Revision

I choose my Personal Narrative because it could be improved on the most. It was my first paper, and I did not do that well on it. I could now apply everything that I learned throughout the year to this paper. I wanted to make this paper better by focusing on voice and organization. These were my two weakest sections of this particular piece. The changes to these areas of focus made the paper less confusing and more vivid, both physically and emotionally. The other thing that these changes accomplished was that I fixed many of the tense errors in the paper. There were a lot of them so that change should contribute the most out of all the aforementioned changes.

Personal Narrative Revised:

My Diabetic Adventure

            I am riding in the car on the way home from the movies. We get home, and I open the back door. My mom does the same and my leg is hit by her door. My leg is throbbing, and I see an instantaneous bruise which is shifting from blue to black. I feel the pain; it feels like being hit by a train at an excruciatingly low speed. The bruise on my left thigh is getting worse by the second. My mom, who is a doctor, is worried that I might have some blood disease or something of the sort because I was named after a patient of hers who died from leukemia. She recommends that I get blood work at her office. I have the blood work done, and the bruise is fine. This is where my diabetic adventure begins.

I woke up the next morning and went to school as always. I left early to get my blood drawn. This was the first time I had ever had blood drawn, and I was nervous and uncertain. The room is what you would think of at a doctor’s office except that it is long and skinny. There were blood collection tubes and medications everywhere. The room had a new white coat of paint that gave off a bright and happy feeling; however, my mood was not represented by the color of the room.

Mrs. Ava, the person that is to retrieve my blood, tells me, “This will only hurt a little.”

She is right. There is minimal pain, and I stop bleeding in about a minute. I inspect the blood recently drawn from my body and it looked perfectly ok, but looks can be deceiving as this narrative will demonstrate later.

I waited until my mother came into her office, and she told me, “your blood glucose level is 234.”

She explained to me that my blood glucose was higher than normal, and I might of had diabetes.

She said, “We will know for sure when the tests come back.” Being the typical 10-year-old that I was, I still hoped for the best. That hope was soon crushed by the reality of the situation. Once the test were back, my parents broke the news in the living room. That day it felt more like a dying room.

The weather was appropriately gloomy and represented the bad news to come on that day. While  watching YouTube, my mom and dad called me to the living room. Those moments, that seemed trivial at the time, would be my last moments of being a typical boy. I sat down on the black leather couch.  My parents were ready with the proof. They showed me the lab results, and I could already tell that I had diabetes. I could not move from the shock of it all. It felt like I lost a part of me, which, ironically, I actually had. Part of my pancreas was not working anymore. This was where my dad came in.

            My dad is an endocrinologist. This type of doctor specializes in hormones. The substance I was missing was the hormone insulin. My father told me that I developed diabetes at an earlier than some other people; I was shocked. My dad took me through what I would have to do for the rest of my life. He told me that I would have to take shots of insulin three times a day or more. I would have to stick myself with a needle. I had to start these shots immediately, so there was no time to get adjusted to them. This news was devastating to my emotionally immature 4^th-grade self. I did not know what to do, but thankfully my parents had it under control.  Insulin was the substance I was injecting into my body. It was a clear, runny substance that smelled like a doctor’s office. I would be familiar with this substance for the entirety of my life.

There were two more caveats in caring for my diabetes. I had to monitor my food intake and check my blood sugar. The food aspect of diabetes was the easiest part for me. For the first few months, it was like a guessing game. I inputted the number of carbohydrates you are eating into a formula that gives you an amount of insulin. You administer the insulin and see if everything went well. The more time that went by the better I became at knowing how much insulin to give myself for the food I ate. Checking my blood sugar was a lot more painful than I expected. I, essentially stuck my finger with a tiny knife known as a lancet. I thus drew up blood in minute amounts from my finger to place on a stick, and put said stick into the machine and the machine gave me a number representing my blood sugar. This was painful and annoying because I checked at least four times a day and maybe more if I did not feel well. This resulted in more finger sticking then I would have liked, but it is what I had to do to keep myself healthy. The combination of managing my food intake, insulin dosing, and glucose checking was almost overwhelming as a newly diagnosed type 1 diabetic.   

            All diabetics have to go through the previously mentioned procedures, but some motivated diabetics get to upgrade to more advanced machinery. The machinery I am now using is called an insulin pump and glucose sensor combination. Most diabetics must wait a mandatory six months before they are allowed by their endocrinologist to use a pump. I had a loophole since my dad was an endocrinologist. He expedited the process for me. The pump gives me insulin, so I do not have to take shots. It took me about four months to transition from shots to a pump. Truthfully, it took so long to transition was that I was scared of this new device that would add even more changes to my life which had already been altered significantly by my diagnosis. I am glad my dad could do this because now I love my pump. This little blue device, that was about the size of a deck of cards, can dose insulin with a push of a button. The pump makes life so much easier. The only downside of this is I have a tube coming off of me. This tube was connected to a site that I had to replace once every three days. The tube was used as a highway for insulin to get from my pump to the site. You can think of this site as a port where the insulin is to be delivered. This is better than taking shots so many times a day. At first, it was a little weird and could hurt if a person tugged on the tube. I used to conceal this small, clear tube because I was self-conscience. Then I embraced my disorder and did not care anymore. People asked, and I would tell them what the tube did and how it functioned. The glucose sensor is a load of help as well. It automatically takes blood sugar readings every five minutes. I must replace the sensor once every week, but it beats sticking myself four times or more a day. The best part of this device is that it is wireless. It connects to my phone, so I always have my blood sugar levels when I need them, and it will alert me when my blood sugar goes awry. I still have to calculate the amount of carbohydrates in my food manually, but this is the easiest part of the job, so I am ok with that.

 When I came to Episcopal, I was embraced and no one made fun of me. This feeling was somewhat new to me because previously some people thought I was weird. When I passed people in the hallways at my old school, they looked at me as if I was some extraterrestrial being. Some asked me if I was a robot. At Episcopal, I no longer have to deal with those kinds of questions. I made many friends here, and one of them, Celia, has a story similar to mine. She is now one of my best friends. We were brought together by the fact that we both have diabetes. She is one of two people with whom I share a bond. I met many of my friends through Celia. These new friends didn’t alienate me because I had a tube attached to me. They accept me for who I am, and I am very glad for that. The other person that I shared a diabetic bond with is my father. My dad also has type 1 diabetes. He was diagnosed when he was 17. This strengthened my relationship with my father, and I now understood what he had to go through his whole life. This is a bond that few people share with each other, so I am privileged to have that bond with my father.

            Diabetes was a hard thing to deal with at first. With time, the process became easier. It is like owning a dog for the first time. You think, “What have I gotten myself into?” Then after a year or two it gets better, and after a few years you're a professional at it. I learned to deal with having diabetes. I actually learned to embrace it. I had some helping hands along the way, and I needed them. I realized that if this is the only disorder I have then I am in pretty good shape. Many illnesses could have been a lot worse, but diabetes turned out for the better because it can be managed, unlike some other diseases. My diabetic adventure will end when I do, but I will continue to soldier on facing its challenges.