I tap my feet on the ground nervously as my dad drives me to the doctor. He doesn't seem worried at all. Luckily, they said I was welcome to have all of my friends over to celebrate the holidays tonight. Finally after a drive that seemed like forever, we're at the doctor. The waiting room went by fast and I was sitting in those synthetic leather mattresses with thin paper on it waiting for the doctor to come get me for tests.

"What do you think is wrong with me?" I ask my dad frustrated.

"I don't know son? All I know is that you are not terminally ill so don't worry," my dad says trying to calm me down.

"I'm scared dad," I say.

"Don't worry. Just a needle or two," he teases.

I scowl and wipe sweat from my forehead. I was horrified of needles growing up. The stinging sensation still gave me chills. I would be the biggest pussy if this got out, but I'm good at keeping secrets. The doctor comes in and asks me and my dad some questions.

"In the past month and a half, Blake has been drinking water bottles by the dozen. He claims he's thirsty all the time. He also has to use the restroom constantly and he is hungry a lot," my dad answers before I can.

My cheeks burn bright red. I feel like a humiliated because my dad is answering questions for me like I'm a baby. The doctor's expression changes into one of realization.

"Blake, I need you to come do a few blood tests please," he tells me.

I get up and go follow him to the lab. They give me a stress ball because I tense at the sight of a needle.

"It's alright," the nurse tries to comfort me.

It's because I'm embarrassed about being afraid of needles at sixteen fucking years old. They tie a tourniquet around my bicep and I look away when they put the tube on the inside of my elbow.

"Blood type, A neg," the doctor mutters to himself when he looks at the scanning and writes it down on a clipboard.

The spend around two minutes draining blood from me and I squeeze the shit out of the stress ball. When they're done, they slip a bandaid and send me back to my room.

"Your results will be back in two days," the doctor says

"Okay, thanks," I say.

"However, based on your symptoms, were also testing you for Type 1 Diabetes along with mono," the doctor says.

"Diabetes?! How?!" I ask growing scared.

"When you come back on Monday, we will test your glucose and blood sugar levels," the doctor tells me.

I sigh sadly, but ultimately nod. When I get home I FaceTime Miguel and tell him everything. Sensei cancelled training for the weekend because he wanted to get the dojo ready for a full class.

"They think I might have diabetes," I say sounding ashamed.

I don't know why I felt ashamed. It wasn't like I did something wrong. People with diabetes were still pretty much 100% normal except for a dead pancreas. Honestly, I was just terrified. I knew fear did not exist, but I was fucking scared okay.

"Dude I'm really sorry," Miguel says sincerely.

"It's fine, I'm moving the party to Wednesday," I say.

"Really? I think tonight is great. It seems like you need a distraction," Miguel says.

"Honestly after all the blood tests and everything, I'm just too tired, mentally and physically, for a party," I say.

"Yeah I get it. Plus you talked a pretty big game about your parties so it's best to deliver when you're at full strength," Miguel says.

"Totally," I say.

My eyelids grow heavy despite the fact that my dad grabbed me a sugary mint chip shake from Baskin Robbins after my tests. I'm feeling sort of drowsy and my vision is blurry.

"Alright man, I'm exhausted. I'm gonna take a nap and I'll call you later?" I say.

"Sounds good. How about tonight, the guys do something. The four of us. Gang hangout," Miguel suggests.

"I'd like that. When I wake up, I'll call you guys and we can chill at my place," I suggest.

"Perfect," Miguel answers.

After I end the call, I get in bed and immediately pass out.

When I wake up, I feel much better. I check my phone and see that I was asleep for about 7 hours. It was already 8pm. I decide to go downstairs and grab a Gatorade and I see my friends in the living room talking to my parents.

"Hey Blake, you feeling better?" Miguel asks.

"Yeah," I say and fist bump my three friends.

"How long have you guys been here?" I ask.

"About an hour," Eli answers.

"Why didn't you guys wake me up?" I ask.

"We knew you needed the rest. Also, we wanted to surprise you," Demetri answers.

"Mel brought DQ," Eli tells me.

"My mom got us all a bunch of slushees and milkshakes from Sonic," Demetri says.

"You boys are very sweet," my mom says thankfully.

