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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Grant_Vicat" data-source="post: 1719708" data-attributes="member: 388932">Hi [USER=147141]@Llinz04[/USER] The following describes similar nightmares in 1966, while I was a Type 1 inpatient:I remember a ginger haired and very tall boy coming in for an operation on an  in-growing toenail, a girl coming in with non-stop hiccups who was applied to an oxygen mask, and a 12 year old girl (I think her name was Christine, but I can’t be certain) who was a newly diagnosed diabetic. The nurses took advantage of her arrival by pointing out that she was a girl and had started administering her own injections straight away and that I was being a wimp. Although I believed this, I stubbornly refused to “self-harm” way beyond Christine’s incarceration. One morning I surrendered and aimed the frighteningly thick Luer mounted needle towards my right thigh. Just like trying to remove a splinter with a sewing needle. Having made a bloody, but futile mess, one of the nurses whipped the syringe out of my hand and plunged it straight in. I was given an orange on which to practise, but I was not convinced that oranges have any sense of pain. It would be nearly Christmas before I was able to be discharged and even then I was not as stable as they would have liked</blockquote>

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