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This is one of the contributions to:DIABETES ESSAY AND POEM COMPETITION 2009
The diabetic nightmare all began in November. Elliot had been drinking more and more every day. He began to drink pints of water in about three seconds! I was a bit clueless. It wasn’t like him at all. I mean he barely drank 4 glasses a day, but that soon tripled. He began to go the toilet about every half an hour. Then at night, there was the bed wetting. It happened about three times a month, but then that too tripled. It became a constant, change the bed, wash the cover, dry the cover, and make the bed routine. We all thought he had a week bladder. It was at that time we had to take him to the doctor. It wasn’t normal, something had to be done. My Mum told the doctor about his strange behaviour and he thought that Elliot could have diabetes, he asked for some urine samples. This would identify whether his predictions of diabetes were correct or incorrect. Mum was upset when she came home; she told me that they think Elliot has diabetes. I was stumped, I hadn’t had the faintest idea what that was. To me it was just some random letters put together, I asked and she said,”it is a type of disease to do with high and low blood sugar levels.” It didn’t sound that bad to me, but then she said, “He has to take four or more injections a day and he has to test his blood four or more times a day with a pricker.” It was then that I realised it wasn’t going to be as simply as I would have liked.
The test results came through. The doctor predicted correct, Elliot had diabetes. It was on that exact day when Elliot had to be taken into hospital. It was a Friday, and no it was not the 13th, it was in fact the 22nd. When Elliot and my Mum arrived in the hospital, Whipps Cross, they had to wait a few hours to be seen! It was eleven o’clock pm when they were eventually seen. Elliot and another boy were taken to a children’s ward, they both got in a wheelchair and sped down the corridor, smiling as they went (that was the most action he actually got in there) Elliot was put in a bed in the middle of the ward and he drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Elliot woke startled and slightly scared. There was a nurse sitting next to him testing his blood every five minutes. He had plasters all over his hand and wires coming from every direction. He skin was the colour of snow; he didn’t even look awake, for he had hardly any energy in him. He must of thought he was having a nightmare, but there was no need for him to say, “pinch me, i must be dreaming” he had a nurse pricking him already. All this description came from my parents, I didn’t see Elliot in hospital, I was not well, but my Mum and dad were up there twenty four – seven. I didn’t want to see him. That may sound harsh, but I was scared. I didn’t want to see him looking like they said he was. On the other hand, I should have, because it printed a terrible picture of him in my mind. No matter no hard I tried to wash it away, it still stayed there, stubborn to move. I brought me to tears many times, I must have used about five boxes of tissues, and it wasn’t even me with diabetes. Although I would have preferred that. Sometimes I want to kill my brother, but it was strange, on this occasion I wanted to be the one to suffer, take it off of him and stamp it on to me instead. All these emotions, through one disease. How? How could it have such an impact on our lives? Well, little did I know it was to get much worse. After a week of sitting in a hospital bed, Elliot came out. With all this complicated medical kit. He had a blood sugar level tester, an injection pen, needle tops, blood test strips, blood sugar level diary.
It has been 3 months now and we are kind of getting used to it but that doesn’t mean to say we haven’t had our fare share of hiccups. There have probably been three accounts of screaming and tears, “I don’t want to be diabetic anymore! Make it go away! I don’t want it! Why me? Why me? I hate being diabetic,” he would cry. There are sometimes huge rages of fear that awake from inside him. He is set not to take his injection, but with about half an hour of convincing, he eventually takes it. The cries that tell us he’s frightened not only scare him but they scare all of us. Me, Mum and Dad. It makes me cry and wish the noises, the terrible noises would stop, and turn to mute. Vanish into thin air but they can’t. They will always be there, memories that will sadly never fade.
I always wish that some day there will be a cure, a cure that will heal it. Make it dissapear, like a magician and his magic acts. How I wonder how they have cures for the most rare and extrodaniary diseases, yet they haven’t one for diabetes, a disease about an ingredient. Sugar.
It not only makes him suffer, but it makes me suffer. Elliot has become more and more violent, he has attacked me over what I would say as ‘nothing’. Elliot was never agressive but now, he has definitely changed. I have been puched and kicked and hurt all over as a result of mood changes through diabetes. I know it isn’t his fault and he cannot control it but he scares me. He really scares me and if there is ever a cure it would take great fear away from me. I hope that one day this nightmare will eventually end, and that I can go back to a normal life, with no horror. With no diabetes.