Arrival: Still Thinking This Was “Just Dehydration”

By the time I arrived at the emergency department, I was exhausted in a way that’s hard to describe unless you’ve felt it. Not just tired—empty. My body felt like it was running on fumes.

I came in with what sounded, on paper, fairly ordinary:

• Severe nausea and vomiting
• Fatigue and weakness
• Shortness of breath
• Dizziness

I still didn’t think this was something catastrophic. I assumed I’d get IV fluids, maybe stronger anti-nausea meds, and be sent home to recover.

That assumption lasted about five minutes.

The Number That Changed Everything

They checked my blood sugar almost immediately.

483 mg/dL.

I remember hearing that number and not really processing it. I had no history of diabetes. No diagnosis. No warning label attached to my life saying this is possible.

Then more labs came back—fast.

• Sodium: dangerously low
• Bicarbonate: critically low
• Anion gap: wide open
• Blood pH: severely acidic

This wasn’t “high blood sugar.”
This was diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA).

DKA, explained:
When the body has little or no insulin, it can’t use glucose for energy. Instead, it breaks down fat, producing acids called ketones. These ketones build up in the blood, making it dangerously acidic. Without rapid treatment, DKA can be fatal.

At this point, the tone in the room changed.

When My Body Hit the Wall

They started IV fluids immediately. Then insulin. Then more labs. Then continuous monitoring.

I was barely aware of time passing, but my body was doing something very noticeable:
I was breathing fast. Deep, rapid breaths I couldn’t slow down.

This is called Kussmaul breathing—a reflex the body uses to try to blow off acid through the lungs when the blood pH is dangerously low.

I wasn’t panicking.
My body was.

The Heart Rate Spike

While all of this was happening, my heart rate kept climbing.

First 120.
Then 150.
Then higher.

Suddenly, I was in a sustained abnormal rhythm with my heart racing into the 200s.

At that point:

• More staff entered the room
• A crash cart appeared nearby
• Cardiology was called

I was given adenosine—a medication that essentially tries to reset the heart’s electrical system.

Once.
Then again.
Then again.

The last dose finally slowed things enough to get some control, but by then it was clear: this wasn’t just DKA anymore. My entire system was under extreme stress.

“We’re Admitting You to the ICU”

That sentence landed harder than any diagnosis.

I went from expecting fluids and discharge to being told I needed intensive care. Not observation. Not overnight monitoring. ICU.

The working picture looked something like this:

• Severe DKA with metabolic acidosis
• Profound dehydration
• Electrolyte abnormalities
• New-onset diabetes
• Dangerous heart rhythm instability

At one point I was described as lethargic, which is a polite medical way of saying my brain was not getting what it needed.

I don’t remember being afraid yet. I was too out of it for fear. Mostly I felt confused—like my body had betrayed me without sending a warning memo.

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Next:
Day 3 – When DKA turned into something even more dangerous, and why I was transferred out of the hospital entirely.

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