It was the beginning of the end of the enigma that had been plaguing me for months.
It was our last weekend in our first UWS apartment and we decided to host a Friday night meal to commemorate the year. We were emotional, nostalgic, excited for the next stage, and I was feeling all around shitty. I had a cold, a sore throat, I couldn't walk a block without running into a Starbucks to use their bathroom. I would get stressed walking to the park on a Saturday afternoon for fear that I wouldn't be able to make it to the dirty bathrooms by the baseball field, only a few minute walk from the Great Lawn. But I was excited for Friday night. Good friends, good food, good drinks.
The dinner was a success but I knew something was wrong when I literally couldn't move from my bed to help my roommates and closest friends clean up from our meal. They told me to go to bed and not to worry, that they would take care of it. So I went to bed only to be woken up 2 hours later with the most severe chest pain I had ever experienced. I couldn't move, I couldn't breath. I tried to reposition myself to make the pain go away but it hurt even more. I wanted to call my mom but being that it was Friday night, I didn't want to wake them and worry them. I cried. I just laid in my bed and cried from the pain. I heard M go to the bathroom and jumped from my bed to meet her in the hall. After startling her, she calmly took out her computer and found a 24-hour clinic downtown, since I refused to go to the ER. However, after checking out this clinic, their strongest recommendation was to go to the Beth-Israel ER since chest pains were serious and felt I needed better attention. After a 4-hour wait with NYC's finest drunkards, I was sent home with a tremendous dose of Motrin. "You must have pulled a muscle lifting suitcases while getting ready to move", the doctor told me, and this was after I recited my rote list of symptoms. Idiots.
M and I tiredly went back uptown and straight into bed. We spent the rest of the day packing and moving suitcases back and forth between our old apartment and our new ones, 3 blocks up. With the help of S, most of my clothing was all moved to my new apartment and the movers would only have to move my furniture come Monday. That night we went to the movies. I went to the bathroom 3 times during the movie and drank two snapples during it.
More moving took place on Sunday and my family came in to help me out and take me out to dinner. The looks in their eyes when I opened the door and my frail body leading them into my apartment is unforgettable. I am pained by the stress I caused my mom. After the fact, she told me about her sleepless nights and how many times she was replaying the situation over in her head, trying to find an answer. We all went for dinner at a Kosher restaurant close by. Bathroom breaks: 4. Cups of water: 8.
They walked me back home and went back to Long Island after I promised to go for a checkup at the doctor the next day after the movers finished with my stuff. "Just make sure you're all better before you leave to Israel", my mom said. I agreed.
After the movers left, I lugged myself around the corner for a checkup at a new doctor. Again, I described to her my past few months in our get to know you session, but didn't really touch on the weight loss since that was being taken care of. But when she asked me if I had ever had an eating disorder, I couldn't lie. I explained to her that I was doing everything I could to gain weight, I had stopped exercising, was eating brownies and pizza every day, and really indulging.. "but the weight keeps coming off". I must have sounded like the most mindless fool. "Alright, I'll be right back", she calmly said to me. After checking my urine sample, she walked back in with a vague look on her face. "So we found sugar in your urine". "Is that bad?", I said. "Well, I know you're supposed to go to Israel in 2 days so we're going to do a finger prick (I didn't even know what that was), and get this under control as soon as possible". The D-word still hadn't been spoken. A nurse pricked my finger and put it into some sort of meter looking thing. Little did I know that meter looking thing was about to become my right-hand man.
WOOPS! TOO HIGH!! My blood sugar was unreadable. With a very calm face the doctor said it was time to call my mom. She felt horrible since I had just been in the emergency room but I needed to go back. I was in DKA - Diabetic Ketoacidosis. I left the office and immediately called S. Through my panting and crying she was able to make out my words and said she'd meet me in front of the ER. I went back to my apartment, got a couple of things, met a friend outside my apartment and got a cab to Mt. Sinai Emergency Room.
I was checked in before I got there since I was an "emergency" although I really had no idea that I was. All I kept seeing next to my name was "Newly Onset Diabetes". So that's what it was. Diabetes. What was Diabetes anyways?? Would this be a one time thing? How long would I be here for? I wasn't alone. S and D sat with me in the ER while I stuffed cookies in my mouth. "Um, Lanz, I don't think that's the best idea", S said. "I don't give a shit I'm starving", I said. I had no idea I was literally raising my blood sugar by the second. They took me in in a matter of minutes. Walking from the waiting room into the ER was chilling. Because of the closing of 2 other hospitals the ER was overcrowded, people and beds everywhere you looked. But I was treated like royalty. I was in DKA. I got a bed with a curtain!
D waited in front for my mom to come and S came in and snuck into the bed with me. I was immediately stuck with an IV, an insulin drip to bring down my blood sugar and saline for hydration. Going to the bathroom became even more of inconvenience since I had to drag around this huge machine with me every time I had to go (once every 45 min.-an hour I'd say at this point).
It was a long 24 hours in the ER. My mom and I were curled up together in the "pencil bed" for most of it. There was crying, laughing, our usual analysis. We exhausted the details of the preceding months and how obvious this should have been. I was being woken up on the hour for finger pricks and more insulin. I was responding to it. My blood sugar was coming down. My dad stayed with us until around 9 and then went home. My mom and I slept, or really just laid in that bed all night long. "Ya know, we only allow this in the pediatric unit", a nurse obnoxiously told us. "Well she's my baby!!", my mom yelled. My dad arrived back in the morning and obviously made his mark in Mt. Sinai's ER. Conducting traffic, responding to questions to people who thought he worked there, to which he clearly did not have the answers, and all around lightening the mood.
11 AM - Good News - she can eat! I was being declined any food since they needed to establish a fasting blood sugar. Once it was determined that yes, it is Type 1 Diabetes.. I was given a meal with a sliding scale of insulin. However, I was not being moved out of the ER yet. Technically I was admitted to the hospital the minute I entered the ER, but because it was overcrowded there was no real room for me upstairs. The doctors kept checking in with me in the ER but it was clearly not where they were comfortable treating patients and it was obviously not the best accommodations for a newly diagnosed diabetic. But we dealt with it. An endocrinologist came in to see me at one point with her Hermes bag and Prada shoes. "So you have diabetes", she began with. Talk about bedside manner. She did her best to teach me how to use a meter and give a shot of insulin in between the curtains of our tiny bed and I did my best to pay attention and understand. It was hard and overwhelming. I didn't understand the concept yet and was trying to memorize the task before me. I was beginning to realize this was going to be the rest of my life.
More good news - there is a bed for you upstairs!
At 4 PM the next day, a full 24 hours in the ER, I was being moved to a real room in the hospital. I felt like I was being checked into a hotel. Two of my oldest friends arrived at that moment. Their faces full of fear. But my mom, dad, and me were just super excited about my new living quarters for the next 4 days.
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