"I am concerned that without a management plan in place, you won't make it to your June 3rd appointment...We need to get you in with a specialist sooner...And you need to know what are signs of an emergency..."

The past couple of months have been… a lot. I lost a ton of weight really quickly, had blurry vision, bounced between doctors and specialists, got misdiagnosed a few times, was even told I was at high risk of dying young and at one point, there was actual concern I might not make it to my specialist appointment scheduled for June 3rd.

Obviously, the above synopsis is a lot to take in, even worse to live through it.

Thankfully, folks took it upon themselves to get my appointment moved up, and that’s where I started to get answers. After all the fear and confusion, I’ve been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes and in a state of severe prolonged Hyperglycemia.

Getting here wasn’t easy. There were times I genuinely wondered if this was how my story ends. Will I ever meet my person? Will I get the chance to show my family the life they’ve dreamed of? Will I just become a memory my nephews hear stories about? Will I ever have a family of my own? What legacy am I even leaving behind? What was all my effort for? Thanks to the insistence of my mother and sister that I get bloodwork done—and a random doctor who took up my case, whether out of true care or real fear for me—I finally have answers. My blood sugar levels were dangerously high for a prolonged period. I now wear a continuous glucose monitor on my arm that links directly to a team at St. Michael’s, one of the best diabetes clinics in Canada. Medical appointments will be a constant and I take multiple insulin shots every day and will be doing so for the rest of my life. Crossbody bags will now be a staple part of my wardrobe (especially if food is involved).

Am I fully out of the woods yet? No. But for the first time in a while, the path forward is clearer.

More than the medical diagnosis, this experience forced me to face my own mortality. That changes a person. My outlook on life is different now. My priorities have shifted. My patience for BS is at an all-time low. I’ll speak my truth with my whole chest—and my non-functioning pancreas.

I will turn this into something positive. I will use it as motivation.

Thank you to everyone who has been with me on this journey so far. I appreciate you more than words can express.



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