Lifestyle and Health

LIFE IS TOO BEAUTIFUL..TO GO BLIND

The evening that I passed out turned out to be a blessing, the passing out triggered my parents to transfer me to a school nearer home. I had taken supper before my evening dose of insulin.  I started feeling weak, shaky and sweaty thirty minutes after the injection. I knew what it was; hypoglycemia.  I walked to the dormitories, for the sweets. The sweets, I was the only one allowed to have snacks in school, a diabetes perk, this made most of my classmates to envy me, and my diabetes (adolescence stupidity). You see all they used to think is that diabetes is a cool disease, a disease of rich kids whose fathers drive them in big cool cars to the hospitals for monthly check ups. They were adolescents thinking in terms of sweets and special diet and exception from manual work and cross country races. But they never saw the other side of it. They never saw the side of living on injections, or sitting on hospital benches outside a room written ‘diabetic clinic’ amidst old, fat, blind, single and double amputees. They didn’t know how diabetes is restrictive, in terms of what to eat; I can’t remember the taste of chocolate, my mother forbade me from ever taking that stuff, I disobeyed her only once and ended up in hospital for three days.
Our dormitory was quiet. People were still in class, evening preps. I walked to my cube. My box had been broken into. My stuff was strewn all over the floor and my sweets were missing. I passed out. I regained consciousness in the sick room. An IV set was connected to my left arm and some fluid was running down, to my veins and unto my heart (maybe). The nurse was seated at the corner looking at me.  She looked angry. Perhaps she had every right to be angry, except I didn’t ask for the diabetes… It was ten; probably she had just served her supper and had no time to eat. It was cold; perhaps she had had to disengage herself from her husband. Maybe she was thinking of her newborn child. She was angry but she had no right to be angry. The fluid continued running. My mind wandered, back to the dormitory, I thought about my broken box, and my missing sweets. A tear or two trickled down my face. I wiped it with the back of my hand. The nurse looked at me, and then spoke, “you had hypoglycemia”. I knew that, but I kept wondering why I had fainted, was it shock or hypoglycemia?
When you have diabetes, sometimes your sugars become too little, you become dizzy, you get diaphoresis, your heart beat goes over the roof, and then you pass out. Sometimes your sugars become too high, you become dry as a bone, you urinate as frequently as a baby, you vomit, and your stomach might also ache. In both cases, you end in the hospital, and fluid is pumped into your veins. This diabetes is a funny disease. I wonder why it chose me of all the people.  I wonder why it came to me too early, before I could eat enough cakes, and chocolates and fries and red meat and sugar, I wonder why it came before I was an adolescent, before I had tasted alcohol(just tasting), before I had schooled enough.
All the people I see in the clinic are old enough. They are mostly married with grown up children. Diabetes came to them after they had lived. These people are also fat and most have wrinkles. They seem okay and at peace, even the amputees, even the old man I saw in my last visit to the clinic was fine. He was laughing heartily; his companion (probably a grandson) had cracked a joke. His grandson was handsome by the way. He was just the way my dream man should be, tall enough, proportional head, oval face, no acne scars(since I have enough for both of us), smooth faced and a mildly haired chin, ooh and dark, he was also dark. He should have seen me, but he kept his gaze on the old man on his wheel chair and the urine bag on his laps. He kept his eyes on him and kept smiling at him as if he was a baby, being baby sat. I was annoyed; with him, but mostly with myself. I was annoyed of myself for looking like a nine year old while I am nineteen, a whole nine plus ten. I was annoyed that I have a pair of two flats on my chest than no one can rent. I was annoyed that my pelvis didn’t widen enough, and that I have no enough fat for deposition over my pelvic bones.
When I asked the doctor about my lack of contours and curvatures she smiled. I got annoyed, and only half heard her explanation about genes and the insulin and blah blah, this is a good looking man I had just lost and here she was smiling like a monkey eating a banana. I am a child, I deserve a normal life, but I have diabetes. I have type one diabetes; my doctor says my pancreas can’t produce enough insulin. So I live on insulin injection, everyday in the morning and evenings. I walk around with sweets because although I have a sugar disease, sometimes I don’t have sugar (ironical right?). I feed on organic food, it is nutritious but it is very boring to teenagers. I should live a relatively normal life, I am trying, and if people will stop feeling sorry for me, I might live long, long enough to be a mother( I pray that  a tall dark, round faced man looks at me twice and winks, I swear I will walk to him and give him my number. He will have to learn how to inject me with insulin first, then I will tell him why he should date me, I will not be like other girls, I will never crave chocolates or cakes or ice cream or milk shake, see? He will be rich because he will save ALL that money). I will live long enough and I will not become blind or be amputated, because I always check my feet, I also see an eye doctor regularly, I am doing my best, I got diabetes, I don’t want blindness and amputation and renal failure. Diabetes is enough for me.
PS; THIS DIABETES SHOULD HAVE WAITED TILL LATER. IT DIDN’T, I WONT GIVE UP, I WILL TAKE MY DRUGS, I WILL GO TO MY CLINICS, I WILL FOLLOW THE DOCTOR’S INSTRUCTIONS. I WILL LIVE; I WILL GO TO THE END OF MY LIFE WITH MY TWO FEET, MY SIGHT, AND MY KIDNEYS.
It is a diabetes day today……..to all the diabetics young and old, this battle is for fighting, life is too beautiful to live without eyes………………….

THE PEOPLE OF PARIS…….OUR PRAYERS ARE WITH.YOU……….WE HAVE BEEN HIT IN THE PAST WE KNOW HOW IT FEELS

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Doreen Saringi

Hey there, welcome. I am Dr. Oyunge. Books are my second love and writing is my third. Once I take off my white coat, I pick my pen.

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