My parents are going to see a movie, so we have the house to ourselves for a while.

"I also brought something," Miguel says proudly.

"What?" Demetri, Eli, and I ask in unison.

"This," Miguel answers and holds up a package of cigars.

"Holy shit. Where did you get those?" I ask.

"I may have let it slip to my mom and yaya that you potentially have diabetes. My yaya gave these to me in secret," Miguel answers.

"Man you guys are awesome. Couldn't have asked for a better group of pals," I say grinning.

"Hey, The Gang sticks together forever," Eli says raising his fist to me.

"Forever," I say and fist pump him.

We eat and drink like kings then stand on my upstairs balcony and smoke our stogies. Eli and I are chilling on lawn chairs while Miguel connects his phone to the speaker and Demetri is going off about how bad smoking is.

"Shut up Demetri," all three of unison, but not in a rude way.

"Just saying," Demetri says putting his hands up.

"It's just a cigar," I say and take another puff.

"Yeah you aren't supposed to swallow the smoke. Just enjoy the taste and live in the moment," Miguel says as he plays Ventura Highway by America.

"What time is karate practice on Monday?" Eli asks.

"Well with no school, I'm not entirely sure. Usually on school days we show up at 4pm," I answer.

"Hey Miguel," I call out and Miguel looks at me in response.

"What time did Sensei say to show up on Monday?" I ask.

"Well Saturday's are usually at 11am, but I bet Sensei wants to stay consistent so I think we show up at 4 like always, but I'll double check tomorrow," Miguel answers.

"Oh man, I can't wait to dish back at Kyler," Eli says excitedly.

"It's gonna take a lot of effort though. But I think you'll do just fine," I say.

We just chill out for the rest of the night until my friends leave and I go straight to bed.

Monday morning, the day I finally find out what's going on inside my body. I get to the doctor and they take me to test my blood sugar. They prick the tip of my finger and take a small drop of blood. It's almost painless. However, my heart drops when the readings come back.

"Blood sugar... 213," the doctor says.

I just stare at the numbers and my body practically shuts down. I can't even breathe, all I can do is stare. My glucose levels were way to high also. They send me to an endocrinologistand walk into my room after running a few more tests. My dad has his hand on my shoulder for comfort, but I know he's also scared.

"Mr. Murphy, your test results came back positive for Type 1 Diabetes. I'm so sorry son," the doctor says.

I just shake my head and try my hardest not to cry.

"C-Can... I-I still do karate?" I ask as my voice shakes and I aggressively sniffle.

The doctor gives me a real smile.

"Absolutely, people with Type 1 are just as capable as people with an ordinary pancreas," the doctor says reassuringly.

This boosts my mood, but I'm still in shock. I put my hands together in a prayers like motion and sigh.

"However, after all the tests, you are short on blood and you need to adjust to your new requirements. Insulin shots, dietary requirements, this and that," the doctor says.

"How long?" I ask.

"A week. Then you will be back to your old self with a few small extra steps," the doctor says.

I just shake my head slowly. The doctor leaves the room. My dad pulls me into a hug as I finally let the tears fall down my face. At this point, I didn't know how to breathe or think. I was many things, sad, shocked, pissed off, you name it. Why did I have to be the one with the ugly scars on my face that make me look like he tried to suck face with a rabid dog? Why did I have to be the one with a dead pancreas surviving on insulin shots and having to restrict certain foods? Why did I have to be the one that gets suspended from school for standing up to the bullies? Why me? It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

Authors note: hey everyone! Sorry I haven't been updating daily. School has been kicking my ass and busy times call for priorities. Things will pick up don't worry. Blake Murphy doesn't break easily. Next chapters will be a two parter. First will be Murphy learning how to live with diabetes, mentally recovering, and the beginning of Blake's big Christmas party. The next chapter (part 2) will be the party and blake telling Miguel and his close pals about himself. He wants to keep it under wraps because he feels embarrassed and depressed about it. Please do not get the wrong idea about Blake's reaction. I know many amazing people with diabetes who live great lives including my uncle and friends. If you have diabetes, be strong and do not be ashamed of who you are. If it ever gets you down, just know that you are fighting a battle everyday that not many have to worry about. That makes you BADASS! Happy reading everyone.