did I like it?”

I dont remember anything in the hour or so before the seizure..
I remember going low in the room, but nothing before.
I remember my moms voice, her eyes.
In my semi conscious haze, I remember seeing her crying, yelling down the sunny hallway with all the palm trees.
I was so scared.

I'm still so scared.


Yesterday, I got my insulin pump. I don't think I’ll ever forget that car ride to the hospital. My mom had run into the store after picking me up from school to get some water. The box with the pump was in the backseat. I opened it for the first time since it came in the mail a month ago. And I held it. I followed its lines with my finger and memorized how it felt. And I cried. I cried for what seemed like forever. And I kept crying when my mom came back. Tears and mascara stained by cheeks. And I kept crying. And I yelled at my mom, I blamed her for making me get it. I still blame her.

Sure, it might help me with my control of this, which my dad says is the big picture. But they don’t think past that. This..thing.. is attached to me, I have a tube inserted into my stomach that the insulin is pumped through. That means I can’t run away. Ever. With the needles, I could leave them in the other room, I could forget just for a second. I could move freely, I could be free. But the pump, I’m attached to it. I can’t ever get away from it. Something about being attached to it makes my stomach turn and my head spin and my heart feel sad. Sad. That’s what it makes me. Sad. There’s no running from it now, no retreating into the back of my mind where I’m a normal teenager and none of this exists. Because it’ll always be there. Me and this, this, thing, will be attached at the hip. Literally.

You know I don’t feel pretty with this. I don’t feel womanly or cute or like I can do anything. I feel like a monster. A robot. I know this is so shallow, my health is more important, but I won’t stand here and lie and say my health is the only thing I think about. I think about, how I'll wear a skirt, or a dress, or a bikini. How will boys react? Will it give me a weird tan? I think about these things, and I can't help but cry. I love that I’m athletic, a runner, soccer player. I love my leg muscles that can power through anything, that push me off my track blocks at a million miles per hour.. Will this slow me down? Do people on insulin pumps win?

All I can say is, you don’t understand me. Fuck, you probably don’t understand half the things I’ve been going on about. But understand this: you’re the luckiest person in the world, because you have something that I want so bad. Something I don't remember ever having. Power. Power over your own body, a will that's your own. Fuck, I’m jealous.


I'm tired of this.

I had no choice in this
It just was
My only reward for all of my hard work is not dying any sooner
I make it look easy and so they think that it's easy
That I don't take it seriously
That it isn't the cause of every single thing I do
My mistakes are judged harshly and my victories go unnoticed
I over compensate to give myself a semblance of control
And I'm called greedy
And I am.
Greedy for freedom. Greedy for rest.
Fill my days with work and hobbies so that I'm so tired at bed time
I won't have time to think about it
So tired that maybe I won't have that nightmare
But I can't be so tired, what if something goes wrong?
What if no one finds me?
It'll be all my fault.
I'm the only one to blame
Guilt guilt guilt
Covered in blood
Where am I?
Who are they?
Why is every body screaming?
What's going on?
Wake up
Honey, this is forever
10 years
Count down to dialysis
Pretend it isn't happening
Pretend it isn't me
It's someone else
It couldn't be me, just look at me!
I'm on the right track!
I work hard and I laugh!
How could that patient be me?
It can't be me!
It is me
It's all my fault

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