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Percy wouldn’t say he had the worst luck, but he didn’t have particularly good luck either. Once he started figuring himself out and becoming more confident and comfortable mortal life became much easier than when he was a kid.
Sure, school still wasn’t great, but he could handle everything so much better.
His health, however, seemed to take a massive decline and not even in a cool way.
He didn’t get cancer… or whatever other cool illnesses there were. He didn’t even know what the problem was other than the fact that it was embarrassing, it was something he thought he could handle, and he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.
So he kept his issues secret. Even when he was so miserable he acted like a completely different person, and even when his mom and even Paul became so worried they offered to contact the camp for help.
Percy’s refusal couldn’t have been quicker and, honestly, it couldn’t have been angrier. Why was he angry? Great question. But the idea of not being able to handle it alone, of having to admit he had an embarrassing problem, it was just so… upsetting to him.
He felt bad. He felt horrible for snapping at his mom and Paul, he felt horrible in general. He either spent his days hiding away or sitting in a bath (which helped soothe everything, he wasn’t sure if it was because his dad was Poseidon or if it would’ve helped anyone) or just crying.
So, with great protest, his mom forced him to go to the hospital. He hated it, he hated forcing his mother to spend so much money for something that was potentially nothing, and he hated how fucking stupid he felt for having to go to a hospital for an issue he should’ve managed to handle.
And then that receptionist asked that question that made him feel even stupider, “What do you think we’re supposed to do about it?”
One ‘peeing into a cup’ moment later (why is it you can never go to the toilet when you want to?) and continuing to feel even stupider than before, his mom and he were just sitting in the waiting room, waiting to either be sent home or be seen by someone.
Admittedly he was a tad surprised when someone came out and did a quick blood sugar test on him. Of course he looked away from the needle, truthfully he didn’t have any idea what it even looked at, but he knew if he looked he’d freak out even more.
It felt childish to be so nervous around needles. He used swords on the daily as a demigod. He’d been slashed at and prodded and poked more times than he could count, and he’d bled and been injured more times too. A small needle poking the tip of his finger should’ve been nothing! But between feeling stupid and embarrassed, being uncomfortable, and just feeling horrible, he was a lot more sensitive to needles at the moment.
The nurse was incredibly kind to say his blood sugar was only a little bit high. Although neither he nor his mom found out how ‘only a little bit high’ his blood sugar was.
Then the doctor came out and asked him questions (“have you been feeling tired recently?” “A little bit recently, but not all the time.” “Have you felt particularly thirsty at all?” “I guess so, but I sleep in an air-conditioned room, so that might be it.”) and then they did another, proper blood test. As in they took blood from him to test.
That’s when he found out that a) his issue with needles was so incredibly bad that day that he was trembling by the end, and that b) he was such a bad bleeder they had to go for his wrist, one nurse sat on the floor to try and coax the blood into the tube, and they barely got enough blood for the tests they needed despite trying everything.
He wasn’t happy.
The doctor had momentarily asked his mom to leave the room, and despite not usually minding her staying, he didn’t want her hearing him talking about the problem he’d been struggling with recently.
But after telling the doctor (and unfortunately doing a quick exam… he never wanted to do that ever again…) his mom was called back in and the doctor left for a couple moments before returning.
Percy really wasn’t sure if he was glad about her diagnosis.
On one hand, it gave him comfort finally having an answer to his issue and hopefully he could fix it. On the other hand…
He couldn’t really have diabetes… right? That couldn’t be possible. He was healthy, he was fit and worked out and ate right. …Most of the time. And he was half-god! Wouldn’t that prevent diabetes? Didn’t that make sense?
But no. Apparently he had type 2 diabetes. Yay…
Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he believed the doctor initially, although that seemed to be a bit of a habit with him…
His mom had been a little bit confused though. She’d asked, “Isn’t there a blood test to show if you have diabetes?”
“There is, and we’re going to test Percy’s blood to figure out how far along he is. But with all his symptoms I can diagnose him today.”
