“Congratulations! You have a girl. She is quite heavy and could possibly be diabetic in the future…but Congratulations”
A caution in the moment of celebrations went unheard till the very girl grew into a stubborn chubby teen. This teen is me, Vinita, the writer of this blog post and this is my diagnosis story.
“Coming to the year 2012, the month of April. I had just commenced classes for my 12th Board exams and always played songs than reading books, loved eating chaat, and was quite a heavy sleeper (which, I still am). I would often fall asleep studying. While this was very common, it was equally uncommon how I would fall into a deep sleep in a few seconds during that time. Assuming it to be teenage drama, my mother and I brushed this behavior off. It was when I suddenly started missing my periods, we got a little worried as it wasn’t even exam time stress then. Finally, we decided to go to a gynecologist who told us to get a check-up done which led to me getting a blood test done. And another blood test. Followed by another blood test. The test results were something nobody at home expected or believed, no matter the number of tests I did. A week full of blood tests and needles poking didn’t change the fact - ‘I was diabetic at the age of 17'.
I was diagnosed as Type 2 Diabetic with my sugars being about 250-310 on average, where the normal value has to be below 120. While the medical records were serious, I never took them seriously. Like how the majority of the population pops a pill for their sugar, I did too. At 17, I was under medications that 40-year-old people were taking! The thrill of college life and the desire to contribute beyond books made me ignore my condition. People my age or around me didn’t have this condition and that made me ignore it furthermore. I tried to fit in ‘normal’ in spite of not being one. One led to the other, exams to internships, and eventually, I developed a hatred towards the pills, often avoiding them and avoiding all the consequences that could occur if I did not take care of myself while being a diabetic.
Since I always kept busy, my sleeping symptoms didn’t come as often, or just never got a chance. 4 years passed by and I moved into Master/University studies. Away from home meant becoming self-reliant. But away from home also took me away from my mother’s constant nagging over my health and I became irresponsible in many ways. While university was fun, we would work all day and night which meant skipping mess served meals and relying on processed food to meet deadlines. Coming back home meant gorging on all the Mumbai food I missed and slyly avoiding doctor visits. By this time, my sugars were always high, thus, becoming a point of pride for me as to how I could function normally even in this condition.
It was only a matter of time for the honeymoon to end. It’s during my second year that the symptoms started showing again, stronger than ever. I would fall asleep instantly in class, have trouble concentrating on work, would always crave food, and developed anxiety. Unaware then, but all these were symptoms of hyperglycemia, or simply, high sugars. Combine this with no care, skipping medications, and a high level of stress, I started experiencing constant weakness and burnout. But not all was sad. University made me question everything, and eventually, it came to question myself. Co-operative discussions with my roommates, friends, and analyzing my behavior made me face my condition head-on, something I never did. Neither did any of my doctors let me do, nor my parents. It was very hard for them to accept it as it was for me.
After 6 years of ignorance, living in the dark, and rejecting every nutrition plan, in the month of October 2018, I finally faced myself. My hatred for the condition, my reasons for not accepting the fact that I am a teen diabetic, I put all the factors into retrospect, which led to the birth of my first project crave innings which became the foundation of this support space and self-acceptance.
The path to self-acceptance is tough. No type has it easy. And the notion behind Type 2 is even worse. Many times, a juvenile type 2 is neither able to relate with Type 1 nor with the elderly population of Type 2. Torn in-between WhatsApp forwards of natural remedy and societal stigma to be ‘normal’ and ‘discreet’, the path is mentally draining than the blood tests. The needles are the easy part. It took me 6 years to start my journey. 8 years in, a lot has changed. But one major revelation is – You are never alone and someday you will realize-
you are stronger than your ups and downs."
Welcome to onetwogether.
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