Dieuhbeatus and Keytoeassuhdoseus

This past Saturday evening I was rushed to the emergency room for complications with my diabetes.

The night before I had gone to see John Mayer at Madison Square Garden with my best friend Chloe, as I have talked about on my previous blog. Everything was great, the show was amazing (he is most DEFINITELY my future husband); but after the concert I had rushed to give myself my night time insulin injection in my arm. Well, the needle rejected in my arm causing the insulin to ooze out and spatter blood all over me like a cut off zombie head. Not a pretty scene. But because of this, I didn't know how much insulin my body had actually absorbed and did not want to chance retaking the full dosage just in case some did.

The next morning I woke up with a HI bloodsugar (my meter won't read over a bloodsugar of 500. The normal range for non diabetics is 70 to 130. Mine is 80 to 150). I'm used to my bloodsugar fluxuating drastically; the past five years or so since I've hit puberty has been pretty haywire.

Over the course of the day and night I got increasingly sicker; my bloodsugar would not come down and my ketones (level of sugar spilling into my bloodstream) had increased drastically. I was doing everything in my power to avoid going to the hospital, since it's never fun, but by sunday afternoon I was breathing extremely rapidly, my skin was turning purple (because my bloodflow was not circulating properly), I had gone through at least two gallons of water in one day and could barely walk accross the room without feeling like I was going to pass out.

So I called my mom from work around four thirty, and within the hour were sitting in the Long Island Jewish Medical Center Emergency Room Trioge.

Because of the severity of my conditions I was rushed into a room and an IV of saline (salt water) was put on me to start flushing out the ketones. A normal level of ketones (glucose in the blood) is 8 to 12. When I entered the ER my ketone level was approaching 26, which is considered Ketoacidosis or Hyperglycemic Shock. Apparently I came pretty close to having a heart attack, which is really scary considering I'm not even 19 yet.

Soon after they started running several different blood tests (electrolites, magnesium, etc.) which was complete torture because my veins roll every time they go near me with the butterfly needle.
One test they FORGOT to run, pottassium, which is one of the most important to run since ketoacidosis lowers possassium levels signifacantly and dangerously, they had to take more blood.
After about an hour of waiting, and the two Residents pacing back in forth in front of my door like headless chickens saying I needed this test, finally told the Nurse.

Because my left arm had the IV with the saline drip, and my other arm and wrist whad failed to produce juicy veins, Dr. Goss (or as I like to call him, Dr. GROSS) insisted on using my right hand. When that didn't work and my vein "blew" Dr. Gross and his legent of residents started to insist that they needed to do a blood gas or ultrasound. Both my mother and the nurse refused to let them do a bloodgas which are extremely painful.

So the nurse, Carol (a loudmouth Brooklyn-Long Island- Queens type of woman) snapped at Dr. GROSS and co. to go in through the same IV port as the saline drip, which was now an insulin drip to balance me out.
Dr. GROSS disapeared and nurse Carol took over yelling at the Residents to get her a needle and tubes for the blood like they were five. They basically coward in the corner until she proclaimed, "Do you wanna come over here to watch and do this, because I already know how". They didn't know which direction to turn. Nurse carol drew the blood and made one of the Residents put the blood in the tube, but when she forgot to cap off the port, nurse Carol snapped "Are you going to cap it off or do I have to do that for you too?". The Resident did it, shakily and ran out of the room with the blood.

Apparently nurse Carol was told off by Dr. GROSS about interjecting and overriding him but she told us that she has teenage daughters so she understands and it was well worth it.

After that hell and discovering that my pottassium levels were extremely low, every few hours I was forced to injest two huge pottassium pills. They were so large, approximately the size of a knickel, that they had to break them into four small pieces.

A few hours later, of just waiting around pretty much, they moved me upstairs to the ICU (Intensive Care Unit) so I could be more closely monitored. By that time it was already about two or three in the morning.
By this time the ketones had less-ened but not completely. My levels of electrolites, pottassium and magnesium were still very low so I was put on a magnesium drip as well as an insulin drip of regular fast acting insulin and a dextros drip (sugar drip, yet again, to balance out the insulin). My bloodsugar was still a bit high, mostly because they had taken me off Lantus (the long acting insulin) and were monitoring me with fast acting, which only lasts a certain amount of time.

