So I went into the bathroom. I was feeling very weak at this point. I had to use the doorways for support when walking. I was out of breath almost instantaneously. As soon as the urine hit the stick, it turned the darkest color possible. I would say it was almost a black. I panicked. This hadn't happened to me ever. The only time I knew about it was when I was first diagnosed in 2002. I washed my hands fast, and called to my mom. As I opened the bathroom door, I almost fell. My legs were jello. I could hear my mom talking in the kitchen to my step-dad. I yelled, "Mom!" They came into the living room, as I fell onto the couch. I leaned over and showed her the stick. "We have to call your doctor and go to the hospital." My step-dad said, "Oh crap!" Then I started to dry heave. I could feel my heart beating rapidly. Faster than any other time I got sick. I couldn't form one coherent thought. My mom called my diabetic doctor and told them what was going on. After being transferred twice, she finally was told my diabetic doctor was also out of town. They told us to go to the Emergency Room. So I put on a sweater, stuck some shoes on, said by to my mom, and got into the van. My step-dad had already put my bucket in their for me. (Mom had to stay home cause my younger siblings would be home from school around 3 p.m.)

We're driving to the hospital, and a few blocks away, I get this weird feeling, as if I can feel my body shutting down. I'm forcing myself to stay alert and stay focused, but I can see my vision getting darker. I'm soo scared at this point, I can't even talk. My step-dad grabs my hand, and tells me it will be alright. He speeds the rest of the way, taking into account the terrible roads, and making sure to drive carefully because of me. But we get there, and he pulls into the ER entrance. You drive up and they give you a ticket, and valet park your car for you. So my step-dad gets out of the car, gets the ticket, and is halfway to the door, just as I shut the car door. He turns around and comes back to hold on to my arm and help me inside. I'm so weak, even walking is difficult. We get inside, and usually you have to grab a paper, and wait, but he sits me in the chair and starts telling the man what's wrong. I'm so out of it, I can barely even say my name. The man goes to find an open room, and as a nurse is passing, I go, "I'm going to throw up." He hands me this weird looking puke bag. It's blue and very... Different. The man comes back, and leads us to a room that is being cleaned. They finished up just as we got there. Then they have me lay down, and they give me a robe to put on. I got it on, but didn't even have the energy to tie it. So I lay back and just let it be. I tell my step-dad that I'm extremely thirsty, and after a few minutes of begging, he gets me a small glass of water. He didn't want me to get sick again. I drank the water quickly, and had finished just as two nurses came into my room. One nurse was going to start an I.V. to get me hydrated, because I was dehydrated, which accounted for my extreme thirst. The other was from the lab, and needed to get some blood to get some tests done. The nurses keep poking and prodding, and with no results. Then the lab nurse gets a needle into my right arm. She wiggles it a little, and all I say is, "I'm going to puke again." My step-dad grabs the little puke bag and hands it to me. The nurse on the left takes the band off my arm, as the other is finishing up getting the blood out. I throw up and she pulls the needle out so it won't hurt me. My arm is bleeding, and the nurse on the left is holding me up so I can throw up. As I stop throwing up, I'm sweating, my heart is racing, and I feel like I'm dying. The nurses throw away the puke bag, and the lab nurse leaves. The other nurse found a vein in my right hand, but she got a more experienced nurse to insert it. Then she gives me a medicine to stop the vomiting. After she did that, she hooked me up to a saline bag. Then she left the room, telling me if I needed anything to just push the call button.

It's now 3:30 p.m. and the doctor comes into the room to tell my step-dad that I indeed do have DKA (Diabetic KetoAcidosis is a complication of diabetes that occurs when the body cannot use sugar (glucose) as a fuel source because the body has no insulin or not enough insulin, and fat is used instead. The body consumes its own muscle, fat, and liver cells for fuel.) I'm laying there thinking to myself, "What in the world have you done Stephanie?" The doctor proceeds to tell us that he doesn't know if I can be admitted to the ICU because I'm underage, and he's going to try to see what he can do, but if he can't then we might have to go to Pittsburgh. He leaves, and another nurse comes in. She has to get an x-ray of my chest. So I get that done, and she leaves. A few minutes later another doctor comes in. This doctor works with my diabetic doctor. Except she works at the hospital. So basically she oversees patients in the hospital from their office until they can come in to see the patients. She was very nice, but she didn't understand most of what I was talking about because she didn't know my past medical history well. So it took about an hour or so, and by that time, I had to go to the bathroom very bad. So the nurse who has been taking care of me, the one who got the more educated nurse to put my I.V. in, asked me if I could walk. I actually couldn't really get up and do much because my heart would start to beat faster, and I could feel it.