It's early in the morning and I have to get ready for my clinical rotation. I look to my left and see my glucose monitor. The green orb that measures whether I am hyperglycemic or hypoglycemic stares me in the face, and like every morning, I pray quietly that it's neither because I'm so hungry. I only have 20 minutes to get dressed, brush my teeth, and eat before I must head out the door and face a full, stressful day.
As I run downstairs I try to determine if I want waffles with butter or mini muffins with a glass of milk. I choose the former, grabbing two, toasting them, and running out the door. It's still dark and my eyes have to adjust once more. I'm frustrated. My blood sugar is in the 80s, but I'm feeling weak and shaky. I know I shouldn't drive, but I cannot be late to my clinical.
Driving on the I-75 and then I-595 I start to feel dizzy while I stuff the two waffles down my gullet. I know that as a nurse I tell my patients to always correct their blood sugar before getting behind the wheel, yet here I am going 80mph while praying my blood sugar rises enough to stop the dizziness and shaking.
I arrive at the hospital and stumble out of my car. I call my best friend to alert the instructor to my late arrival because I just can't even stand. Realizing that I can't be late arriving on my floor, I run. I run past my former OB instructor without even managing a hello. I run down the stairs while trying to remember to recheck my blood sugar when I reach the floor.
After a grueling 5 minutes of racing past employees and waiting for the elevator, I arrive at the Pediatric ward. Out of breath, I walk to the Family Room where my fellow classmates are receiving their patient assignments. I feel exhausted and helpless. My best friend shoots me a look while mouthing, "Are you okay?" I nod and flop onto the couch while waiting for my assigned patient room number. The whole time my mind is racing. I'm tired of this disease and I realized I made many errors. If I can't stabilize myself, then I can't stabilize my patients.
This is one of many events I go through whether it be during a clinical rotation, lecture, or even just lying down while watching a movie. Nurses. We are the worst patients. We know what can happen to our patients if they refuse to comply with their treatments. Funny thing is, as a nurse, I know better, yet I've sat behind the wheel with low blood sugars. I've sat behind with high blood sugars. I've had DKA 5x in my life and am in constant fear. I know better. Then why do I do the opposite?
It's the same phenomenon when a pulmonologist or nurse is caught smoking outside of the hospital, or an obese doctor advises a diet change to an obese or overweight patient. We sometimes feel it's our job to correct patients and assist in their health-related choices. It's our duty in the workforce to "save" our patients without noticing that at times we neglect our own care.
The hardest part of my job though is when I've been assigned a diabetic patient. Checking their blood sugar and injecting them, these tasks make me think back to my health choices in a negative light. Why am I not practicing what I preach? I mean, if it's as easy as I say it is, then why not try harder? This is a constant battle within my mind and soul. Choosing to be a nurse I have made an oath to practice beneficence and nonmaleficence. I promised to always put the patient first and to give competent and safe care.
As a child when I was diagnosed at the age of 7 I would cry. Growing up in a Christian household I'd ask God: "Why me? What now? How do I handle this?" It's been almost 18 years and I still ask those questions, just not at the same frequency.
I changed majors many times and never really understood why nursing seemed to "call" to me. I now know. God didn't give me this illness, but He allowed me to be both a patient and a nurse to allow me to advocate for my patient. I can tell my patient: "I understand." I am able to see the results of quality care and fight for improvements. I have an awareness that as a nurse, allows me to make a difference. The knowledge gained in nursing school, work, and through being a patient myself, gives me a boost. I don't feel alone in this.
The above experience, had I heard a patient describe it, would have created a discussion of sorts where the patient may feel judged. I know, I've been in those same shoes. I've been disciplined, yelled at, had my insulin pump revoked, and even fell into DKA. I learned my lessons, but I am far from perfect. Maybe that's why I feel like an integral part of the healthcare field. I attained empathy. I live with this illness and I teach, monitor, care for those who also have it. It's a love/hate relationship, being a patient and a nurse. It's also a learning experience.
I implore my fellow nurses, take care of yourselves first and foremost. It makes life a little easier. It makes teaching the same care to patients more effectively. It gives you a sense of pride, and ultimately, you can't care for your patient(s) effectively if you yourself are in poor health. Stress, illness, and out-of-work circumstances affect your behavior, care, and attitude. Being a patient who is also a nurse gave me two different perspectives that have melded into one. I am glad I was called to nursing while fighting this disease. It wasn't only my calling, it's my life. 
