Since my Diagnosis

When my last post ended, I was a 12 year old kid, very confused. I didn’t know what diabetes was all about. I didn’t know why I had it. I didn’t even know which kind of diabetes I had.
Almost immediately I switched practices. The new doctor, Dr. R. ordered a whole ton of tests to determine what type of diabetes I had. After a while, he gave my mother a definite diagnosis. "Your daughter has type 2 diabetes."
It is a bit of a mystery to me as to which tests he did that he was so sure, but in truth I think my weight and my family history, coupled with my insulin resistance influenced him. And so I had a diagnosis. Not very relevant in terms of my treatment, which remained the same, but I guess it made my mother feel more settled.
Thus began my years as a “type 2” diabetic. Of all the doctors that I will gripe about, Dr. R. was the worst. He made me feel like I ate my way into diabetes. He, and other doctors made me feel like all I had to do was loose a few pounds and I would be able to throw all my insulin out the window.
And so, as a young girl of 12, I was haunted by this thought: “YOU caused YOURSELF diabetes.”
“It’s YOUR fault!”
“It’s YOUR fault!”
“It’s YOUR fault!”
“It’s YOUR fault!”
"It’s YOUR fault!"
Again and again, this would echo in my mind.
I used to go to support groups as a child, and I used to WISH I would be type 1. While type 1 is generally considered “worse” I was jealous that they could say they did not do anything to get diabetes, and that they could not have prevented it. I, on the other hand, ate my way onto insulin injections (or so I was made to feel).
It went on like this for 7 and a half years. I drifted from endocrinologist to endocrinologist, always in terrible control of my diabetes. Always having a complex about my diabetes.
A few months ago, I was finally starting to get over my complex. I was accepting my life as a type 2 diabetic.
I decided to take a new handle on my control, and I went to yet another new endocrinologist.
They asked me what kind of diabetes I have, and, not knowing about Dr. R’s “definite” diagnosis of type 2, I answered: “I don’t know”. Then I explained. I told them that it was generally assumed that I was type 2, just because of my weight, but I had never been diagnosed for sure.
So they decided to do a few more tests.

I went for some blood tests, and forgot about it completely.

That’s why I had such a shock when the doctor called a few weeks later.
"Hello, It’s Dr. do and so calling. We have the results of your blood test and you came back positive for two kinds of antibodies. That means you don’t have type 2 diabetes."
My heart is pounding.
“W-W-W-What?” I stammered. “What type of diabetes DO I have?”
“You have type 1 diabetes with insulin resistance, sometimes known as double diabetes”, Replied the doctor. Then she said the 8 most beautiful words I have ever heard: “You did not get diabetes from being overweight”

Wow. All those years, all the guilt, the complex, for nothing. I have an auto-immune disease that could not have been prevented.

I will write more about my feelings on the type1/type2 business, but now it’s late and I am tired…and I have to go change my set…