I Wasn’t Just Tired—How Fertility Bloodwork Uncovered Type 1 Diabetes

I always thought if something was seriously wrong, I’d know. There’d be a sign. A flashing red light. A medical plot twist I could feel.

Turns out? Not so much.

For years, my A1C was a little high—borderline. I was tired, overweight, and stressed. So I blamed work, aging, and bad sleep. At one point, I thought I just needed glasses due to my age. I was even losing weight and I thanked my move to Tel Aviv that brought more walking and eating better food. 

I even remember being so sick one night and then passing out after, at a food-truck festival, I ate sushi grilled challah and mac n’ cheese - carb-on-carb magic! But the blood sugar aferwards wasn’t just a “food coma.” 

Still, I brushed it off.

We did some bloodwork as we prepared ourselves to enter the world of fertility treatments due to our ages and my backgroup—when I got the call. Not from my doctor. From a friend who works in the system, panicked: “Are you okay? You need to go to the ER. Your sugar is through the roof.”

I wasn’t that sick. Or so I thought.

According to my bloodwork that morning, my urine sugar was over 1,000. At the ER my blood sugar was over 500. They assumed Type 2. The next morning I was sent home with insulin to bring my sugar down safely and Metformin. 

A week later the diabetes clinic doctor raised an eyebrow. “This doesn’t look like Type 2.” He ran more tests.

Another week later, a nurse walked quietly back into the exam room. “You’re Type 1.” And I cried.

She didn’t try to fix it. She stayed.

That nurse would go on to support me through two more pregnancies. She retired during my third. She saw my story full-circle.

It all started with fertility bloodwork. It turned into a lifelong diagnosis. It saved my life. 

And it gave me answers I didn’t know I needed.