“Kaylee, we’re ready for you.”

 I stood up walked back behind the door with the nurse, leaving my dad’s slight frown. She made small chit-chat and sat me down in a chair. “I’m gonna make this quick and easy,” muttered the nurse. She took the needle a poked it into the small veins in my elbow, but I didn’t feel any pain. Blood came pouring out until I had to drink that horrific orange drink. I struggled to swallow it but I gulped it down. I walked back out to my dad and the movie I was watching.

An hour went by and I went back in, this time she pokes the needle into my other elbow. Still no pain. Then I returned to my movie once again.

 Another hour goes by. The nurse came back in, “One last time.”

 I walk back there once again, my head dizzy from blood loss, my throat quenching at the thought of water once this was over. She stuck the needle in one last time, no vein. She dug around a little till she found a vein and then takes the last of my blood. After that all I wanted to do was get out of there.

The nurse told me they would call us with results in a few days. I tell her goodbye because I wanted to go get my favorite meal before they could take it away from me: hard shelled tacos from Qdoba. My dad and I sat in the both, me knowing no food will ever be as good as this ever again.

 Then my dad asked me, “Kaylee, what are you thinking about this whole thing?”

 I told him, “I don’t really want to think about the results right now.” They had let me take the day off school so he had to drop me off with my mom for her to take me to practice that night.

 At practice we were doing race sprints and I looked on the inside of my elbows to see and all to find that they were black as night. That’s when every awful feeling, thought, and idea of what could be wrong with me hit me like a truck.

 The day of January 23rd started out pretty great; we got the day off school for snow my dogs and I went to sit outside in the frosty wonderland. When my mom got home from work she sat me down and said those eight awful words, words that would haunt me, make me feel different, weird, unwanted: “Sweetie, the doctor called, you have diabetes.”

 I started to cry. This is was a moment that I thought would never end. A scared, sad feeling. Then my mom broke the silence and asked me, “Are you ready for this?”

Thankfully that’s when the dream ended. The nightmare was over. I could hug my friends as the same girl I had always been. The same. Normal. Wanted.