Short version of long story: I have LADA, so my onset was slower, and my doc initially diagnosed me as T2 and put me on glipizide, and then glyburide (or the other way around -- can't remember. But they were all that was available for T2)). And neither of them worked worth beans and I was getting very symptomatic, the 3 polys -- polydipsia, polyuria and polyphagia (otherwise known as drinking too much, peeing too much and eating too much), so I begged him for insulin. At first he would only give it to me at night, which did help the fasting, but meals were still hell, and then he put me on 70/30, which guaranteed 2 lows a day, and I decided to take matters into my own hands and got some R and used that plus the N I still had at home, and he finally agreed that I needed to be able to control my own insulin because I was having much more success. I put myself on the pump, too -- got an old one from a friend who'd gotten a new one. It's really hard to deal with recalcitrant doctors when you don't fit into the preconceived boxes. I think doctors are maybe more aware of LADA now, but this one wasn't (I started having problems in 1992), and especially because my onset was between the ages of 43 and 45, which was when I went on insulin and finally got myself under control. I WASN'T supposed to get diabetes, because neither one of my parents had it, although my grandmother did, and it's interesting that none of my 8 siblings and cousins has it either, and some of them are in their 70's. I was my grandmother's favorite grandchild, so she gave me her diabetes!
Wow, the stories!! I'll try to shorten mine.
I was 10 and had returned from a Christmas trip to Acapulco. In Acapulco, I was so dehydrated, I drank regular Coke after Coke, water directly from the faucet even though I knew I wasn't supposed to - I just didn't care...I was THIRSTY. Fast forward to February...I had been losing weight and others saw it but did not say anything, I had only 1 pr of elastic pants that fit me and coming home from school everyday and crashing out for hours at a time. One day, I felt like I was coming down with the flu and stayed home from school. All day I had to pee, drink 32oz, to pee it within an hour...the whole day was like this. I could only communicate with my mom by writing down on paper "more ice, water". My mom was scheduled to go to her night job until 4 am and it was just her and I living together as my parents had recently divorced. When I went into the bathroom and hit my head on the tub, she realized something was terribly wrong. She drove me into town about 10 miles away to our family physician. His diagnosis was anywhere from "pregnant" to "spinal meningitis" but he really did not know. From what I am told, it took 6 people to hold me down while I was having seizures. It was decided that I needed to be flown in a Flight for Life helicopter to Children's Hospital in Denver. My sugars exceeded 1000.
After diagnosis (I was numb to it all) a month or so went by and I was at my best friend's house and she was displaying all the symptoms that I had learned. I suggested that she get tested and lo and behold she was diagnosed as well as another little girl in her neighborhood.
I have been diabetic 32 yrs now, went on the pump in 1999 and had a daughter in 2002. My pregnancy couldn't have gone any better and my A1C was the best it had/has ever been. My daughter was diagnosed 2 yrs ago - bigtime sadness for me but we are a team and we can do it together. The super crazy thing? The same doctor that diagnosed me? diagnosed my daughter and is her doctor now.
The journey has been nothing short of crazy and I just hope that my daughter does better than I and takes care of herself better than I. That I will see her get married and have kids.
I can only tell the story as it was told to me. 54 years ago, at the age of 2, my mother told me I started wetting the bed at night (I'd been potty trained) and quit growing. She was 7 months pregnant at the time. She took me to our pediatrician who told her I was being spoiled by my grandmother. My mother did not like that answer and took me to a family practice doctor who immediately had me admitted into the local hospital with the diagnosis of Type 1 diabetes. I have seen so many changes in the treatment of diabetes since I was aware that I was diabetic, it is amazing. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Like other's I'll deliver the short story. It was the fall of 1975 and I was 16. I had been drinking a lot of fluids and needless to say had been making numerous bathroom trips. My mom caught me on one of these trips in the early morning hours (it was about 2 am) and cornered me on the amount I'd been drinking and peeing the previous week and asked me to get on the scale. Apparently she also noticed that I had lost weight. Even thou I had shot up several inches since the previous winter I had also lost some 20 pounds in the process. I was 6 feet tall (183 cm) and weighed 135 lbs (61 kg) that morning. I certainly wasn't heavy to begin with but looking at the pictures I did look like a bag of bones compared to earlier in the year.
Mom made the Dr's appointment that morning and after a lot of poking, prodding and blood draws as well a pee test the word was handed down. I don't remember any numbers when diagnosed, and the final word did take a few days but the rest as they say is history.