Diabulimia -- My Story

I just felt there was no other way but to stop taking insulin. I felt helpless and stupid because I knew what I was doing and I really didn't care, I just wanted to be thin so badly.

In March of 2005 I was in DKA for the fifth time. It took longer than the times before because the school has worked out a plan with my mom that if I didn't go to the health aide's office to take insulin during school then I'd get detention. There was more of a record being kept.

I stayed in the hospital for a week and then was back home. However it was mandatory that I saw a psychologist from then on.

I made it through the summer, but the skipping insulin was worse than ever. By the beginning of my sophomore year I was incredibly thin, but I was having trouble walking to school. I'd have to stop every five minutes to catch my breath and things just got worse from there. Eventually, walking across a room got too hard to do.

I always felt like there was never enough oxygen to fill my lungs or enough water to keep me from being thirsty. I would throw up in between classes, take some insulin, and then go to class like everything was fine. I didn't look fine -- teachers thought I was a drug addict because I was so thin and I had dark circles under my eyes. I slept all the time and I just wanted to die.

November of 2005 was probably the worst bout of DKA out of the six. My mom was out shopping and my boyfriend was over. I kept throwing up every five minutes, so he called my doctor who said "call 9-1-1" and he did. The problem was that my mom had lost her cell phone so we couldn't contact her, and when the ambulance came they brought me to a hospital I don't usually go to.

This hospital wouldn't treat me because I was a minor and they needed parental consent. But I started showing specks of blood in my vomit, and that's when the doctors decided to treat me.

When I was finally stable enough to be transferred to my normal hospital I was in pretty bad shape.

I was in the ICU, and it was the first time that they wouldn't let me get up to go to bathroom. Let me tell you something, it's quite embarrassing to be 15 years old and have a nurse that you know have to hold a bed pan underneath you.

When my mom got to the hospital they told her that she might want to stay because they didn't know if I would make it through the night. I spent 10 days and another Thanksgiving in a hospital.

After that I was determined to stay out of DKA. People really started to believe that I was getting better because I was staying out of the hospital. This was only because I was finding ways that kept me out of the hospital but still allowed me to lose weight. I misused my insulin and cut back on my eating. Every once and while I would throw up, and I still couldn't walk long distances. But staying skinny was really all I cared about.