Most people don’t associate the feeling of being scared with type 1 diabetes. And I get it, most people don’t know what it’s like. They think about being sad or mad or confused. All those things are true too.
But imagine learning that your body was killing itself. That your own being was trying to destroy your life. That when you tried to do something good, it fought back with something bad. Imagine learning that without you knowing it, your body was literally deteriorating.
Now imagine there’s not a cure. Nothing to completely take away the deterioration. That you’d have to. fight your body breaking itself down every minute of every day.
Yeah, it sounds sad. It sounds like it would make you mad and confused. But it’s so scary.
I’m a great diabetic. You’ve seen me write this before and I will continue to do so over and over and over again. Because I’m dang proud of myself for it.
But I’m also human. I make mistakes, I mess up. Technology isn’t perfect like we sometimes think and there are sometimes problems and hiccups with the system that is out of our control. So relying on myself, an imperfect, flawed human being, and a piece of technology that was made by another imperfect, flawed human being to keep me alive? Yeah, it’s scary.
The first thing I was scared of was not making it inside the hospital. I vividly remember my mom being scared and we were walking from the parking deck to the emergency room and I was carrying a blanket and a pillow and a bag I think. My mom had the rest. And she wanted me to be better ASAP so she was asking me to hurry. And I remember thinking to myself as I looked at this weird, red statue, just one step at a time. Just make it, Hannah. Watch the weird statue and then watch it pass you. But there was part of me thinking, I’m not sure I can actually do it.
Then, my fear turned to the shots. I was in ICU a while and was getting medicine put in me there, I didn’t have anything to think about. I remember being in and out of consciousness, and I honestly have a lot of blank spots. But I remember waking up in a new area and I was about to be transferred out of ICU and into a room and the nurse said it was my turn to do it. I was the wimp before that still cried and was terrified of the flu shot. I couldn’t do it to myself! And when I made it to my room, my nurse sat on the edge of the bed with me for forever, as I built up the courage to do my shot. Each time a little quicker, but each time being scared of having to stab myself with a needle multiple times a day for the rest of my life.
Then, I was scared about my family. How would they deal with this? Would they be angry that it was one more thing to deal with? What had I don’t wrong? Was God mad at me? Sometimes I think my family still is dealing with it. And that’s fair, me too. Thankfully, they understood more so than I that I was not to blame. I had no fault, and they weren’t angry with me. But this fear, the fear that I had done something wrong, that God was angry with me, that I would be an additional burden on them, lasted a long time, years actually.
Then, I was worried about everyone else in my life. And soccer. And school. I was scared of the everyday. How would people look at me? What prom dress would I be able to wear that wouldn’t show my diabetes? Would people judge me? Would they be scared of me? Could I play soccer? Would my coaches understand? This still rings true sometimes. Just a little, but still there. I don’t want my diabetes to ever get in the way or scare someone or not be able to do something because I’m low. But I’ve also accepted that that’s how life goes sometimes. And taking care of myself and educating those around me makes me feel much better about it.
But what am I scared of today? Today I’m scared of my imperfection. That my being human could cost me my life. One mistake.
Today, I’m scared that my pump will shut off in the middle of the night. Today, I’m scared that I’ll take my meter out, set it down, and leave it somewhere. Today, I’m scared that on my flight in two weeks, they won’t let me go through TSA or they’ll take my insulin. Today, I’m scared I’ll go somewhere, run out of snacks or forget them, and drop too low and won’t be found. Today, I’m scared that it may not matter what a great diabetic I am 99% of the time, the 1% could ruin it.
That’s my life. That’s the life of every mom, dad, brother, sister, and person with type 1 diabetes. The fear never goes away.
BUT. Learning to live outside of that fear is imperative. Living knowing there are things outside of your control ALWAYS instead of living with that fear controlling you.
So friends, yeah, I’m still scared. But I won’t let it control me.
HP