He wasn’t sure how to feel about that either. The thing he’d been suffering through for months was enough of a symptom that combined with everything else he could be diagnosed without the blood test?
Still, a stack of paper with diabetes 2 information, two doses of a capsule and a handful of creams for his ongoing issue, 500mg of metformin once a day and instructions to find a blood glucose test… thing later he and his mom were leaving the hospital and stopping into a pharmacy.
He felt bad.
He felt really bad that he was costing his mom so much money.
Sure, they were much better off now, and he was… half sure Paul wouldn’t mind helping with paying, but at the same time… It just felt like so much money… Like so much work. The diagnosis sounded like it would be so much work without considering how much it would cost…
But his mom refused to listen to his protests. She pulled him into the pharmacy and handed the prescriptions and recommended creams to the pharmacist, and she got him everything the doctor recommended.
He was certain she’s realised what his ongoing problem was when she saw the prescriptions for them, but she didn’t say anything, and he was unbelievably thankful for that. There were just some things he didn’t want to share with everyone, no matter how close he was to them.
The metformin tablets turned out to be a bit of a problem though… Apparently, he couldn’t swallow tablets. Yup, so he could add that to the list of frustrating things he suffered from. Strangely enough, he could take the capsule fine enough, but every time he tried to take the tablet he just… gagged.
So came the pill crusher and a thick, incredibly flavoured juice to try and help him take them.
He just felt so… stupid…
Somehow he had diabetes. Now he couldn’t swallow tablets which he’d potentially need to take forever. And eventually he’d need to find a blood glucose machine thing and poke himself however many times a day with a needle.
Everything about it just felt so… pathetic…
He was this reliable, strong demigod, a friend you could always rely on to help you! To fix things! And now this. How could be look after others when he couldn’t even look after himself… How could he looked after others when he apparently looked after himself so badly he had diabetes…
He just felt stupid…
And when they eventually got the blood glucose machine, they couldn’t even get enough blood for the damn strip thing so that the machine could measure his blood sugar. Admittedly he ended up retreating to his room and getting angry at himself.
But eventually the machine worked! Yay! His blood sugar was still pretty bad, but yay! Everything was slowly getting on track.
He was taking his tablets everyday, he was doing the blood test every morning and night, and then he added the middle of the day so that he had more data for whenever he went back to a doctor.
Percy was figuring things out.
Until he wasn’t.
Personally, considering the fact that he didn’t know what anything he was doing was, well… supposed to do, he was doing a pretty good job of faking it.
A needle in his finger 3 times a day? Easy.
A tablet, crushed up and mixed into juice? No problem.
What did the needle or tablet do? …He had a vague idea, but only a vague one and only about those two things. He had jackshit idea about what to do with any other part of his life, but he was trying.
He thought he was doing okay. So why did he feel so… shitty…?
*****
The day had been shit so far.
Percy woke up late, no big deal. So he went to try and do his glucose test just like he did whenever he woke up any other morning since his diagnosis. He prepped the strip in the machine, put the new needle into the… needle-poky thing, and he pressed it against his finger.
His mom had done the prick for him the first couple times (although it also failed a couple times…), and he’d done it impulsively when home alone. He’d set everything up, knowing he wouldn’t actually be able to do it, and he’d accidentally poked his finger. It hadn’t hurt to badly, and despite startling him it had given him a moment of confidence to try himself.
And he did it!
His mom had been proud of him.
Paul had been proud of him.
He wasn’t ashamed, although maybe a tad embarrassed, to admit that he’d hugged his mom and let a few tears let loose. It was small, it was so small compared to the feats he’d accomplished before, and yet the fact that he managed to do it alone and his mom and dad were proud of him had just… pushed him over.
Percy had done the test himself ever since then, although for the next few times he’d still done it while sitting with his mom and Paul.
There shouldn’t have been an issue now. He’d been doing the test 3ish times a day for a week and a half.
So why were his hands shaking? Why was his heart starting to race at the idea of pressing the button and pricking his finger to get a droplet of blood? Why had he frozen?
