Warning: blood and needles, mild vomiting
I've been type 1 diabetic for 25 years and so I sort of wrote this cause I wanted one and it's more for me than anything. I wrote this based on my experiences, my symptoms, how I handle them and how my doctors have advised me to. I am not a medical professional, just a T1D (for longer than Niall has even been alive) and this is based on that. If you have questions regarding anything I talk about here, please don't hesitate to ask.
Also, I know Niall is scared as fuck at these types of things but I 100% believe if his girl had something like this he'd learn all he could to help her.
Here
It's the sixth glass of water she's ordered when I notice her face looking a little paler than usual.She usually drinks whiskey or some type of cocktail but tonight she insisted she only wanted water and I didn't think anything of it till now. She is diabetic and I wonder if shes checked her sugar lately. Someone calls my name and startles me from my thoughts and I forget to ask her.
I made her go to this stupid dinner for some golf event she didn't care about and she told me earlier in the day she hasn't been feeling well but she said she'd still go cause she knew it was important. I tried to tell her she didn't have to suffer through if she didn't want to. We could keep the babysitter and she could just relax in the hotel room the company booked me and if she felt better she could come down, but she insisted.
She's wearing a simple black dress and it's stunning on her. It comes down to her knees with a slight slit up the side. It has a soft neckline trimmed with a hint of lace and it shows just enough of her chest that it makes my heart beat faster. I know she's uncomfortable in dresses and she for some reason felt the need to wear some sort of contraption under it that sucked in her waist a little more. I thought it looked better without. I like her curves. I like the stretch marks and the baby weight she hasn't lost. It's a mark of how strong she is and how she gave life to my little girl. Shes too self conscious. Especially in this business I'm in, which is why I guess she felt the need for it.
The waiter just brings her an entire pitcher this time and leaves it on a side table behind us so she can get more when she needs it. If she's feeling too bad she'll tell me, I hope. I'm trying to pay attention to the other dinner attendees but keeping an eye on her, when I see her put an ice cube in her napkin and rub it on her forehead. She puts her head in her hands and shes trying to be inconspicuous about it to not alert the other dinner guests.
"Baby, are you okay?" I lean over and whisper.
She shakes her head no before grabbing her purse and excusing herself to the ladies room. I follow her with my eyes as she starts to walk faster the closer she gets. I see a few of my colleagues notice as well and I stand up, throwing my napkin on the table and follow her, ignoring the 'LADIES' sign on the door and the dirty looks from the older lady walking out.
My princess is sitting on the bench in the ladies room and she feels so ill she doesn't even ask why I'm in here. She just hands me her purse and it clicks in my head what she needs. I should have asked her earlier.
I pull out her meter and wipe her finger with an alcohol wipe. I hold the lancing device (she calls it a pricker and I always thought that was strange) to her balmy hands and press the button to release the lancet into her delicate finger. A small drop of blood appears and I place it onto the test strip.
"HIGH" is all it says once it counts down. "Babe, you're over 600. It won't even give a number. Is your site in?" She shrugs and mumbles something incoherent. I make sure there's no one else in here before I lock the door and then help her lift up her dress. I pull off the waist control thing and see that in fact her insulin pump site had been pulled out and started bleeding.
