Highs and Lows
I can't remember a life without my diabetes. I only have one memory of being diagnosed: my mother crying hysterically while a man who I somehow knew to be my dad held her. Since then, things have gotten better. I've embraced my diabetes; it's a part of me now.
The Zeus cabin is empty as usual. I sling my backpack down onto my bunk, and look around my second home: Camp Halfblood.
I decide to go down to the basketball courts. Stopping to grab my diabetes kit, I make my way down there.
Someone's sitting with their back to me. When he turns, I recognize the face of Nico Di Angelo. And damn, he doesn't look so good.
"What's up, Nico?" I sit next to him on the bench.
"I don't know. Nothing." Nico says.
"Ah. Feeling okay?"
I know that's a risky question. Will is the only one who can ask if Nico is okay. And he's usually met with resistance. But today, well...
"No, not really. I'm so thirsty." Nico admits. "Tired. I feel like shit."
"Yeah?" I ask, studying Nico.
"Let's check your sugar. See if it's diabetes." I suggest. I'm scared for Nico; I don't want him to have to go through what I have to go through every day.
His sugar comes up 90 or 5.0 for you Europeans. Phew! He's not a diabetic.
"You have to do that every day?" Nico asks. I don't think he believes the sheer amount of things us diabetics have to go through to stay alive.
"Yep. I test at least four times a day. And I take an insulin shot every time I eat and before I go to bed."
"I thought you had an insulin pump."
"I did. But I fried it with a lightning bolt while fighting a random storm spirit. Shots just work better for someone who basically has electricity in their blood."
Nico smiles tiredly at me. Since I got here when I was twelve, Nico and I have become friends. He's been there for me, although he didn't really understand the pressures of diabetes.
"I'm sorry you have to do that."
"Oh, it's fine. Trust me." I say. "It's nice to have a friend who's there for you through the highs and the lows."
I'm trying to find a place to inject my nightly insulin. I move the syringe through the air around my body. Thigh? Nope, predinner shot went there. Stomach? Prelunch shot. Hip? Prebreakfast shot. Arm it is.
I hate doing a shot on my arm. I set the syringe down, and reach for my meter. I remember to change the lancet for once, and then prepare to test my blood.
"Knock knock." Nico says, leaning against the doorframe.
"Hey. Come on in."
"Are you doing an insulin shot? I don't want to disturb you." Nico says.
"Yeah. I'm taking insulin, but you aren't gonna disturb me."
I wash my hands and prick my finger using my finger-pricker. I press the drop of blood on a test strip and pop the strip into the meter. A few seconds later, the machine beeps and reads the number out loud.
"Your blood glucose level is 188 milligrams per deciliter."
188, or 10.4, is high, but not high enough to change my insulin dose. And, yes, my meter can talk. The one I carry with me everywhere doesn't, but I use a talking one while I'm in the cabin. Just in case I have to check in the middle of the night, or am a zombie in the morning. Having dyslexia and reading sugar numbers can be hard, but I have to make it work.
I fill the syringe with twelve units of long-acting insulin, and press the syringe to my arm. I press my arm against the doorframe and insert the needle. I slowly push the plunger down, pushing the insulin into my bloodstream. I remove the needle and drop it into an empty diet soda bottle with the word SHARPS written on the side.
Nico, who'd been watching in shock, finally speaks. "Cait, how does that not bother you?"
"What? The insulin shots?"
"Well, I either take the insulin or I die. I'd rather take the insulin, thanks."
Nico gets up and does something that completely surprises me. He gives me a tight hug, before pulling back. "I'm gonna be your friend, through the highs and the lows. I swear it on the River Styx."
a/n; I hope you lliked it!
responses to reviews:
Strawberrygirl2000¨ why thank you! I tried!
Writinggoddess12 thanks! I liked yours too!