I'm 42 years old and have been a diabetic for over half
my life. I was diagnosed back in 1980,
when I went into a diabetic coma. I was
15 years old, just on the verge of getting my driver's license, and certainly
didn't need this diabetes thing interrupting my life. I rebelled against diabetes for the first few
years after I was diagnosed. I lost
those rounds, as you may have guessed.
I lived in a small town, and my doctor wasn't all that
enthusiastic in helping me learn about this disease or maintain my blood
glucose (sugar). I didn't know any
better, so I did the very least I could to survive. I got on track a couple of times later on,
when I was pregnant, and things went well during both pregnancies. But as soon
as my sons were born, life went back to the way it was for me and my diabetes
management.
I moved to another state and got another doctor, then
another doctor. It seemed to me (and granted, I might be a little on the
sensitive side) that every doctor I went to had this attitude that was
criticizing me for the way I wasn't controlling my diabetes. I felt like everyone was looking down on me,
and it made going to the doctor very uncomfortable for me--so uncomfortable, in
fact, that if I saw a doctor once a year, only if I was very ill. I continued taking multiple shots a day and
monitoring my blood glucose maybe once or twice a day.
Then I found out they were going to stop making the
insulin I had taken for all of my diabetic life. Another doctor, another prescription. Another feeling that I was letting down the
entire universe because my A1C wasn't as low as everyone else's. The new insulin I was put on was cool,
because I only had to take it once a day. I adjusted to this well.
I managed to get an appointment with an endocrinologist
-- it took 3 months to get that appointment.
I went in not expecting too much, other than the usual
“why-aren't-you-doing-better” type questions and attitudes. I was taken by surprise when the new doctor
came in, and instead of just telling me all I've done wrong and how bad off I
was, he actually took the time to ask me what happened when I was diagnosed,
how sick I was at the time, and listened to me tell that tale.
This wonderful doctor hooked me up with the company who
would help me get a pump, the trainer who would teach me all I needed to know
about it, and the information I needed to feel secure in this decision. Although I've only been on the pump for a few
weeks now, I already know I'm better. I monitor my blood glucose numerous times
a day, without anyone nagging me to, and I make my adjustments to my insulin
confidently. I have to say, it was quite an emotional moment when I got up the
day after being put on the pump, and realized that would be the first day in 27
years when I wouldn't have to take a shot.
It may not sound like much to a non-diabetic, but those diabetics out
there know what I mean when I say it was a teary-eyed moment.
Although I know I've still got a long way to go, I know
that I would never have gotten there had I not found this doctor who took the
time to care, empathize, and educate me on how much better my life can be. I knew this was the right doctor for me when,
as I was leaving, they said to me, "You are about to embark on a wonderful
journey, and I am so happy for you."
Had that doctor not taken the time to listen to me, and to be concerned
for me, I might never have made it to where I am today. Healthcare professionals need to realize that
everything they say, every attitude they emit, may impact their patients.
Anita P, 42
Bella Vista, AR
133699