by Amanda Jones
ribena, very strong
She lay on the couch. For days there had been so many visits to the loo and a thirst which ravaged her relentlessly. Just a virus, nothing to worry about, the doctor said. Yet here she was, unable to move, exhausted.
So it was a huge relief when the dark came. Sweeping over her it seemed to take on a life of its own. It was a strangeness. Lying there with nothing but darkness. In limbo. Between worlds.
It was 1959, she was ten years old. The ambulance rushed her into hospital, but she was still in the dark. Nothing.
Only when the insulin came did she awaken. Diabetic Ketoacidosis they said. Nearly died. A diabetic coma. They taught her how to inject using big, metal syringes and to test her sugar levels in her urine. And there was still the pain.
It is strange how it all became normal so quickly.
This was the beginning of a journey. Very high blood sugar at the start when her pancreas failed to produce insulin meant a very long, chronic illness ahead.
What would she do? How did she manage? What were her dreams?
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