"I will extol the Lord at all times; His praise will always be on my lips."
(In the hospital this last visit...)
In March, 2015, I had my three month checkup at my transplant clinic. They took blood work and checked my A1c. As usual, it was fine. However, sometime between March and June something happened. Slowly within those three months I began having symptoms. Symptoms that I should've recognized. I was extremely tired and exhausted. My mouth was really dry and I was constantly thirsty, but no matter how much I drank it felt I was dying from thirst. I felt sick. I felt light headed. My blood pressure was always high. I was so nauseous, I could hardly eat. I had completely and utterly lost my appetite. And as a result of that, I lost 15 pounds!! The weight just shed off of me very quickly. Near the end of the three months, I couldn't walk straight. I knew something was seriously wrong.
I kept telling the doctors something was up. I had clinic the following Monday, but I was fed up with worrying. So I finally went into a local doctor Friday the 19th just to see if I could figure out what was going on. They took lab. Then I went home not expecting to hear anything until Monday. Saturday morning I get a phone call from the nurse on-call. When I answered she sighed in relief and said, "Oh, I'm so glad you answered the phone! You need to go to the ER right now! I got results back from your blood work... Your blood sugar was 892!" I was in shock and was like, "What? That has to be a mistake..." She said they thought maybe it was a mistake, but to go in to get tested right away. I began to become anxious thinking at any point I could just simply pass out if it really was that high.
I called Joe and my mom. My mom took me to the ER and Joe met up with us there... (Hmmm, haven't we done this before...? Ha!) The nurse was already waiting for me because the on-call nurse had given her a heads up. She was super kind and helped us all relax. They took my blood and sent it to lab. It felt like forever before the nurse finally checked on the lab results herself. My blood sugar was 773. The nurse went into action quickly... obviously surprised I was still coherent and able to talk in a normal conversation.
Soon after I was rushed back into the ER. The people in there were also astonished, "You should be in a coma!" I was thinking, "Well, I'm not, so let's get the numbers down... okay?!" Everyone was bustling about. Honestly, everything was so rushed, I felt like I was in a bit of a haze. Still completely coherent, but maybe in a bit of shock.
My mom, dad, Joe, sisters Rachel and Maria were in the ER patient room with me. Eventually they were all asked, but Joe, to leave the room. I was given IV fluids for about an hour before they finally starting giving me insulin to lower the blood sugar. My mother told me later that they have to do that to help thin the blood. She said that if the blood sugars are over 600, your blood can become like syrup. Geeze!! My blood was like syrup?! Good grief.
My sister Rachel told me later she thought it was hilarious that the doctors seemed so nervous to give me any sort of medication until they talked with ALL my doctors. They were calling my local doctor, my Kansas City doctors, and my Dallas doctors. I know I'm a complicated patient...
Finally I was given a room and they slowly brought my sugars down over the course of five days in the hospital. A few friends and family visited while I was there. The doctors ran several tests and I was officially diagnosed the next morning. The doctor came into my room Sunday morning and said, "Well, I have good news and I have bad. Bad news, you have diabetes. Good news, it's totally manageable!" I actually happened to be alone when I was given the results. The doctor was so very kind. She had told me after that when she saw the results she felt bad to have to tell me. So sweet of her to care so much.
The night before I had been agonizing over the fact that I had probably developed diabetes. It had always been a fear of mine. I kept asking God, "Please, no, please no..." But in that moment, I took the news well. I said, "Okay," and knew that was just the way it was. I would survive, as always. I would keep fighting as always.
I asked how this could happen... and so quickly! Within a span of three months I went from great blood sugars to almost being in a coma! I was told by one person that when someone develops diabetes without realizing it, this situation can happen. Also, another person at the hospital told me they thought my pancreas just stopped producing insulin. The diagnosis explains every single one of my symptoms. I keep telling myself, I should've known.
Sunday night I cried myself to sleep. Instead of "Please no," I was asking God, "Why? Why??" I felt angry. I was angry that one of my worst fears had come true. I felt overwhelmed with all I would have to learn and do just to keep my sugars stable. I was overwhelmed with another huge weight to carry, and charts, and more logs, and more medicine to keep track of... it felt like another huge balancing act I was undertaking. I was sad... so I cried.
The next day came and the tasks ahead of me felt daunting. Everyone that found out how high my sugars had been all exclaimed, "You should've been in a coma!!" I know, I know...
After I left the hospital, I lost my vision for over a week. Thankfully I didn't go completely blind, but everything was extremely blurry. And when it reached it's peak, I could barely see a thing. To be honest, I hated it and it terrified me. I counted the days to when I would be able to see again. Everyone assured me it was completely normal and I would be able to see again soon. And I did. My vision is back and is fine. "I was blind, but now I see." :)
Now, it's been several weeks. My blood sugars are stabilizing and I'm starting to figure out this whole new world of diabetes. I know it can be overwhelming at times, but I know I'll get through it. It's not as horrible as I first thought it would be. In fact one upside of having CF-related diabetes is I'm not on a strict diet... I can still eat as much as I need as long as I balance it out with my insulin! And I know eventually everything will simply become routine. Many CF people I know have diabetes and they're doing great... so I'll be fine.
While I was still in the hospital, one nurse in particular made an impression on me. My mom had mentioned how high my blood sugars had been. The nurse, a petite Hispanic woman, looked straight into my eyes, pointed her finger, and firmly said, "You are blessed!" Then said it again for emphases, "You are blessed! You are blessed to even be sitting there talking to me right now. You're lucky to be alive." She wanted me to realize it; to know it. I felt like saying, "I know, I know, I am thankful!"
Really, though, her words hit me hard and it got me thinking. The anger I had been feeling the night before started to fade. I suddenly realized I shouldn't be angry at Him. I shouldn't blame Him. I should be thanking Him. I was bound to develop diabetes eventually. I have CF, it most likely was going to happen. But He allowed me to live through yet another strange crisis. I could've possibly had major complications, but I didn't. I could've easily slipped into a coma, but I didn't. I survived, caught the problem in time, and entirely while still awake and coherent. He really does know what He's doing. God is good. That night I had fallen asleep not asking why or asking please; I was thinking, "Thank you..."
However, I am done with these crisis emergency visits to the hospital... right, God?! ;)
Much love,
~Julia Jean
