Can I Go Home Yet? A Christmas Diagnosis

 

It's December already! The festive month for many, a birthday month for me. It also happens to be the month which brought the diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes to my life and I'm going to share that story with you in this blog, today.

Once you've finished reading (that may have already happened) I'd like to draw your attention to the Buy Me A Coffee link at the bottom of the page. Many of you have kindly supported my blog by using that link and for that I'm very thankful. From today until Jan 1 2022, anybody who buys me a coffee via that link will be contributing to a donation to three, maybe four if enough coffees are bought, Diabetes charities. Funds will be split evenly across each charity and I will round up any odd pennies and pounds from my own pocket. I will also add a PayPal link at the bottom of the page to give you the option of different funding methods. If you prefer to use another method then please let me know. Oh and one last thing; Please only donate if it's affordable for you. 

Right! That's the Diabeticathon Relief message out of the way.  It's story time. Are you sitting comfortably?

"Mum?... Mummy, what's happening?!"

Everything was spinning and rushing around passed my head. That was because I had been scooped up from the floor by my mother and she was running to the house telephone, with me in her arms, to get help. I was barely conscious.

"I found him on the floor, what should I do?"

Mum didn't acknowledge me, her focus was on getting advice from my dad and help for me. I started to cry.

"Don't worry" she tried to reassure me, "Dad's on his way home, you might need to see the doctor"

A couple of days before the collapse, I was feeling unwell. The usual 4 Ts; Tired, Thirsty, Toilet, Thinner. I'd also developed a rash on my core which was put down to Measles or Chicken Pox. Generally, I was in good spirits. It was my birthday in a few days and Christmas a week after that. I didn't feel awful but I was drinking a lot of water and nothing was quenching the thirst. I was also told to stay home from school. What a bonus! an early break for the Christmas holiday. My friends would be so jealous! I'm so thirsty, though.

The following days were a blur. I spent most of my time asking for water, peeing or lying on the sofa. Relatives brought me a bottle of Lucozade - the good stuff with tonnes of glucose in it, unlike the modern day version which is less potent. Great! something new to drink. It didn't really improve my thirst, as you might imagine.

I knew something was wrong on the day of the collapse because I was feeling incredibly weak. Everybody was saying "Measles" and I believed the adults because they know best. 

It was mid-afternoon on the 17th of Dec 1984. A date which sticks in the memory like a scene from Back To The Future or The Terminator. Everything felt very strange and woozy. As an adult, I compare it to a very drunk sensation but not at all pleasant. Perhaps similar to waking up following surgery. Then the world went black. I'd fallen, face first, into the living room carpet. My mum heard the thump and rushed in to find me lying there. As a parent, I can only imagine her horror at entering the room to find her child in that position. The scooping up and phone call began and I regained consciousness.

"I'll take him to Dr Ishaq" proclaimed my dad, after a brief discussion when he arrived home.

Dr Ishaq was the local GP, his surgery was a 5 minute drive away. I think we made it in 3.

"Don't worry, it's probably just measles or maybe a bit of a flu" My dad tried to reassure. I didn't know what either was and, to be frank, I would've accepted anything at this point especially a pint of water.

I saw the doctor within seconds. He asked some questions of my parents and then took a look at the rash on my core.

"You'll have to take him to the Borough"

'The Borough' was the locally used name for Warrington Borough Hospital. Even at my tender age of 7, I knew of that following many overheard conversations.

"Jim from next door has broken his ankle, he's in The Borough"

"She was in and out of The Borough on the same day! 8lbs, he is, they're calling him Matthew"

So, I knew The Borough and now you do too - it's the hospital at the top of this blog and A&E was where I was heading in floods of tears. Hospitals are for operations, needles, blood! I was right about two of those.

"It's probably just a flu" one of my parents said on the drive over. Many hopes were being pinned on Measles and now Flu was on the table - both very serious illnesses but I suspect they were fearing much worse and their reassurance was as much for themselves as it was for me.

