From Deathbed Diagnosis to Flowerbed Revival

My scares and triumphs over the last year 2024-2025

So here we are—March 2025—four years after my last post and nine years since the coma. Are you sick of my grief math? I’m sick of it too. Let’s throw it away! Be gone, grief—for now, anyway.

Let us call this post: From Death Bed Diagnosis to Flower Bed Revival: The Beginning of Being Type One Diabetic. HA! You didn’t expect me to say diabetic. Lol. You thought this was another coma blog. Ha! Tricked you. This is about my sugar, sugar.

Last post, I was waiting patiently for the COVID vaccine. I think I ended up getting that vaccine only a week or two later. And then I hit the ground running with my post-COVID tour.

When I look back at my photos over the last few years, trends have revealed themselves. Birthday parties have been big deals—and as much of a big deal as hugs are and always should be. Christmas gifts are real-life experiences, not tangible items—the best ones, anyway. More than Christmases and birthdays, it’s summer baseball games with my dad, cookouts with my other dad, playing ball in the front yard at my sister’s house, and hanging out in my brother’s garage just bullshitting and laughing together.

I did a post-coma tour back in 2016. And the whole world did a post-COVID tour in 2021. It’s been a wild ride for me personally—and for the whole damn world—after such massive illnesses and major divides.

But hey, first and foremost, we need our health. And you all know mine has made a record scratch or two. What’s funny—Coma Sue or Sugar Sue, regardless—I did not know what was going on with me, even when I was that close to death. Unbeknownst to me is such a perfect way to describe my being so close to death. Coma or DKA.

I had a dream recently… so, I want you all to imagine a teacher standing at a podium in a classroom with students aligned at their desks, waiting to say “Present” or be marked absent. As the teacher calls roll, all I hear is:

“Ketoacidosis, Diabetic?”

“Present!” I say.

And I never wake up from this nightmare.

Diabetic ketoacidosis, or DKA, was a place I stayed for way too long. I was eating and drinking whatever I wanted. My insatiable thirst was aggressive. And I indulged.

But…

I started losing weight. It was astounding. And I lived high on life and loose clothes. I was inexplicably exhausted. I was also peeing my pants every day—many times per day. I’m not here to give a laundry list of my symptoms. Long story short, I have type one diabetes and had it for 10 months before anyone noticed. I had lost 90 pounds. I was high on life and sleeping through it, yet again.

After a quick trip to the ER and a few nights stay, I was diagnosed with Type-1 diabetes. I make no insulin whatsoever. It explained so many things. But, I was able to get myself set up with some of the best doctors out there. Including nutritionists, pharmacists, endocrinologists, a primary care team, an OB-GYN team, a gastroenterologist specialist, and—most importantly—my psychiatrist and psychologist. I have a team, as everyone should. My entourage is far and wide, for my health. Lol.

And since then, I have pivoted and rotated, changed direction and amended my plans, backtracked my ideas, pivoted again, and then launched myself forward.

So, I am currently enjoying life near the lake in the Ashtabula Harbor. A year ago, we moved about 50 miles east of where we lived for the last 14 years. We moved to the town where Tony grew up. We never meant to stay in Euclid so long—it was a starter home—and our stage two was delayed. Economy, jobs, babies, deaths, losses—who the fuck cares? It’s all just life, and no regrets. Just as my mom always said when bad shit piled up—she said, “That’s life.” It’s not personal. It’s hard sometimes, but it’s all worth it.

So here we are now, in ‘Bula. At the “new” house, and it’s taken some growing to get used to things here. But the flowerbeds, trees, and gardens have all come to life at all times and seasons throughout this past year. The yard and grounds have been a symphony—colors and scents perfectly orchestrated for my enjoyment. I only hope the previous owners understand my gratitude and appreciation for their creative hand, carefully mindful planting choices, and downright hard work. It’s been beautiful and a reminder that these beautiful things return each year if we’re lucky.

So, thank you.

This is what I’ve learned so far:

• Type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disease.
• I do not make any insulin and am reliant on my insulin pump and continuous glucose monitor.
• Damn, medical technology is amazing these days.
• The coma taught others to love and appreciate me more—diabetes taught me to love and appreciate myself more.
• I’m allowed to take up space.
• I absolutely have to take care of myself—none of this “others first” bullshit. If this plane is going down or flying high, I will put that oxygen mask on me first!!!

As always, thank you for reading. I’m hoping I will be around a little more often, soon enough.

Love,
Amanda