Skye Clark

I was 11 years old and I was just sick one day. Your typical stomach bug — vomiting, fatigue, chills, etc.. A few days sick and I wasn’t getting better. A few weeks sick and I still wasn’t getting better. I’m always thirsty. I’m always peeing. I can’t keep a bite of food down. I’m losing weight fast. My dad is proud of my weight loss, I was always a chubby kid. He accuses me of faking being sick because no one can be sick this long and sends me to muck the horse stalls. He tells this story like he’s the hero, justifying the labor probably lowered my blood sugar and kept me alive. My mom thought I was depressed and sent me to my grandparents. I couldn’t hold my bladder the entire 2 hour car ride but my grandma said I was too old to be caught peeing on the side of the road. I soiled their car. A week with my grandparents and they demanded my parents take me to the hospital. I had the flu for 2 months now. My mother takes me to our small town hospital where the doctor took one look at my frame and ordered a care flight to take me to the larger hospital an hour away. I weighed 42 lbs. My parents refused the emergency services because of the cost. They’ll drive me themselves. An ambulance followed behind, in case I needed emergency services in transit. I stayed in the ICU for 5 days, in and out of consciousness. I remember my mom crying, always crying. I remember nurses scolding my parents, saying the longest they’ve seen a kid survive ketoacidosis without medical intervention is 2 weeks. The 15 year old boy in the bed next to me was in ketoacidosis for 2 weeks before he was admitted in a diabetic coma. I don’t know if he ever made it out of the ICU. I was recovering and moved to a room in the hospital. It was then I was told I was type 1 diabetic and the doctor tried their best to explain the weight this diagnosis held to an 11 year old girl. Over the next week I practiced walking again on legs that were too malnourished to hold me. I learned how to count carbs and got over my fear of injecting myself. I saw lots of family members and received lots of gifts. I could hold down food and water again. But I never recovered. I went home sick. I’m 25 now and I’m still sick. I have medical devices taped to my body. My fridge and cupboards hoard my medicine. My blood sugar levels dictate what I can do, eat, drink. My energy levels never recovered. My immune system is compromised so I catch colds often and watch every knick and scrape turn into a scar. I grew up faster than I wanted to. When everyone else jumped in the pool I checked my blood sugar, disconnected my pump, stored it somewhere the insulin wouldn’t over heat, and god forbid I forgot the cap to cover my infusion sight. Now I have a job, a husband, a dog and two cats. I love my life and I’m happy to live it, but above all the happiness I can create for myself, I will always be sick.