When someone asks me “How are ya?” like in passing at the supermarket, I tell ’em the truth: “I’m surviving!” Some just look at you, but telling them “I’m fine” would not be quite true, especially on my bad days. We’ve lived up here in the hills now for 16 years and I think in the mean time people seem to know I’m that diabetic mum who’ll let you know all about her not so good days. This was my life till about a year ago: constant depression because of this stupid Type 1 Diabetes.
I was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes at the tender age of 13, this was March 1978. The girl that I was then would be called anorexic; for I was quite tall, but skin on bones with nothing in-between. Isn’t it great that the needles have shrunk and become Pens and that they are sooo much easier to handle… Learning to inject an inch-long needle at a 45 degree angle was a challenge in itself. My Mum made such a fuss about all the stuff we needed to learn. That I decided right on day 3, after hearing that I would have this for the rest of my life, I needed to learn this to be independent and able to live without being a burden to others.
What topped it off was, around that time one young doctor told me one day I probably wouldn’t be able to have children because of this Diabetes Mellitus. So I went through my difficult adolescents thinking I was abnormal, very different from the other girls because I probably couldn’t have children.
So when I married at 22, have a guess who had her first child at 23 and ended up with three beautiful, normal children by the time she was 28. I could tell you heaps about the births, time in the FMC before and after and the early years of these little darlings, but I won’t.
HbA1c is down onto 7, my eye background shows no more diabetic changes, even though they had started, which simply amazed my eye specialist and all in all I’m back living a normal life with diabetes again.
So now I tell everybody about my survival in the hope it will help others, too.