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"Honeymooning in the Hospital"

Discussion in 'Teens' started by k.hawkins92, Sep 9, 2009.

  1. k.hawkins92

    k.hawkins92 Approved members

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    I had to write a personal narrative for my AP english class about an event that impacted my life. Anyone wanna guess what I wrote about? :rolleyes::D Anyway, I've always used my dx as a paper topic for this kind of thing, and I got tired of writing the same old sequence of events. Sooo, this time, I gave it a different intro, added dialouge, and lots of descriptions. I'm quite pleased with the way it turned out. :) Oh yeah, and the name of the thread is what I titled my paper.

    Any of you guys use your dx as a topic for papers like this?
     
  2. LadyBug

    LadyBug Approved members

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    not yet, but i think i probably will end up using it a lot.........
    i'd love to read it if you're comfortable posting it:)
    (if not, that's cool too:cool:)
     
  3. misscaitp

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    I don't think I've ever written a English paper on diabetes, but when I do it in science I usually add in a little bit of personal information.
     
  4. kierbabi09

    kierbabi09 Approved members

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    I have not used my diagnosis per se, but I have used diabetes as my research topic, senior year.
    I too would love to read youur paper.
     
  5. k.hawkins92

    k.hawkins92 Approved members

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    Alright, I tried to upload the file, but my computer wouldn't let me do it. :rolleyes: So I'll just copy and paste it here. Sorry, it looks super long in this format, but I don't know another way to get it to you all. Hope you guys like it.:)

    Honeymooning in the Hospital​

    I am 16 years old, and I've already had my first honeymoon. I didn't spend it on a white sandy beach or in a fancy hotel with a breathtaking view. In fact, I wasn't even married. I was simply a confused nine year old girl, lying on a hospital bed, being bombarded with information. My doctors told me to enjoy the "honeymoon", because what followed it would be a much harder, much more complicated life.

    My official anniversary is March 13, 2002. This was the day I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. The day my life changed forever, and one of the only days I can clearly remember my mother crying. It was a few days after my state gymnastics competition, where I placed 29th, to my dismay. My hopes had been set higher, but I was plagued by fatigue and extreme weight loss, and I didn't understand why. My family and I were in the car driving into town for dinner, and I remember thinking to myself, "If I don't get something to drink right now, I'm going to die." However, knowing that there was nothing in the car to satiate my incredible thirst, I didn't voice my complaint, and waited until we got the restaurant.

    When we were finally seated, and the waitress arrived to place our drink orders, I wasted no time in asking for a tall glass of lemonade; ice cold, impossibly sweet lemonade. The waitress barely had time to set the glass on the table, and I had drank almost all of it. Before we had even gotten our food, I consumed four glasses of the sugary poison, and had been to the bathroom twice. When I returned from my second trip, my mom looked into my hollow eyes and sunken cheeks, turned to my father and said,

    "I bet she has it. She has to. Just look at her."

    My father responded with a nod, and whispered, "We'll schedule the doctor's appointment tomorrow."

    Meanwhile, I had heard this conversation, but I was too tired and absorbed in my lemonade to ask what they were talking about. Two days later, I found out, the hard way. I was sitting on one of those doctor's tables, in my pediatrician's office. The room was painted to appeal to little kids, however, at nine; I still slightly appreciated the bright colors. My doctor ran some routine blood tests, which I was quite unhappy about, and my mom, brother and I sat in the room in silence as we waited for the results. Moments later, my doctor burst into the room, and began talking to my mom in a very serious, rushed tone.

    "Her blood sugar is over 700, you need to take her straight to the hospital, don't go home to get clothes, have someone bring them to you. I will make arrangements at the hospital; and I'll meet you there after she is admitted."

