“And?” Nico pressed.
“And my theory was correct,” the doctor said then looked at Kane. “You do indeed have diabetes, Mr. Slater. Type one to be exact.”
None of us said anything until Kane opened his mouth and spoke.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, my blood could have been tainted in the lab, right?”
The doctor nodded. “That is a possibility, but I had the tests ran three times for confirmation and nothing changed. The result was the same all three times. You’re a diabetic, Mr. Slater.”
“I’m a diabetic?” Kane mumbled to himself.
The room was quiet again, but not for long because I had a few questions that I wanted to be answered.
“Type one is the one that requires insulin, right?” I asked the doctor.
He nodded his head. “Yes, that is the very one.”
I frowned. “Isn’t that a children’s disease though?”
“Normally,” the doctor said and nodded his head. “It was dubbed with the name juvenile diabetes because it’s most commonly diagnosed in children, teenagers, or young adults. It can occur at any age, though.”
I blinked. “Oh, I see.”
“I don’t understand,” Kane sighed. “Wouldn’t I have known if I was diabetic? I mean, I would have had some signs, right?”
“Your brothers mentioned to the nurses last night about your extreme fatigue, weight loss, vomiting and so on over the past twelve months. It is very easy to look at these symptoms as a case of influenza, a vomiting bug or even a simple head cold,” the doctor explained. “There are many different symptoms for type one diabetes. Some people suffer from all of them and others have no signs at all. It varies from person to person.”
We all nodded our heads in understanding and waited for the doctor to continue.
“Your body is a special case, Mr. Slater. With a lot of people, the symptoms can start like the click of my fingers and things can progress quickly. Then there are cases like yours where people can be ill for a long period of time but not need treatment straight away. Your body managed to get by with what little insulin it produced itself for the past year, but the strain has started to show and it’s not enough anymore. Your collapsing last night is a prime example of that. Your body needs more insulin to survive than what it’s currently producing.”
I looked at Kane and saw he swallowed but nodded his head to the doctor, taking what he said at face value.
“The bad news about type one diabetes is that there is no cure for it. You will have it for the rest of your life. The good news is that it is manageable. You will need to take a daily injection of insulin, starting today. You will have a standard daily dose and it can be adjusted depending on your sugar level. While you were sleeping earlier, we sampled your blood sugar level so it will be a low dose today as you’re not actively moving, or consuming a lot of calories. That is the trick with your injections, the more active you are or the more calories you consume, the higher your dose needs to be. Don’t worry about that right now though, we will develop a schedule.”
The doctor went on as a nurse opened the door and wheeled in a trolley with a yellow bucket and other medical equipment on a large tray.
“Weekly appointments and check-ups will be set up until you’ve got a handle on your doses. It will become routine for you and I doubt it will be difficult for you to get a grasp of. You look like a man who knows about diet and exercise. You will just have to follow a new program to balance your body’s glucose level. Does that make sense?”
Kane nodded mutely then pointed his finger at the trolley next to the nurse.
“What’s that?” he asked, his voice low.
“Your first insulin dose. I’ll prescribe an insulin pen just because they are more convenient than dealing with a separate needle and bottle of insulin.”
Kane tensed up at the mention of the word ‘needle.’ He sat upright and he glared daggers at the doctor. “You are not sticking a needle in me.”
The doctor glanced at the brothers then back to Kane. “Your insulin must be injected under the skin, Mr. Slater. It cannot be taken orally because the acids in your stomach will destroy it.”
Kane swallowed. “I don’t care; you’re not sticking a needle in me. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Damn,” Ryder murmured. “Kane, you need this medication or you don’t get better. Period. You have to take it.”
Kane looked at his older brother, and at that moment he was a scared little boy. “Not a needle, Ryder. Please. Anything but a needle.”
I was shocked.
I had no idea he was so terrified of needles. I mean, he couldn’t be scared of them, he had a sleeve of tattoos so what was his problem?
Nico turned to the doctor. “He’s had some... bad experiences with needles in the past.”
He had? How?