I just thought that I might alert you all of a miracle that happened right here, in England. This will come a massive shock to all who were not residing in England on this very day today ( or were not so hung over that they could not think. But you are all diabetics and if you have been hung over I shall be deeply ashamed of you :p) So back to the miracle ( I do tend to get sidetracked.) There was an unidentified object in the sky. I would say a UFO but it was sort of hovering in one space. Specialists have named this strange thing 'The Sun' and this 'sun' has magical powers to make everything warm and everyone sweaty. The last record of this 'sun' was back a few months ago when I was busy competing in a 1500m sprint/collapse and in the end having to take a friend to the nurse's surgery at school to treat her for a hypo. She isn't even diabetic!
I guess what I should be telling you all about next is the build up to diabetes. It all started a little less than a month before diagnosis. Each year, every borough in the tiny town of London gets together all their tuba players to play a Christmas concert outside Saint Paul's Cathedral which is a tiny little place snuggled somewhere in Little old London. I have a brother who happens to play two different types of tuba at the moment and has played four types in his life. They are ridiculously sized instruments (however I can't talk. I play the harp.) yet are wonderfully Christmassy. So I was standing on the steps of Saint Paul's tiny little Cathedral,trying to dodge the hail and half listening to the carols and Christmas songs and half busy catching frost bite. At long last, the tubas finished playing and I knew what was coming up next.
We were off to a posh burger bar. I don't normally like burgers as I have incredibly highly tuned senses (except for my sight which is dreadful) and I can taste the fat, grease and salt on them however this posh burger restaurant had good quality burgers and I ordered a bucket of milkshake to go with it. Well I say a bucket, it was more barrel sized and I doubted whether i could drink it all. By the end of the meal though, I had consumed 7 or 8 glasses of the stuff yet was still very thirsty.
The next day was school and between every lesson I ran down to the kitchens to get myself a few glasses of water and once in the middle of each lesson, I would say I needed to the toilet but really go back to the kitchens for more. In essence, I was consuming two litres of water every twentyfive minutes. Sneaky... I won't lie but I actually enjoyed this bit. I was not much of a water drinker and now I could drink loads. I felt pleased. This did not last long. At the end of that week, I was off school for the holidays. In England we say Merry Christmas but in America, you say Happy Holidays and I can assure you that it was not.
I could not go out for more than five minutes without needing a drink or needing the toilet and a drink. This is no exaggeration because we went to a friends house just to drop off a Christmas card. They live two roads away and were not in so we just went there and back. When we arrived home, I was gasping for water. I could not sleep at night as I would have to drink 5 litres in one gulp (we have big bottles) to get to sleep but I would wake every 20 minutes or so to get more water or to go to the toilet.
I don't know how it happened but on Christmas day, I was only as ill as the day after Saint Paul's but this brief spell of goodness only lasted for that day. Each day after I got dramatically worse and worse and was sick on the night of the 30th December. This seems like nothing but I am never sick. I have probably been sick 4 times in my life now including that one.
The 31st, I ate nothing. I just drank and drank and drank and got seriously out of breath as I walked from my bed to my en-suite bathroom. I was gasping for air and water. I did not stay up to see in the New Year but fell asleep right away at eight o clock.
For the next few days, I am going to tell you what my family has told me. I have no idea what was happening as I was slipping into a coma. The rest of my 'familia' ( its a Latin word meaning the people who live in your house and only the family who live there. This includes slaves etcetera however my familia consists on my brother and parents) came upstairs and heard strange moaning from my bedroom. I was not conscious but I was gasping and moaning in my sleep. It was about an hour later when an ambulance arrived and took me away. BG? around 50-60mmol which I have found out to be 900-1080mg/dl.