The following two days in the hospital were a whirlwind. Nurses came in at all hours to check my blood sugar, I desperately wanted a shower and to brush my teeth (couldn't shower cuz I was still in ICU, but they gave me a toothbrush and paste), and my friends and family came to visit.
The first visitor I remember was Jennifer's pastor. She had called him after she and Trey admitted me. He came in the room, introduced himself to my parents and me, and prayed with us. My mom had tears in her eyes after he was done. Later on that day my boss and her husband came by. They came in my room briefly before a nurse came in and told me they needed to wait in the waiting area while she checked on me. They wanted me to get up and try to walk a little. So, my mom, me and my pee bag on a pole walked around the ICU lobby area. Trey had come by after he got off work. I walked into the waiting area with my parents, boyfriend, boss, her husband, and my pee bag. Trey had gotten me a Get Well card that was "signed" (read: he listed names) by everyone in his family including Phil, his fish. (Note: Phil died shortly after I got out of the hospital. I think the stress was too much for him to handle.)
He held me in his arms, and I told him I was sorry. "Why?" he asked. "That you had to go through this," I said with tears streaming down my face. If anybody had the worst role to play in this diagnosis show, it was Trey. I can't imagine the roles being reversed and having to carry him to the hospital. I wouldn't have been able to handle it. He is so much stronger than I am. I was out of it for most of the dramatic parts, but he was there when I was at my worst. I've only ever seen the good and the bad; he's seen the ugly of diabetes.
I finally got to eat the next day at lunch and was introduced to Diet Mountain Dew. I remember the nurse telling me "Your blood sugar is below 350! We can give you a different IV bag." More testing, more sleeping, more Spongebob. I was happy to finally get to eat, but my throat was so swollen from vomiting and dry heaving that all I could do was drink and eat small bites.
The next day was more or roughly the same. I attempted to study for my dynamics final that I missed, but my eyesight was still fuzzy. I talked to a few people who found out I was in the hospital: my brother, my supervisor, a few friends from school. I was able to eat a little bit more. More walking, more testing, more sleeping, more Spongebob.
The next morning during my breakfast, my endocrinologist came in and asked me if I wanted to go home. "Please?!" I squealed. He said I would have to go immediately to a diabetes class to learn how to test and give myself shots. My mom came later with some clothes for me to wear out of the hospital, and some baby powder for my hair since I hadn't bathed in 3 days. We picked up all my insulin and syringes at my closest pharmacy and head to the class. One thing I was really grateful for at the class was that the CDE talked to me. So far a lot of conversations had been towards my parents, "She's going to . . . She will have to . . ." The CDE sat me in a chair right next to her, and we practiced giving a bean bag ball a shot of insulin. I learned about carbs and testing and lancets and hypos. Finally, I got to go home.
My mom dropped me off and let me shower while she went and got dinner for us that night. I took about 2 showers worth of shampoo and soap, and just enjoyed being back in my apartment. After I got dressed and came out, Trey was sitting at my computer desk. Mom was in the kitchen making dinner, so we finally got a chance to be alone after this whole adventure. I remember sitting in his lap and just hugging him. This was by far the biggest thing I had ever gone through with a guy. He was my hero.
Fast forward: I go home for Christmas and immediately went into "hiding" mode. "I don't want to be known as the diabetic girl," I told my family on Christmas Eve. That was the first year I didn't get Snickers in my stocking. Seriously, Santa?! I know carb counting! I visit Trey's family for a few days after Christmas and go back to north Alabama and attempt to start my new life. I graduate with my bachelor's degree, spend the summer as a camp counselor, start graduate school, and on October 29, 2007 I meet Arnold . . .
DISCLAIMER: I am not a doctor, nurse, certified diabetes educator (CDE) or any medical professional of any kind. (But I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express!) Therefore, please do not use any of my postings as medical fact. I am simply a blogger expressing my highs and lows (pun intended) with diabetes. For changes in your medication, exercise regiment, or diet please consult a qualified physician.