The Hospital part 4 - No Parachute

The first time I got low blood sugar and inject insulin

This is the fourth of a five-part series about what it’s like to be in the hospital at sixteen years old diagnosed with type 1 diabetes (T1D), also known as insulin-dependent diabetes.

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No Parachute

I fall asleep in the hospital.

I fall through the immense sky, plummeting as the wind rushes through my hair, ringing in my ears. I panic. There is no parachute. I hear sleigh bells.

...Oh what fun it is to ride

In a one horse open sleigh, Hey!

Immense panic. Tingling in my mouth. Then, without warning, the earth becomes larger and larger and I begin to spin wildly out of control. Fear suddenly wraps around me like a faulty parachute. Faster and faster the ground becomes larger and I scream into the deafening wind.

I awake with a start, lying in the hospital bed, soaked in cold sweat. I need to eat. I can barely think. The white coats fly past me like angels' wings. My tongue and lips are numb and the white coats are putting something into my arm.

I actually see stars.

Sugar.