“C’mon… it’s not that hard…” he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes and tilting his head upwards, trying to pretend that he was just… tapping his finger. Hoping he could press the trigger and prick his finger without… doing it consciously. Without thinking about pricking his finger.
The small prick felt worse today for some reason. More painful.
So why did no blood come out?
He frowned, squeezing the sides of his finger to try and coax a drop out, but nothing came out. So, with great reluctance and just a hint of frustration, he tried on another finger. There was some blood this time, but certainly not enough for a droplet.
He sat there quietly for a moment, just… frustrated. He stared at the glucose machine with the strip all ready, and the small, shiny needle point poking out from the device you loaded it into.
“...Fuck…” he groaned, letting his head fall back for a moment. He clenched his jaw, trying to push away the pulsing in his ears. …Maybe today just wasn’t his day. Yeah… maybe he’d try again tonight…
Percy decided that maybe he should eat something instead, food made everything better, right? So out he went to the kitchen, completely alone in the apartment and disappointed in his own failure. It was just a droplet of blood… how hard was it to get a droplet of blood?
*****
An hour later he was just blankly staring at the ceiling while sprawled across the couch, one of his legs propped over the back of the cushions.
He didn’t feel like eating. At all. Why was that? Usually he could always eat something, but there was nothing in the house that he felt like eating, and he didn’t want to waste food when he didn’t want to eat it…
He could call someone… but he didn’t feel like luring any monsters to the apartment at the moment, and he didn’t want to have to explain to anyone in his other life why he was iris messaging so abruptly. How would everyone react to him having… this?
“...What ‘m i s’posed to do now?” he mumbled quietly, turning his head to gaze at the TV, frowning. He could… sleep? Go outside and walk aimlessly around? Try and study for school? …Just sit there and waste the day?
So, obviously, that’s what he did. Between just ambling around the apartment, opening the fridge and cupboards and hoping something to eat just appeared, which obviously didn’t happen.
By the time his mom and Paul returned he was in his room, just sitting on his bed feeling pathetic.
He couldn’t do the blood test, couldn’t force himself to eat, couldn’t find anything to do…
He sniffed quietly, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. Were guys supposed to go through mood swings like this? Was he supposed to be on the verge of crying because a couple things had gone wrong today? Because that was what was happening right now.
A knock on his door interrupted his little wallowing session and he quickly wiped his eyes, clearing his throat slightly.
“Yes?”
“Percy?” His mom called, her voice easing tension he didn’t even realise was there. “Can I come in for a moment?”
“Yeah.” He hoped it hadn’t looked like he was crying, because he wasn’t crying. He’d just been… his eyes had just been a little bit watery. That’s all.
His mom cracked open his door before stepping inside, gently smiling at him as she walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge. “Have you eaten yet, sweetheart?” she asked softly, this strangely knowing look in her gentle, blue eyes.
Telling the truth probably would’ve been best, but he hated the idea of making her worry even more than she currently was. So he just smiled and nodded, ignoring the trickle of guilt he felt for lying.
“Mmm, well just in case Paul and I picked up some extra snacks,” she said softy, gently patting Percy’s arm. “You know, we’re so proud of you,” she said, smiling at her son.
Percy blinked. “...What?”
“I know this whole situation has been tough on you, and Paul and I are so proud of how you’re handling everything,” she explained, squeezing his arm slightly. “The change in diet, the blood tests, everything. We’re just… I’m so proud of you.”
He stared at her for a moment, and before he could even properly process her words, his vision was starting to get blurry, and a warm droplet was running down his cheek.
His mom’s smile somehow managed to soften even further, and when she reached out to pull him into a hug he leaned into her, sniffing quietly and burying his face against her shoulder.
“Your dad would be proud too,” she murmured softly, gently threading her fingers through his hair.
He smiled slightly, a small laugh escaping him as he hugged his mom tighter. “...Love you…”
She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I love you too, sweetheart.”