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Found this posted on another message board, thought it was a good read.

A life so precious

By Kati Burns
Sand Mountain Reporter

Published May 31, 2005

Death has a multitude of many different faces, none of them particularly better than the other. Thankfully, I can say that death is almost a foreign word to me, for it's not something I have been witness to.

However, three years ago I met a really wonderful person who faces death, not on a regular basis, but much more than the average person should. My college roommate for the last two years, Lindsay, was diagnosed with diabetes before entering college. Having come from a fairly healthy family, I had never been witness to the type of daily ailments that Lindsay's illness brought upon her so I can honestly say, I did not truly know what a huge responsibility I had just put upon myself when I agreed to share a room with her my sophomore year.

A cheery person almost daily and so full of life, it is almost hard for one to tell exactly how sick Lindsay is. Lindsay is an only child and has been used to having things her way but she is the most selfless person I know of, sharing anything that belongs to her. Not being one to pick an argument easily with friends, she always has a conversation for anyone and a friendly smile on her face.

My first year spent with Lindsay, she injected insulin into her body several times a day, especially before every meal. She would occasionally have bouts of sickness, where her legs would hurt so bad she would cry or where she would throw up constantly and ask me to fetch her something to drink. I recall how annoyed I would get when her illness would keep me awake at night or distract me from my studies.

She would many times, call her parents and beg them to come get her, at which point, she would miss several class days. My annoyance was great toward her because I often believed she used the excuse of her sickness to get out of school. I thought she was a weak person. I was never so wrong.

A big part of Lindsay's problem is that she has a very big sweet tooth. She would eat bags of chocolate daily and, instead of water, she would drink many cans of soda a day. She was quite a picky eater at meal times and instead would eat a bowl of cereal or some other food in our room afterwards. She never checked her blood sugar, something I learned later was very important to ensure her health.

I never realized the seriousness of my friend's illness, until it put her in the hospital. This was our second year as roommates and Lindsay had since switched to wearing a pump with a remote control insulin injector. She was checking her sugar several times a day now but this did not stop her from bottoming out one night when her sugar dropped into the 20s or 30s. I have been told that a good range for a diabetic's blood sugar is between 80 and 100. Any lower or higher than that, Lindsay could be at risk of going into a diabetic coma, something she fears more than death itself. She was in the ICU at the hospital for several days. A few of the girls and I visited her during her stay and it was an experience we wouldn't soon forget.

Lying back in her hospital bed, her death pale face surrounded by even paler pillows, Lindsay's 21-year-old body was attached to many beeping machines and she was obviously extremely tired. It did not take any of us long to realize that our vibrant friend should not be a part of such an atmosphere, where just down the hall an elderly woman gasped her last breath and numerous others were groaning in pain. We immediately returned to her dorm room and proceeded to dispose of all of her hidden sweets, for the doctors said she wasn't balancing her intake. We were determined to keep this from happening again.

Though Lindsay never spoke of the time, she cautiously watched what she ate for a while. Her parents told me once that Lindsay thinks she is no different from anyone else and wants to be treated just the same. The only problem is that Lindsay is different and special attention must be given to her needs.

The night that was an eye opener for me, the night that made me realize how precious life truly is, was the night that Lindsay had her first seizure. It was 3 in the morning and I can still remember the helplessness I felt as I watched her sweat drenched body twitch convulsively in the dark. I ran for help but all we could do was watch and wait for the ambulance. When the seizure finally ended and Lindsay returned to her usual jolly self, none of us had the courage to voice what was on all of our minds: What if she had never woken up?

I have since decided that Lindsay's cheerfulness is her way of saying "No big deal," to those of us who worry for her. Many times I feel as though she toys with death. I can't see why anyone would think a few pieces of chocolate could be worth risking your life. It makes no sense to me. But I worry for this friend of mine who suddenly entered my life and has become such a big part of it.

Lindsey's name was changed for this column.