There was nothing that I hated more than getting blood work done. I was even scared of the little finger pinch. So on the day my mother took me to my pediatrician unexpectedly, I was particularly nervous about being tested. I sat in the big chair with my eyes closed waiting for it to happen. When the nurse told me that it was over and I could open my eyes I was so relieved. I thought it was over, but little did I know that it was just the beginning.
After I had my blood work done I quietly sat in the doctor’s office and patiently waited for the results so that I could finally leave the doctor’s office. After a few minutes the doctor came into the room with a very serious face. It seemed like the words he were about to say were trapped in his mouth and he couldn’t get them out. “You have diabetes”, he told me. I didn’t think much of it at first. As a seven year old, the word diabetes was foreign to me. I had no idea what it was or what it meant. All I knew was that whatever diabetes was, I had it. I then asked what medicine I would have to take to get better and how long I would get to stay out of school. That’s when the doctor told me what diabetes was. I only started crying when I realized it was a permanent condition.
What happened after that conversation was all a blur to me. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the emergency room and was admitted into the hospital five days before Christmas. I asked the nurse who was taking care of me so many questions in trying to understand exactly what was happening. I was so scared of being in the hospital that asking questions seemed to be the only thing that made me feel better. After I had all my blood work done and I was admitted to the hospital, I was taken up to the hospital room where I was going to be staying. It was when the nurse took me up to this room that I asked again when I would be going home.
“One more day”, she said. Unfortunately, “one more day” turned into six days and I spent Christmas in the hospital that year.
After I was finally let out of the hospital and Christmas break was over, it was time to return to school. I was worried about what my friends and classmates would think of me and how my teachers would treat me. I felt like the only person in the world with the disease. I never thought there was anyone I could relate to who would ever understand what I was going through or what I had. Unfortunately my fears were realized and my second grade classmates shunned me as lepers were shunned back in ancient times. They thought I was highly contagious, and not to mention the fact they just thought I was “weird”. They didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore and they didn’t understand that I was the same person I was before the diagnosis.
When I went to my first follow up diabetes appointment after the diagnosis, I was introduced to my new doctor. To my surprise, she was a type one diabetic just like me. This information shocked me and excited me because I knew that I wasn’t alone anymore. I knew that there was at least one person that could understand. This was also the day that I decided what I wanted to do when I grew up. I decided that I wanted to be a pediatric endocrinologist just like my new doctor. I wanted to be able to help newly diagnosed type one diabetics just like me, and I wanted them to know that they aren’t alone.
Ever since that day, almost eleven years ago now, I still haven’t lost sight of that promise. I never changed my mind as to what I wanted to be when I grew up. It’s a promise I made not only to myself, but also to all the newly diagnosed type one diabetics that may come my way someday to be treated and hopefully even cured by that time. Today, I am entering my second year of college as a biology major and am loving every minute of it. I feel like every day I get closer to my goal of going to medical school and becoming a doctor. I may still have about seven or eight years of school and hard work left, but I know that it will all be worth it in the end.