Everyone thought I had lost my mind

My friends thought I was acting crazy. My coworkers did not know what to make of me. I was increasingly irritable. My clothes were falling off me. I was fatigued and thirsty all the time.  

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” one of the physician leaders said when he stopped by my office one day.

Meanwhile I was ordering grilled cheeses and French fries at the Kaiser cafeteria at work. Eating bowls of cereal in the middle of the night. I was ravenous and could not keep weight on.

 “If only the rest of my patients were as healthy as you,” my primary care doctor said while reviewing my lab results again. “Everything looks normal. Sodium levels are a little low. Try drinking Gatorade or coconut water. Your weight is still in range.” I had lost 40 pounds.

A couple years earlier I had struggled with an unexpected end to my marriage. I hired a herd of professionals to help me climb out of grief and move on. Nothing eased my overwhelming feelings of despair and shame around coworkers, friends, and my professional network that was the same as my ex-husband’s. I couldn’t hide it by leaving for another job with the ongoing attorney’s meetings, name change, tears in the conference room.

Instead of growing stronger, my irritability was getting deeper as I worked with more therapists and coaches.

What was wrong with me?

I owned a beautiful house in the Bay Area. I had a career in healthcare at the top medical group in the country. I was everyone’s bridesmaid. I could have had any guy chasing me down after my divorce.

One phone call changed my life. It was a Friday in July, 2019. I was so tired and thirsty that day. Earlier, I had an interview for another role at Kaiser and could barely get through it. “I hope he doesn’t notice I’m out of breath and can’t stop drinking water” I thought to myself. “This is so strange. I was just at my doctor’s office on Wednesday.”

“The ER doctor wants you to come in,” the advice nurse said. I had called complaining again. I was out of breath packing up my laptop and walking a few blocks at work.

My sister just left for South America for the year. My parents were on a road trip celebrating retirement.

In the ER, the doctor looked at me slightly suspiciously, listening to my long list of issues. She came back 20 minutes later, surprised. 

“I was not expecting to tell you this,” she said.

I was admitted to the ICU that evening. The first night of a 4-day hospital stay. I was in diabetic ketoacidosis.

“Diabetic what?” I asked. 

“DKA,” she said.

I was 34 years old. That was the first time any doctor had given me a blood glucose test, the hospital doctor confirmed.

My A1C was 13.2. Normal is less than 6.0. I wasn’t making enough insulin to survive anymore and my body was slowly in the process of shutting down.

“Insulin?” I thought to myself. “Do I know what that is?”

“When does it go back?” I asked her. “When will everything go back to normal?”

She just looked at me, in her blue scrubs.

Normal life – whatever that is – was over. Gone. Not coming back.

I understand what it is like when your life changes instantly. When chapters you are writing catch on fire. I know what it is like to experience loss and grieve so intensely I could not make decisions with my own best interest in mind. I know what it is like to have a bustling social network where not one person truly relates. I know feelings of shame and isolation that paralyze.

I’m on a mission to help people with diabetes step off of their roller coaster and onto the escalator of building a healthy, purpose-driven life.

Normal life – whatever that is – was not over, in fact.

It arrived in a new form when I uncovered my unique recipe and took back control. My life started blooming in a profound way after the wildfire cleared and I discovered what would give me enough courage to rebuild.

Diabetes is a life of Health First And it is a life of discovery, curiosity, the journey inward, humor, connection, love, and surprise.