By this point I hadn't eaten anything since early Saturday morning so I was finally allowed a sandwhich. My rapid breathing had finally simmered, as well as my heartrate and bloodpressure being back to normal levels.

I spent a full two days in the ICU undergoing more bloodtests (through the same IV port, thank god), vitals and bloodsugar being checked every two hours.
The first morning I was finally put back on Lantus, the long acting insulin. I was finally moved out of the ICU to a different floor with my own personal room and bathroom!
When you are in the hospital for a few days, not being able to take a full shower and have to share a single bathroom with a whole floor of other patients, it's the most exciting thing in the world to have your own. Especially with my ocd. It's almost like an honor in the hospital to get your own room with your own bathroom, actually. I was just glad to not be attatched to the heart monitor anymore and eat regular food.

Continuing on, I was visited by a plethora of nurses and endocronologists. One in particular who insisted "their" methods were the best and basically attacked me for not wanting to be on the insulin pen instead of injections.

I kindly explained (which in all honesty, was hard for me to do), that, the pen is just not for me. I don't like that everything has to be preplanned with it and when you insert it, however many units you take you have to keep it in you for that number of seconds. If I'm on 60 units of Lantus, I do not want to hold that thing in my stomach or arm for a full minute.

I was then attacked about the insulin pump (a beeper-like contraption that pumps insulin through an IV-like tube attatched to you by a small cathera). I then explained this is also not for me. I don't like the idea of something being attatched to me twenty-four-seven, nor do I want the risk of infection or worse calcium deposits then I already have. Plus I've heard more horror stories about the pump, exactly for the same reasoning, then I have great ones.

So call me oldschool, but I like the "freedom" of my syringes.

Now, I am not being dramatic when I say this big shot Endo-Res attacked me, because she basically argued with me that I have to do these things and I have no sense whatsoever. You know, because, I haven't been a diabetic for almost 18 years.

I guess that's beside the point though. I've been to a lot of hospitals, and a lot of doctors, residents and nurses to know that with someone like that, they aren't going to hear what the others have to say, or, pretty much, what you have to say.

I was thinking about transferring over to LIJ for the endo team there because it's closer to home now, but they don't accept my insurance. Apparently that bothered this endo-Res so much that she stormed out of the room too. Which put a really bad taste in my mouth.
So I'm going to stick out the treck to Columbia to see the best endo I've ever had, Barney Softness.
When he speaks I can't concentrate becuse he sounds exactly like Jack Nicholson and I picutre Jack ripping through the wall in The Shining. heh.

After being interrogated by the endo's and such, we had another problem on our hands. When they brought my food, which had to be monitored, they weren't bringing my insulin with it. Because I'm on fast acting and it only lasts about a two hour period, if I don't take it when I eat this causes my bloodsugar to spike. I had already waited two hours from when they checked my bloodsugar and told me it was meal time, so I had to wait now another hour now to get my insulin after my meal? Makes no sense.

It's this weird thing where in one sense they want to rush you out of the place, but then they hold you down there because of pure laziness so they can perform more of their science projects on you. Like in the ER; Dr. GROSS only wanted to do the bloodgas to show the residents and give them a chance to practice doing it.

Well, I ain't no test monkey.

Also, but more importantly, the two IV ports had also still been in my left arm since the night of the emergency room. They kept flushing them so they were ok to take blood from if they needed too, but because they were attatched for so long my whole hand and arm swelled like I had elephantitus and I wasn't able to move them at all. My other hand, from Dr. GROSS's arrogant mistake also blew up and is entirely bruised underneath the skin. I'm still in a lot of pain from both and basically can't lift anything or open bottles and such yet.

By Wednesday afternoon, after all my Labs and tests had come back normal and we were yet again just waiting and waiting around for answers, my mother finally freaked on the nurses to take the IV's out and get a final answer as to if we could go home.
Funny that that's what it took to get one.

I was discharged within the hour.


So, I'll finally get to the final jist of the whole thing....before I do, I want to give more of an in depth description of what insulin is and how all this comes into play...

