Happy Sunday!

Good Morning!

It is a late Sunday morning and we are still in the breakfast mode.  My husband and I have finished our breakfast, and I am now sitting here watching my precious boy attempt to feed himself yogurt.  He's doing so well, even if his face is looking like a canvas that has had a bunch of paint just splattered all over it!

Whoa, here goes another hot flash. Pardon me if I changed the subject quickly, but I am writing in the moment here.  Yes, at age 34, I am suffering hot flashes already!

I often look at my life and I am so thankful for everything that I have been given.   For everything I have been through earlier in my life, I believe the later half of my life will be even better.

I usually write about my living with a chronic illness, but have come to realize that I have never written about the actual day that my life changed forever.

Funny - it was a Sunday, at about this time of day.  I remember it like it was  yesterday.  October 5, 1986 was going to be the day that I, at the age of 10, was going to take on, what I feel, is an adult responsibility.

It was 3 weeks before my 11th birthday and I had gone to church that morning with my Aunt Kathleen.  Mass had just ended and I remember being in the pew waiting for everyone else to leave.  I felt this wave come over me.  First, it started in my ears.  There was a sound, a buzzing noise, similar to that of bacon frying in a pan on high heat.  I couldn't hear anything else over that frying noise.  I remember thinking that this would pass and to just concentrate on getting out of the church.   I don't remember saying anything to my Aunt at this point.  I just didn't feel well and wanted out.  I then remember walking slowly with the crowd down the aisle as the crowd stopped to greet the Priest and say their Sunday morning hellos to everyone.  I do remember seeing a classmate of mine while we were slowly pouring out of the church, and she talked to me, I just nodded and smiled because something just wasn't right.  By this time, I was starting to lose my sight.  So now, with frying in my ears, a hot wave over me, and my sight going, I just kept focused on the light outside coming from the doors in the back of the church.   I just needed to get out and get some air.  By this time, I think my Aunt had clued in that something was just not right.  The view through my eyes was fuzzy,  just like when a station is off the air on television, or when you rub your eyes real hard and let go, for that split second, your eyes are a bit off.  Well, my eyes were doing that, and just not letting up.

When I finally reached the outside, I thought I would be able to breathe.  My Aunt clearly saw that something was wrong from the pale panicked look on my face.  I told her I felt sick, like I was going to bring up.  I didn't.  But, I do not remember the walk from the top of the church steps to the car.  I do remember getting into the car, and then feeling relieved to lay my head back on the seat.  But, as I did, with my Aunt looking over me, my eyes began to roll back in my head.  I was losing consciousness.  I remember my Aunt slapping my face quickly and gently and talking to me to keep me conscious.  Thankfully, I stayed with her, looked into her eyes,  and managed to stay conscious.

After this, I seemed to come around a bit.  We drove back to my Grandmother's house where she was serving a huge Sunday dinner with all the fixings. I  laid on the couch with a cold cloth for a bit, then felt better and  ate a huge plate of food..

It just so happened that I wasn't with my Mom at church that day because of some prior arrangement my Mom had that day.  Looking back now, I am glad I wasn't with my Mom.  I would hate to have had her see me like that.

I am assuming at this point that it was my Aunt who called my Mom to let her know what had happened to me.  My Mother showed up to my Grandmother's house shortly thereafter.  She told me to get ready as we were leaving to go to the hospital.  I remember telling Mom that I now felt fine and there was no need to go.  Thankfully, my Mom didn't listen to me, and she suggested that it be best that we go just to have me checked out.

We arrived at the hospital.  I don't remember much about it except that they took some blood work and then I remember that it was a very long wait  I just wanted to leave and go home.

Then the doctor came in, and I don't remember much about that conversation either.  All I remember is him telling my Mother and I that my blood sugar was at 25 mmol and that I was Diabetic.  At age 10, I didn't really understand that much, and what was involved, but I remember feeling pretty strong as my Mother fell apart.  She cried and she cried.  I remember having to pull her aside.  I told her something to the effect of "Now, Mom, it's okay.  I have this Diabetes thing, not you.  I will be fine. You need to stop crying."  As I look back on that, I feel amazed that at such a young age I could just pull it together like that.

So there you have it.  There's the story of how I became a Type 1 Diabetic.  I will probably continue with elaborating on a few things here and there, but will do that on another day.

In the meantime, I am approaching 24 years since that day.  And, I have done it "complication free".  So, life's not so bad.  There's so much to be grateful for.  What do YOU have to be grateful for?

Happy Sunday!
Cindy