Shawnsky Who?

I woke up Thursday, August 12, completely exhausted. I could barely lift my head off the pillow and I staggered into the living room to watch a rerun of Gilmore Girls. Three hours later I woke to a phone call from my mom. I mumbled something about being fatigued and hung up the phone. I didn't wake up until 2 pm when I received a phone call from Kaiser.

The lady on the other end of the line informed me that I needed to come in immediately for lab work. Yawning, I explained to her that I had already done my blood tests and inquired as to why I needed to come back. It turns out my electrolytes were dangerously low (especially my chloride) and they needed to make sure they were rising into a safe zone. I showered and headed over to the medical center. While checking in, I nonchalantly mentioned severe chest pains that I had been experiencing over the past couple days. The receptionist insisted that I go to urgent care, when all I wanted to do is write it off as a symptom of my strep throat (yes, I got strep the same day I got diagnosed with diabetes). She called the nurse and of course it was two against one-- I was out-voted.

I sat in the urgent care waiting room thinking it was the last place I wanted to be at that moment. Nurses, lab techs, and pharmacists passed by-- all of them familiar to me over this three day stint of tests. I was ushered in and the nurse began the vital tests. She asked me how I was diagnosed and for the millionth time that week I explained the story. When she asked why I was there, I told her about my chest pains. Her response was a harsh, "Why does it hurt? Because you are upset that you have diabetes?" If I knew why it hurt, I wouldn't be there, now would I?! I tried to maintain my composure, but tears began rolling down my cheeks. She gave me a frustrated look and asked, "Why are you crying?" I explained that it was just a lot to take in. She quickly blurted out, "Well if you do everything right, you should be fine. If you don't, your organs will shut down and you will die." Umm... bedside manner: 0-1.

Once I got settled into the observation area I was greeted by a cheery doctor. She made me laugh, I rehashed my story, and she explained in detail what was going on with my body. She had a nurse perform an EKG on me and once again, I was disappointed. Once she finished the test she detached what she must have thought were all of the components, however, there were a few stragglers left behind. When she tugged, the sensors ripped at my skin and I began to wonder who really wanted to be at work that evening. Luckily, my doctor returned shortly thereafter and informed me that there was nothing to worry about. Due to my cough, I had inflammation around my sternum, which was causing the sharp, shooting pain. She prescribed a pain killer and sent me back for my lab work.

I was greeted by a lab tech that was in a chatty mood. I couldn't even track with the guy and in my mind I was hysterically laughing while shouting what the hell?! He was hilarious. He started off our conversation by telling me how he is constantly working and barely sees his wife and kids... but look! He has new Nike shoes... in two different colors! Then he proceeded to act out a PI show where wives suspect that their husbands are cheating. The performance included dancing, a Marvin Gaye song, and a synopsis of the most recent episode. We talked about his family, friends (e.g., Shawnsky Love. I'll spare you the details and keep this blog PG-rated), and life experiences. This went on for about 30 minutes with my sugar dropping the entire time. But I didn't mind-- at least he put a smile back on my face and found my veins right away.

My family was concerned about me being by myself, so my sister and brother-in-law invited me down for a couple of days. I drove down immediately after leaving the doctor's office and arrived late that evening. We sat around talking and winded down with a few episodes of Friends. That is when I made the fatal mistake of opening my computer.

I typed in, "type 1 diabetes", and waited for the information to fill my screen. What I received was an overload of what could go wrong. A lump formed in my throat and a wave of panic washed over me. Would I be okay? Would I be able to have children? Will I pass this along to my kids? Could I lead a normal, healthy life? I let myself have a good cry and decided that I would take this thing head-on in the morning.