Emotional Stamina


They rushed me ahead of everyone in the
ER. My coworker was there because she’s the one that drove me. And the triage
nurse asked, “How long have you had diabetes?” And I said, like, “I don’t have
diabetes.” And she was like, “Yes, you are.” You know, “You have
diabetes.” And I was like, “I don’t even know anybody with diabetes.
What do you mean?” And so she tells me my glucose is skyrocketing. It’s like
597 or something like this, and she’s like, “You’re going into a
diabetic coma.” I started screaming, “I’m dying. I’m going to die,” because,
like, for all I know that diabetes equals death. I didn’t know anything else, and
I spent six days in the hospital, alone, trying to understand diabetes,
trying to recover. And so, yeah. I spoke to my mom. I spoke to a
couple of friends but not too many, because they had a million and one
questions. I had a million and a million more. So I wrote what happened
to me on a blog post. That was my very first blog post. And I
told my friends, like, “This is what’s happened to me. You need
to read it,” because I didn’t have the energy, the answers, the emotional stamina
needed to answer all of their questions.

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