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This is one of the contributions to:DIABETES ESSAY AND POEM COMPETITION 2010
Surrounded by doctors in the small treatment room, I knew that my life quite literally hung in the balance. As they struggled franticly to find a vein I lay motionless in a state of near coma. Like a car deprived of petrol my body was beginning to shut itself down. My breathing was shallow and a sickly sweet smell of acetone clung to the air. “If we don’t get this line in soon she is going to die.” proclaimed the doctor feverishly wiping his brow before desperately trying again with the needle. Already a young student doctor had left the room faltered by the prospect of losing his first patient. It was as though my life had become a ticking time bomb, every second that passed was critical and no one knew what fate lay in store.
I had been showing symptoms that I may be diabetic for several weeks, the constant lethargy, frequent trips to the bathroom, drinking like a fish. However to me and my family we had simply put it down to me feeling ‘a bit under the weather.’ As a young child I had always been a bit on the plump side and to see me gradually start to lose my puppy fat delighted us all. Little did we know that this newfound weight loss was my one way ticket to deadly ketoacidosis. My body was now in starvation mode. It couldn’t use glucose for energy instead it was burning up my fat reserves causing harmful ketone bodies to build up in my blood stream.
After many attempts and unbelievable perseverance at last the doctor managed to insert an IV into my wrist and another into my foot for rehydration. I could finally embark on the life saving insulin therapy that my body craved. After several days building my strength back up it wasn’t long until I was introduced to what a life living with diabetes was going to entail. Although at first daunted by the prospect of injecting four times a day and having to cut down on certain foods and sugary snacks I was completely independent from the onset. I was determined not to let this disease stop me from doing anything that I put my mind to. I felt so lucky to be alive that straight away I took everything on board. I would consistently do my blood tests; eat the right foods and exercise to keep my blood sugars under control. Yes I had diabetes, but why should I let it control me?
It was around the time I started secondary school that my mindset towards diabetes began to change. To me it had become an unjust punishment. I resented the fact that I was different. Being the only diabetic in school made me feel like an outcast and I would constantly compare myself to my fellow classmates. I would stare enviously at the other girls in my year content in themselves and feel so jealous. It wasn’t fair. What had I done wrong? They didn’t have to inject, they didn’t have this constant shadow hanging over them. Gradually as time passed my confidence and self esteem plummeted to an all time low. I tried to think back to the days before my diagnosis, I had been a bright bubbly ten year old with everything going for me, now I felt lonely, depressed and withdrawn. I would stare in the mirror and sigh, criticising every inch of my body from the size of my legs to the slightest hair out of place on my head. That’s when the thought suddenly came to me. At what point had I been most happy with myself? I contemplated for a while and remembered the rapid weight loss I’d undergone before my diagnosis. I thought back to all the positive comments I had received “Don’t you look great Gemma” “Wow! I wish I had your figure ““look at all the weight you have lost”
It had seemed that all the weight I had lost had lost through ketones and dehydration had piled straight back on. No longer was my body using fat for fuel but the insulin was doing it job efficiently stimulating the cells in my body to take up glucose and storing any excess as fat. Despite being told by my diabetic consultant and dietician that I was a perfectly healthy weight for my height, it was dissatisfying to see myself progressively regain this weight.
It was then that it suddenly became obvious what was to blame for causing me to have such negative perceptions of my self. Insulin. The more I thought it over, the more stupid I felt for not making the link sooner. If the insulin was causing me to store fat I simply had to reverse this process by not doing the injections. Eureka! I felt like a clever scientist that had just found a groundbreaking cure for cancer.
That very night I decided to put my innovative plan into practice. After finishing my evening meal I completely omitted both my fast acting and long acting insulin. I felt like a naughty school child. Even though I logically knew that what I was doing was wrong, the overwhelming desire to be thin completely rid me of any rational thinking. The following morning I woke up feeling a little thirsty, nothing major so at breakfast I had my usual cereal but instead of counting carbs and injecting to compensate for them I missed my morning dose. I continued this process with the rest of my meals. As the days went on my blood sugars became dangerously high, so high they were off the scale on my monitoring device. I was extremely weak, constantly making trips to the bathroom and nothing would quench my perpetual thirst. My family were extremely concerned but I insisted that I just had a bug and with a bit of rest I would be fine again in no time. My mind was completely disordered; this ridiculous fad had taken control of me. In amongst the agonising stomach pains and vomiting the only thought that crossed my mind was “its working!” I could feel my clothes getting bigger and would stare joyfully at the gauntness of my emaciated body, ignoring the dark circles under my eyes and the deathlike pallor. I was losing weight and to me that’s all that mattered.
Seven years on since my diagnosis I find myself lying in that same small treatment room. It is my fifth admission to The Princess Royal Hospital in the past two years. I am suffering from ketoacidosis, have tachycardia and am dangerously underweight. My Hba1c reading is a shocking 13.9%. If an outsider were to look in they would think I was only just being diagnosed with diabetes. I am not; it has been my own free will that has got me here. The reason being I have become addicted to manipulating my insulin doses to lose weight, a condition often referred to by the term “diabulimia”. Like someone who is hooked on heroin or an alcoholic downing their second bottle of vodka the desire to be thin has become an obsession for me. The warnings from doctors and therapists have had little impact to slow my compulsion. Aged just seventeen I am now at huge risk of diabetic complications, anything from retinopathy in my eyes to neuropathy in my feet. I don’t want to have a stroke, heart disease or die young, but I may have already taken things a step too far. I am now getting professional psychiatric help for my illness and hope that anyone who is in a similar predicament would do likewise. I have a long and difficult road ahead of me but I hope within time I will learn to love the person I am and not have to go to dangerous lengths to reach an unachievable, unrealistic “perfection”. Please do your very best to keep your diabetes under control, having had first hand experience of diabulimia it really isn’t worth it. Who’s going to care if you are skinny if you are ! in a coffin six feet under?
Remember insulin is not the enemy; you need it to stay alive. Keep doing your injections, exercise and eat well and you will have a long, healthy, fulfilling future ahead of you.