I had been sick for hours. To be honest it comes with the territory so there was no real reason to worry even when I discovered my blood sugar was over 400. There is a procedure to correcting everything in the diabetic realm so I did what I was supposed to do and waited to feel better. But I didn’t. Upon arriving home my heart began to pound as if it was attempting to escape my chest. The entire world stopped. I’m having a heart attack. AT 29, I’m having a heart attack…with my baby in my arms.
I called my mother to let her know the peril I was in and dialed 911 immediately after.
“911 whats your emergency”
“I’m having a heart attack”
“How old are you?”
“You’re probably not having a heart attack but I’m sending an ambulance.”
“I can have a heart attack at 29. I’m a diabetic. Can you just do me one favor and ask the paramedics to not let me die in front of my son.”
“You’re not going to die we are on the way.”
The firemen and my god sister arrived at the same time. I asked them with all sincerity to make sure I didnt die while my son was still in the room. One of the firemen grabbed my hand and looked me in my eyes, “You will not die in front of your son. I promise.” I began to weep silently as I handed my son to my god sister not knowing if this would be the last time I see him. I kissed him long and slow and left out on the stretcher.
I arrived at the hospital and the verdict was in, I was going into DKA. Diabetic Ketoacidosis. It was a rough battle that lasted several days. Mostly because the hospital staff was incompetent. They refused to give me the appropriate amount of insulin needed to bring me back into a normal range. They stated that they weren’t used to dealing with DKA and they operated on a “sliding scale”. After being tortured for two days my physician called and demanded my release so that they could treat me as needed.
We discovered that I went into DKA because my insulin pump had not been working for over 12 hours. Scariest experience of my life. All I could think about is who would take care of my son. Who would show him pictures and videos to give him a visual representation of my love? Who would tell him that he changed my life, he grew me up, and that he has always been my real reason to live? Who would let him know that GOD blessed me by gifting me with him?
Three years later I look at pictires of myself in the hospital and I thank God for covering me. I thank God for allowing me to see 32 (and prayerfully 33 this year). All I can think about is how Markita, Donne’, my mom, my dad, my sister Janee and my brother Demarri supported me the best they knew how even though I could see the pain in their eyes. I think about how my friend Ron had to catch me as I fainted in the bed from lack of oxygen. That’s what friends are for right? I think about my support. My support is amazing. It was then and it is now. I don’t have 30 friends but the 10-12 I have now mean everything to me.
I celebrate today. Because 3 years ago I could have died. I celebrate because God felt I was worthy enough to keep around. I celebrate because the bad things could always be worst. Happy made it to see another year anniversary to me : )
Until Next time…