"Please slow down" I begged of my dad. It felt like he was driving at 100mph. He wasn't, I was just dizzy all the time now and the movement of the car, passing vehicles, trees, etc was making me feel worse. I was probably trying to buy myself some time, too because hospitals = operations, needles and blood.

Naturally, they wanted my bodily fluids and it began with the slightly scary urine sample. I wasn't frightened of passing urine but I was concerned about my room being full of nurses. Seriously, I remember there being 3 or 4 in there - all standing around to wait for me to have a wee into a container. In 1984 we must have had armies of nurses with spare time to watch young patients relieve themselves. I couldn't go and they quietly drifted away. Aaaah! finally. You're gonna need a bigger container and I need a drink of water.

Nothing really happened for a while. I was refused food and water and the evening drew on. Not really an emergency response, right?

"Don't worry... I think it's a flu. I don't think it'll take long" Dad was shifting around in his chair and mum had already gone home because she had my three other siblings to take care of.

Another nurse arrived, carrying a tray. Maybe this was my medicine and I can go home? If only. She was carrying a "BM" kit - now known as a Blood Glucose check.

"I just need to do a BM, Paul. It's a tiny finger prick"

"No! Dad!"

The panic was real.

"It's alright, you'll hardly feel a thing and it'll help them decide which medicine is best for you"

I poked out a finger (not that one) and turned the other way.

CLUNK!

"Oww!"

"All done, well done, you're so brave" the nurse tried to calm me. I cried and cried.

She left the room and what seemed like hours passed. My dad was growing agitated while I kept falling asleep and I was continually woken up. I was exhausted and hungry. Into the late evening, a gaggle of medical professionals appeared.

"We need to do a blood test, Paul. Is that alright?"

"No! You've already done that!"

"That was just a finger prick. We need a blood sample" the nurses gathered and my rage and panic grew.

"OK, but then can I go home?"

They nervously laughed. I was too tired to fight or even cry now. A blood sample was taken and they all disappeared again. It was very late, now perhaps midnight. A doctor appeared.

"We need to keep you in, Paul and I have to give you an injection, I'm very sorry"

The news just keeps getting better, eh?!  Too tired to fight and crying was definitely off the agenda - I was as dry as the desert.

"I'll call mum and ask her to bring your PJs. You're going to be alright" offered my dad, following the doctor out of the room after he'd administered my injection. I realise this was his opportunity to quiz him and the flock of nurses without me overhearing any bad news.

"Mum's on the way" he blurted as they pushing me down corridors towards the children's ward. "You can have something to eat and drink soon" he added.

Another finger prick happened after I arrived in my room. They kept me off the ward for some reason. Maybe to reduce my own stress? Soon after, I was granted some toast and a giant jug of water. I was feeling better. To this day, I don't know what was in that first injection apart from the obvious - insulin. Perhaps a mix of short and long acting. I thought I'd be in overnight because it was too late to let me go home and mum would take me back in the morning.

Morning came as did another finger prick. I was already becoming conditioned to them. No tears, I was just sad that I have to have another one after all the ones they did yesterday! Mum and dad were already there and they were ushered outside to "have a quick word about something".

The first time you hear your mum cry is a traumatic time. I didn't recognise it as being her. I thought someone was having a blood test or an injection and getting upset. Then I heard her muffled voice, talking and asking questions, crying some more. 

They entered the room with a different murder of nurses, including one who was dressed in normal clothing. I was about to find out that she was a DSN and was about to be told that I have Type 1 Diabetes, that it's nothing to worry about and I'll just need to look after what I eat. An education followed, books were handed over, leaflets offered. They left. I didn't think this was forever and the next injection would be my last. They went for a thigh and I kicked and screamed and made their life very difficult indeed.

"Someone is feeling better today!" I heard a nurse chuckle after witnessing the injection battle.

"Can I go home yet?"

Thank you so much for reading this blog. I do appreciate your visit and your support. As you might know, I LOVE COFFEE! So I've teamed up with a thing called Buy Me A Coffee. If you enjoy my content and appreciate the time it takes to create such things then you can buy me a coffee! AND until Jan 1st 2022 I'll be donating all your kind coffees to various Diabetes charities. 

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