I grew up in a household where diabetes was something dealt with everyday. Both my mother and my grandfather had diabetes. I never really understood what it meant or what was required of me when I had people in the house talking about it. I still remember days when my mother had insulin reactions and my dad running into the room with a special syringe to in order to help her become coherent once again. My story with diabetes doesn't come in the day before I was diagnosed. On March 2nd, 2000 after being dropped off at the local, I purchased a new CD to listen to at home. From there my friend and I went to Burger King since I was feeling very dehydrated and hungry. I ordered a large whopper combo meal and fill up my large cup with Dr. Pepper. After the meal I refilled and drank the large cup full of Dr. Pepper at least 3 times, maybe more. Also, bathroom breaks became more and more frequent. After this meal, I ran into my mother at the gas station and told her what had been happening. My mother, being a nurse and a diabetic, noticed that some of these were symptoms but had me go home and relax to see if that would help before jumping to any conclusions. That night I woke up every hour to use the bathroom and get a drink of whatever soda we had in the refrigerator at the time. In the morning, again I went to my mother and let her know what had happened that night. She checked my blood sugar, which was over 500. Both of my parents rushed me to the hospital where my blood sugar level obtain a new family record at 1081. My family doctor told me if we would of waited any longer there was a good possibility of me dying. I spent the rest of the day and some of the following day in ICU at the hospital. This also meant I would spend the beginning of my 13th birthday in the hospital. All of my family came and visited me while bringing my gifts for my birthday. Although it was a very sad day for me, it was also a very good day since I had many visitors. Today, 9 years later, I still try my best to keep my diabetes in control. My grandfather lost 2 toes and eventually lost his life to complications. My life isn't very much different except that I wear my pancreas in my pocket as an insulin pump. I have no regrets because I believe this disease has made me a stronger person.
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