January 2020
Olivia
Preston
,
ADN, CMSRN
Adult General Med/Diabetes
Long Beach Medical Center
Long Beach
,
CA
United States
That night, a nurse, Olivia, sat with me almost all night and taught me what I needed to know.
I was 19. I was in my second semester of college, full of life and passion to learn about the world. I had started to feel "not right" about a week prior. I would panic if I didn't have water to drink at all times. I wasn't sleeping because I was peeing every 10 minutes. I lost 14 pounds in one week despite eating two cheeseburgers from In-N-Out every night because I was hungrier than I had ever been in my life.
"You have Type 1 Diabetes. Your body has stopped working the way it needs to, and if you don't inject insulin every day for the rest of your life, there will not be a "rest of your life"!" These may not have been the exact words that Dr. Clarke said to me, but those were the words that my 19-year-old brain heard. Fear. Uncertainty. Anger. Confusion. All the things, I felt them all. I spent the next four days at Long Beach Memorial. I hated it. Why? How? Forever? I was lost.
They tried to educate me. I pushed them away and told them to leave my room. My sugar was 690; there were IVs all over the place. I was starving, and they only allowed me 800 calories each day. I was miserable. This was my new life? No thanks, I'll pass. As I stormed out of my room, trying to get away from it all (IV pole in tow), I came to a literal fork in the road; a four-way hallway. Which way would I choose?
In that moment, God grabbed me by the heart and said, "My child, you can do this!" I looked to the left and saw the pediatric diabetes wing of the hospital. OMG! They are so young, I thought to myself. Then I gathered my shattered self up off the floor and headed back to my room, where I apologized to the doctors and nurses who had been trying to help me learn.
That night, a nurse, Olivia, sat with me almost all night and taught me what I needed to know. She specifically told me that I would need to spend every day learning more. My college friends joined me at the hospital to watch the 1999 Super Bowl in my very un-cozy little room. They also helped me transition to a new way of life when I went back to the dorm at Long Beach State. I am forever grateful.
In January, it will be 20 years. I think of Olivia often and have devoted much of my career to helping others survive Type 1 as well.
"You have Type 1 Diabetes. Your body has stopped working the way it needs to, and if you don't inject insulin every day for the rest of your life, there will not be a "rest of your life"!" These may not have been the exact words that Dr. Clarke said to me, but those were the words that my 19-year-old brain heard. Fear. Uncertainty. Anger. Confusion. All the things, I felt them all. I spent the next four days at Long Beach Memorial. I hated it. Why? How? Forever? I was lost.
They tried to educate me. I pushed them away and told them to leave my room. My sugar was 690; there were IVs all over the place. I was starving, and they only allowed me 800 calories each day. I was miserable. This was my new life? No thanks, I'll pass. As I stormed out of my room, trying to get away from it all (IV pole in tow), I came to a literal fork in the road; a four-way hallway. Which way would I choose?
In that moment, God grabbed me by the heart and said, "My child, you can do this!" I looked to the left and saw the pediatric diabetes wing of the hospital. OMG! They are so young, I thought to myself. Then I gathered my shattered self up off the floor and headed back to my room, where I apologized to the doctors and nurses who had been trying to help me learn.
That night, a nurse, Olivia, sat with me almost all night and taught me what I needed to know. She specifically told me that I would need to spend every day learning more. My college friends joined me at the hospital to watch the 1999 Super Bowl in my very un-cozy little room. They also helped me transition to a new way of life when I went back to the dorm at Long Beach State. I am forever grateful.
In January, it will be 20 years. I think of Olivia often and have devoted much of my career to helping others survive Type 1 as well.