Rumors

I knew something was wrong but couldn't figure out what.  The signs were gradual, making it difficult to distinguish between thirst that is impossible to quench because of a hot summer day or extreme dehydration, going to the bathroom every half hour because of the quantity I was drinking or because my body was not retaining anything I gave it.  Contrary to popular belief, I did not have an eating disorder.  Because I have a malfunctioning pancreas, my body was unable to produce insulin to properly use any carbohydrates I fed it for the energy I needed.  Instead, it decided to put all that sugar into my blood and break down anything else I decided to eat.  Whether it was my green apples, my broccoli, my Hewlett yogurt, or my mini muffins, it was all being broken down incorrectly while I wasted away.

Again, it started out slow.  A pound here, a pound there.  I'm a runner, I'm the daughter of a dietitian for G-d's sake!  It wasn't that weird.  However, it started seeming drastic.  Inside I knew it wasn't normal, but I wasn't sure how to verbalize my problem.  I'm too skinny?  I can't stop losing weight?  It seemed like every girl's dream.  I felt silly complaining about it.  But I knew I was not ok.  It wasn't until a few good, no, AMAZING, friends began confronting me about my "eating disorder" that my consuming thoughts became a reality.  Although the diagnosis was incorrect, I admire the courage these friends had to address their concerns with me.  Whether it was in your blunt and lovingly harsh manner in a dressing room (you know who you are), or through your tears of worry (you also know who you are), I will never forget the look in your eyes and the love I felt.  It was because of this that I knew I could count on you when the true diagnosis was revealed.  To my honest, loyal friends who approached me in a direct and respectful way - I can't thank you enough.  It's because of you that I began seeking help and the search for an answer.
Getting up at a minimum of 4 times a night to go to the bathroom and chug a bottle of water, going to work each morning with an unquenchable thirst, dragging myself to and from my apartment for whatever "task" I needed to complete.  The symptoms were so clear.  I was a textbook example.  But because of my ignorance I had no idea how obvious these indicators were.  The worst part was I knew how much I was being talked about, I think that was the most traumatic of all.  I was consumed with having to gain weight.  The amount of times I would be amongst friends that I knew were thinking about how frail I looked or watching what I was eating created a feeling of insecurity I never knew I was capable of feeling.  So to those of you who talked about me, ummmm... no thanks?
I will never forget the weeks leading up to the answer.  They were horrible.  To know unquestionably that something is wrong with you but to not know what.  I don't know why I didn't speak up.  I always think, had I gone for a checkup just a few weeks earlier, it may not have had to happen the way it did.  The whole episode is sometimes unbelievable to me.  I am amazed at how long I allowed myself to go on feeling the way I did.  Weak, depressed, lonely, breakable, and THIRSTY!!  I was told I was a ticking time bomb.