Adam Learns to Cope with Diabetes

by Rosie Peters
^{(creative writers at www.morewriting.co.uk)}
Adam threw his football kit on the floor and flopped down on the sofa.

"What's up?" asked his mother, Flora.

"I've been dropped from the team," cried Adam, his blue eyes welling up with tears. "It's not my fault. I don't feel right and I just can't run."

"I reckon you're getting the flu. You're all hot and sweaty. Shall I get you a drink?"

"Ok," said Adam, "but I've already drunk loads, and been told off for going to the loo so much."

"I'll do you pizza shall I?" called Flora, from the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," replied Adam. "My mouth tastes funny and I feel sick."

"Well if you're no better in the morning it's the doctor for you young man, and no arguing."

The next day Adam was slumped, silently, at Doctor Strong's desk.

"He's poorly, off his food and no energy," said Flora, her brow furrowed. "He's passing water all the time too. I wondered if he's got an infection. He's done a sample for you." She handed the doctor a small bottle.

Doctor stuck a strip of special paper in the urine to check it. "I need to do a blood test," he said after peering at the paper strip, but first let me ask you a few questions and examine you." Adam nodded.

"Well" said Doctor Strong, after what seemed ages, "I know what the problem is."

Her leaned forward and spoke quietly. "I'm sorry to tell you both, Adam has diabetes. That's why he's lost weight and been feeling ill."

Adam's heart started beating faster. He could see his mother's face go suddenly pale and a tear trickled down her cheek. Doctor Strong passed Flora a box of tissues. Usually the doctor was quite jolly but today, Adam thought he looked solemn.

"I understand your concern Flora but there's going to be a lot of help for you both so try not to worry too much," said Doctor Strong. "Although diabetes is a serious, lifelong condition, the symptoms can generally be controlled. Most people who have diabetes lead relatively normal lives and manage to do most of the things that they want to."

Adam managed a feeble smile then mentally switched off as Doctor Strong talked. All Adam could think of was getting better and playing football again. He felt so weak. Even the walk from the waiting room had been an effort. He felt so thirsty and tired.

"We need to get Adam to hospital immediately to start treatment. Do you have a car Mrs Hobbs?"

Flora shook her head. "No, and there's no one I can ask."

"I'll get an ambulance." said Doctor Strong, resting a hand on Adam's shoulder. "I just need to make a couple of phone calls."

It wasn't long before Adam and his mother were at the hospital. A young woman called Doctor Smedley came and took some blood from a vein in Adam's arm. She was very gentle and it hardly hurt at all. She left a tiny plastic tube in the vein and put some sticky tape over it to keep it still. Next she hung a bag of fluid on a pole near to where Adam was lying and fixed it all up to the little plastic bit resting on his arm.

"I'm so hot," mumbled Adam then fell asleep.

When he woke up he found that he was in bed, in a room with three other boys. Adam felt pleased to see a poster of the England soccer team on the wall but this made him think about his lost place in the school team.

"Hello, I'm Armit," said a tall young man in a navy tunic and trousers. "I'm your own Diabetes Nurse. I'll be helping to look after you on the ward and when you leave hospital. Like football do you then? I saw you looking at the poster."

"He loves football," said Flora. "But he's been upset that he's not played well lately."

Armit nodded. "Once we've sorted your diabetes out Adam, you should be able to play as well as you did before you were ill."

"I hope I can get back in the team again."

Armit pulled up a chair next to the bed. "A lot depends on you. Lots of people with diabetes live perfectly normal lives, in that they can do the things they want to. I bet you didn't know that there are famous footballers who have diabetes. And there's the Olympic rower Sir Steve Redgrave too."

Adam sat up higher in his bed, eager to hear more. "What is diabetes then and why have I got it?"

Armit explained about the body not having enough of a hormone called insulin to use up the sugar in the blood. "Children who get diabetes have to learn to give themselves insulin injections to keep themselves well. Try not to worry. The needles are really fine these days and you hardly feel it go in. We'll give you a special pen thing. I'll show you what to do. It's easy. In time you'll learn how to adjust your insulin and food according to your blood glucose tests and your daily routine."

Five days later Adam was back at home. "I feel so much better Mum. I wish I could go back to school and play football."

"Time enough young man. It's a good job it's the holidays. I don't want you nipping out at break time for fish'n chips like you used to. You've got to get used to healthy food."

"I'm glad you don't need to buy special diabetic food for me," said Adam.

Flora smiled, "We can eat the same things. It'll do me good to eat less biscuits and cakes," she said, patting her hips. "We've always had plenty of fresh food, so we don't need to make a lot of changes other than avoiding too much fat and sugar. If we plan what we're going to eat it will make the shopping easier."

Adam looked at the clock. "Time for my blood test." He washed his hands then sat down at the table with the little machine that Armit had given him. He was aware of his mother smiling at him proudly as he pricked his finger. Less than a week ago he'd been so ill and now he felt like a different boy.

Just then the telephone rang. "Exactly on time," said Flora picking up the receiver. "He's doing really well Armit, thank you. We've no problems. I'll pass the phone over and he can read you his blood results."

"I don't know how we'd have managed without Armit's help," said Flora later. "He's given me a number to ring if we're worried, even if it's the middle of the night. He's even reminded me about the appointment with the consultant in two days."

"I really like Armit," said Adam. "He's almost a mate now, and he likes football."

"He'll be really pleased when you're playing again. Exercise is so important; I've decided to treat you to new football boots. You deserve it after all these things you've had to learn."

"Thanks Mum!" said Adam leaping up from the table and jumping up and down. "Shall we get them on the way back from the hospital?"

Two days later Adam and his mother sat on the sofa together. Flora was looking at a magazine that Armit had given them. Balance it was called. "This is good Adam. It's full of useful information. If you join Diabetes UK you'll get Balance posted to you."

"Mm," said Adam, not looking up. He was hunched over his new football boots.

At last, the long summer holiday was over. Adam knew that his mother would be thinking about his first day back at school. "I'll be fine, Mum," he kept saying. "Don't worry!" Then he waved and strode off towards the bus stop.

At four thirty, the kitchen door flung open. "Mum! Mum!" Adam called. "I'm back in the team. Mr Jones knows it was my illness that made me play badly. I must let Armit know."

"That's wonderful Adam. I knew you'd do it. Remember, Armit told you there's no reason that having diabetes should stop you doing what you really want to do in life."