To love, or to hate?
By: Emelyne Carmen Ho
I woke up sweating profusely. I turned to check my clock and it was only 2am. I exhaled loudly as I wiped my tears away. It was only a nightmare. Nothing was real.
Calm down, Emelyne.
I was trembling and shaking as I made my way from my bed to my table, grabbing my blood glucose test kit in desperation. I needed closure and as I struggled to open the test strips container, my fingers trembled even more, spilling nearly half of my blood glucose test strips all over the table. It infuriated me even more, as I was already out of breath and fatigue was heavily overwhelming me.
Was this what dying felt like?
After struggling for a while, I finally managed to slip a strip into the meter machine and successfully pricked my finger to obtain some blood for the meter. I could hear my every heartbeat as I waited for the results. My stomach gurgled. That nauseous and bloated feeling overpowered me. I grabbed the trash can next to me just in case.
2.3mmoL/L. I sighed. Here goes again….
Hypoglycaemia or in layman’s term, low blood sugar level. Every Type 1’s nightmare. One slow move and we could possibly be driven to our deathbed. I’ve read about people dying in their sleep from this. Honestly, this is what scares me the most even up till today.
I stuffed some hard candy into my mouth. After 1 to 2 minutes, I still didn’t feel any better. It was taking way too slow and I was still out of breath and shaking horrifically. I was so frustrated. It even messed with my mood and emotions so much that every little thing around me even the slightest noise just seemed to irritate the hell out of me. I spat the half eaten candies out, immediately grabbed the can of Coca-cola from the cupboard and quickly chugged half of it down. I heaved a sigh of relief. I waited for a little while more to feel a whole lot better before taking in some bread and biscuits to sustain my blood sugar levels over the next few hours.
That was close. Never again, I promised myself. But we all know, that is beyond impossible.
I envied other normal people who never had to experience this.
So often, I wondered to myself, what did I do to deserve this?
So often, I had thoughts of wanting to just leave everything as it is when I had symptoms and wait to see what happens.
So often, I had thoughts of just sleeping and shrugging it off.
And so often, I had thoughts of how foolish I must have been to have been so desperate to want to be able to savour sweet foods back then, to the point whereby I intentionally injected myself with high amounts of insulin to trigger hypoglycaemic episodes within myself.
I hated myself so much.
I used to think that there was no point in telling people this because they would never understand how I feel. No one would truly be able to comprehend how tormenting this whole experience is. No one would probably even expect mere episodes like these to be this deadly.
Almost a decade has gone past, and of course, I still occasionally despise these episodes.
Being a fitness enthusiast now, it burdens me even more each time I fall into this abyss especially after my workouts. It messes up my clean diet plans, needing me to take in more unhealthy simple carbohydrates unnecessarily.
I was limited, after all. But, as cliche as it sounds, I decided that I wasn’t going to let this stop me. Especially not, after I discovered a whole new-level of irrevocable love for all my flaws and my other 4 medical conditions as well 2 years ago.
I was a survivor of all of them, and thus, I was going to embrace and survive this too.
Love, was the answer to everything after all.
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Title: To Love Or To Hate?
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Published Date: Sat, 11 Apr 2020 19:55:44 +0000
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