First, insulin itself is a hormone, and a natural steroid in the body; not a "medicine" as some like to call it. It is produced by an organ in your body called the pancreas, which also produces several other hormones. In diabetics, our pancreas does not produce the insulin beta cells. Insulin allows glucose (sugar) to pass into your cells so it can then be transferred and then used and burned for energy. This is why I take injections. The synthetic insulin that diabetics use used to be made from pork cells, but is now made from actual human dna.

The reason I check my bloodsugar, or "finger/arm-prick" is to check the miligrams of sugar in the bloodstream so I can try to keep it at a good balance with the insulin.

Like I've explained, I'm on a fast acting insulin called Humolog which covers my carb intake and bloodsugar level for a two hour period of time.

I'm then on a long lasting insulin called Lantus. Lantus is a long acting insulin that keeps the steady flow of glucose in your bloodstream active for a 24-hour period. I am on a very large dose of 60 units so mine is broken up into two injections of 30 units every twelve hours (twice a day).

This is what a non diabetics body does naturally. In fact, as soon as you put a piece of food in your mouth and it hits your toungue, your insulin is already starting to kick in.

So, the nitty gritty of it all is this:

MY body in particular has an overactive adrenaline gland, which is activated by stress, tedious amounts of excersise, etc.. Adrenaline as well as insulin is also one of the body's natural steroids, so when they clash it causes the insulin to resist and sends my bloodsugar skyrocketing. It also increases my level of Estrogen, causing it to resist even more.
Apparently this is due to my age and should start to level out within the next few years, until around 21.

My main problem is with my injection sites. Because I take so many injections on a daily basis (8+) it gets hard to try and rotate the spots where I physically inject. Calcium deposits start to form under the skin, which is basically like a wall of resistance against it. They start out small and soft like tissue, but over time grow bigger and harden. I've seen one where it was like a baseball under the skin. Gross. I would never let it get that bad, ever. But sometimes you just don't know where they are when you inject and it hurts like hell.

That saturday night after the concert when I had rushed to take my Lantus, I had hit one in my arm and is why it didn't work. I now try to avoid using my upper left arm for this reason and am now not allowed to use my stomach at all.

It's also why you'll never see me in a two piece bathing suit. I'm usually proud of scars, they're symbolic of life experiences, but not these. These are more like war scars of a wounded soldier that won't heal.

I think with my vagabond lifestyle the past few years; jumping from Vegas, Arizona, Chicago, Upstate, Rockaway, moving several times, working twelve hour days, five, six days a week for three months straight at the tattoo shop...once I settled down recently and finally weeded out the bad, stagnant energy in my life, my body finally caved in.

It's definitely been a wakeup call.

Now I'm on a mission to become as healthy as I possibly can be. As much as I hate it and always tried to work against it, for my own stupid reasons, I'm going to try to stick to more of a schedule. Get up early, make sure to check my bloodsugar every two hours, be stricter with my portion control, take the vitamins and whatnot my body needs to get back and stay on track, get off my lazy ass and excersise more.

I know it's all a mental thing really. Saying it is one thing, it's easy, but sticking to it is something completely different.
I'd like to think I'm at a different place, stage, phase, whatever you want to call it, where I'm past the immaturity of trying to resist responsibility. And the denial of knowing that's exactly where I was in my head a few months back.

To be honest, I don't think I've been the greatest friend or most proffessional either. I've been really flakey with plans and "deadlines" so to speak. I feel really bad about that. But some days I'm so drained from my bloodsugar fluxuating that it's hard to get out of bed.

To be even more honest, I haven't had the urge or energy to make art or to write a lot. If I'm going to create something and put it out farther than the confines of my sketchbook or notebook, it has to be perfect in my eyes. Lately it's all been forced and shitty.

Although there is a never-ending list of all these things I plan to do, this time around though I'm going to pace myself and not overwhelm myself with everything.
For a long time I felt like so much in my life was delayed, and by trying to get back on track and speed things up, I lost myself and my control.

The next few days I'm going to take the time to rest and heal; my body is still completely swollen and drained. Hopefully by some point next week I'll be able to lift things and move around again.

I'm also looking for a new tattoo shop, if anyone reading this knows of an artist and/or shop who'd be willing to take on an apprentice. I have a year's worth of experience and a full portforlio of artwork.


Thank you all for reading, and your support and love.