    The next thing I knew, I was being ushered out the door and into the car. As soon as we left the parking lot, my mom immediately called my dad at work to tell him the news. After that, she called her mom, and broke into tears when she tried to explain what happened. At the sight of this, I was thoroughly confused, but I didn't ask any questions until we got into the hospital, where I was swiftly taken to a room. As soon as I was seated on the bed, a nurse named Crystal (who quickly became my favorite) came in and gave me a shot of insulin, and put a Daffy Duck band aid on the injection site. Now, at this point in my life, it would have been an understatement to say that I was afraid of needles. I was terrified of them, phobic, even. When Crystal told me that I would have to have multiple shots a day for the rest of my life, my exhaustion was suddenly mixed with intense fear and sorrow. My heart felt like it dropped 6 inches in my chest. I looked up at my mom, who was listening to a doctor with a helpless expression on her face. I turned back to the nurse who had given me the shot, but she was gone. My eyes felt heavy, and so I drifted into a restless sleep, and was later awoken by a Crystal, who was holding more needles - the last thing I wanted to see. But somehow, she seemed to understand that I was upset and confused, and made things easier for me. When I was discharged, she was among the list of people I wrote cards for.

    When my doctor came in that evening, she began to explain things. I had something called diabetes. I could manage it, but it meant I needed many shots of insulin each day. She also explained to me the "honeymoon" phase. Right after diagnosis, my pancreas would continue to sporadically kick out small amounts of insulin, before it decided to completely bite the dust for good. They call it the honeymoon, because it means you can take fewer shots, if your body is still producing a small amount of the hormone on its own. My honeymoon only lasted about four weeks, and unfortunately, you only get one per lifetime with diabetes.

    My days in the hospital drug on, as my family and I learned insane amounts of information in a small amount of time. My mom learned how to count my carbohydrates in my food, and convert that number into an insulin dosage. She learned how to check my blood sugar, how to give me a shot, and how to use the emergency red needle incase I had a seizure. I didn't understand much of this at the time, but I knew it was all important, and I was forced to become responsible for my body and my health at a very young age. What I did understand however, was that those shots that I was given made me feel better. I wasn't so thirsty anymore, and I didn't feel sick all the time, and I was even starting to get some energy, at least, enough to stay awake all day while lying in bed. I also realized that I was gaining my weight back. The doctors were ecstatic when I finally stopped losing weight, and started gaining it back (after reaching an all time low of 57 pounds).

    I was finally released from the hospital after I was rehydrated, replenished, and completely reprogrammed to think like a diabetic. Everything in my life took on a new meaning. Everything I did, everything I saw reminded me of what I had been through, and what I was going to face for the rest of my life. This is a disease that is managed, but never mastered. Every day there are surprises, highs and lows that must be treated. It is a disease that never stops. When I take a vacation, diabetes doesn't; it will always be with me. Diabetes doesn't care if it's my birthday, the cake will still have carbohydrates, and I will still need insulin.

    I have learned to adapt to this lifestyle, and it has taught me to never take anything for granted. Before I was diagnosed, people preached to me about appreciating what I had, and how you never know what you have until it's gone. This is a hard concept to grasp if you haven't lived through it. And having done just that, I am now extremely thankful for my life, and understand just how precious it is. We are fragile, and at any moment something we grossly under appreciate can be taken from us, whether that is the simple pleasure of enjoying a piece of candy without a pinprick from a needle, or the very life of someone we love. It is astounding how often we forget why we're here, and what we're doing. I was rudely reminded of this on March 13, 2002. The day that my life was thrown to pieces by this disease, was the day that I was enlightened about what truly matters in life.
     
    Last edited: Sep 10, 2009
  6. kierbabi09

    kierbabi09 Approved members

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    Kaela, that is AMAZING!!!!!!
    Wow, that is pretty much all I can say:)
     
  7. k.hawkins92

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    Aww, thanks Kier! Hopefully my teacher thinks so too. :D
     
  8. emm142

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    That is amazing! I wrote a paper on D last year in English.
     
  9. MissEmi

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    AWESOME!!! I haven't used D yet.
     

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