Many people grow up having a normal childhood, I being one of them. I grew up living in a warm, and welcoming household with my mother, father, and older brother. As a child, we all thought we had no worries in the world. Everything was peaceful and taken care of by our parents. We all eventually grow up, and have to become more responsible. With these responsibilities come more opportunities to have struggles in your life. Most struggles are small and short-termed. To others, their struggles have to be dealt with every day. As said before, I had a pretty normal life growing up. I was enjoying elementary, learning amazing new thigs and having fun with my friends. It was all going great until near the end of 3rd grade. At the beginning of
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It was a regular day at school, except I felt really bad. I could barely get through the morning, when I threw up. My mom instantly picked me up and we went home. I laid down and rested while my mom called the doctors. She had made an appointment earlier, but it was in late May. She demanded to have an appointment today and they had an opening. We quickly drove to the doctors, and the drive there were the last moments of a “normal life” for me. When we arrived to the doctors, they attended me immediately. We talked to the doctor about my symptoms and he looked like he already knew what was wrong with me. He ran some tests and pricked my finger. That was the first prick of many. When he came back, by the look of his face I knew it was something bad. He sat down and told us that some tests weren’t normal. My blood sugar was sky high, in the 400’s, and that I had a disease called diabetes. Type one diabetes to be exact. He quickly explained what happened to me and my body, and how my pancreas failed to work. I started to cry and so did he. My mom tried to be strong but I could see she was sad and scared. I was admitted to the hospital, and was put in a gown. As a kid, no one, especially me, didn’t like needles. But I had to get used to
It was a regular day at school, except I felt really bad. I could barely get through the morning, when I threw up. My mom instantly picked me up and we went home. I laid down and rested while my mom called the doctors. She had made an appointment earlier, but it was in late May. She demanded to have an appointment today and they had an opening. We quickly drove to the doctors, and the drive there were the last moments of a “normal life” for me. When we arrived to the doctors, they attended me immediately. We talked to the doctor about my symptoms and he looked like he already knew what was wrong with me. He ran some tests and pricked my finger. That was the first prick of many. When he came back, by the look of his face I knew it was something bad. He sat down and told us that some tests weren’t normal. My blood sugar was sky high, in the 400’s, and that I had a disease called diabetes. Type one diabetes to be exact. He quickly explained what happened to me and my body, and how my pancreas failed to work. I started to cry and so did he. My mom tried to be strong but I could see she was sad and scared. I was admitted to the hospital, and was put in a gown. As a kid, no one, especially me, didn’t like needles. But I had to get used to