I had just started the job of my dreams as a visual merchandiser. We were hanging up the Christmas garlands for Hackett London on Sloane Square. I turned to my manager and said I have to go to hospital. He looked shocked, the busiest night of the year and I'm pulling a sicky. My insides felt like they were going to explode. I had been ignoring the pain all week but tonight was different. I headed to Chelsea and Westminster A&E. The doctors could not for the life of them work out what was wrong with me. With 3 days in hospital and numerous tests I was sent home. I can honestly say that there is nothing more frustrating than being told there is nothing wrong with you when you are in agony. I then received a phone call from a trainee doctor who told me they think I'm diabetic and to go straight back to hospital.
I had just moved to east London a couple of weeks earlier so found myself in an unfamiliar part of London. Ive never felt so alone as I did when I sat in Homerton A&E. My parents were on holiday, my two brothers were out of London otherwise they would have been there in a shot. Unfortunately this was something I had to do alone, I would like to say it made me stronger and made me who I am today. But I can't , it broke me. Sat alone with no one coming still hurts to this day.
I woke up in Homerton hospital with a nurse called Mariam holding insulin pens at the end of my bed. She softly explained that I would have to learn to inject myself 4 times a day. Prick my finger to draw blood and take blood tests daily. Learn how to control hypo's (low glucose) and hypers (high glucose) . I had been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, which my pancreas no longer produced insulin.
This was too much information to take in. How can I get diabetes at 26? How did this happen? Why did no one realise before. Looking back now I believe my diabetes was brought on by auto immune disease. Often triggered by a trauma, your body starts to attack itself and can damage vital organs. My life at that point was already up in the air. I had broken up with my boyfriend of 4 years, my grandmother who I was very close to sadly passed away. I decided to move up East to escape a previous life that I didn't fit into anymore. Could stress have really been a factor into my body attacking itself?