I think, having grown up with Diabetes such a prevalent factor in
my life — My mom was diagnosed with Type-1 ten years before I came onto
the scene — gave me a unique, if not cavalier attitude toward the
disease. (At least at first.)
Early On
My earliest memories of how it related to me are somewhat selfish. (Actually, this should come as no surprise, as most of my perspectives are selfish.)
Anyway, I recall nervously pinching my mom's upper arm while she administered her insulin injections. With one eye closed and her tongue extended, curved up to partially obscure her upper lip, she would line up the syringe like a golfer. She took a few practice swings, and then, suddenly — THWONK! — in it went.
I kept praying she wouldn't leave divots in my hand.
Actually, that part — the thought of an accidental dose of insulin — freaked me out. I constantly feared she'd stab my hand.
My mom had told me that too much insulin could be very dangerous, if not lethal, for a person. I asked what I should do if I accidentally got some in me.
"Eat some sugar," was her reply.
I used to have nightmares about being overdosed with insulin. I had a recurring dream of getting stabbed with an insulin syringe, and then frantically seeking as many forms of sugary medical help as I could find.
In retrospect, given all the ailments my mother faced in the last decade of her life — vision problems, heart conditions, kidney failure — it is likely her regular blood sugar was between 300-400 ml/dl on a regular basis. (For the record: with a fully functional-pancreas "Normal" is between 80 and 120 ml/dl.)
Keep in mind, this is me speculating more than a decade and a half after she died, but I need to also point out that the ability to test your blood glucose level at home didn’t even become available until the 1970s. Even with home testing available, the complicated process of swiping of blood onto a reagent strip, comparing shades of blue and aquamarine against a chart to determine an approximate range, was difficult at best. I can't imagine how a color-blind person would do it. There were countless times when my mom would call me into the bathroom for a second opinion about that.
"Does this look more like turquoise, or mustardy-blue?"
Prior to that, testing was done with urine, which allowed for accurate diagnosis of Diabetes, but was not accurate for current blood sugar levels. Instead, urine tests were like a snapshot of what your blood sugar was several hours earlier.
In the last 40 years, quick and accurate home testing with meters requiring smaller drops of blood has made tighter control of Diabetes more realistic.
Later Years
Mom had her first heart attack in 1991, right before Thanksgiving.
The following seven years were rocky, with her health improving and deteriorating, almost on a daily basis.
Starting in the early '80s, she'd had several blood hemorrhages in her eyes, occasionally rendering her completely blind. As time passed, she had kidney problems, and heart trouble.
Mom was a trooper though, never losing faith in a God that could heal, even though He inexplicably never healed her of her Diabetes.
Despite her faith, her health continued to wane as the years ground on.
In early 1999, I saw my mom on her feet for the last time. We were at a sort of wake following the passing of her mother. Mom looked better than I had seen her in years. She looked almost vibrant. Needless to say, I cherish that memory.
At the time, I lived at the opposite end of the state from her, 300 miles away attending college.
A few weeks later, I spoke with her on the phone. She said she wasn’t feeling well. I wished her good health.
Not long after that, mom suffered more heart failures. She was hospitalized as her health continued to fade.
To use the metaphor of “God calling his children home,” I think God called my mom home in late February, ‘99 and her diligent doctors put God on hold. God called again a few days later on Line 2, on my mom’s 53rd birthday. Again, the medical professionals put God on hold.
My mom’s 53rd birthday was also the last day we saw her. I told her I loved her and said good-bye. She was barely aware of her surroundings.
A few days later, in early March, I received a call from my cousin. She told me all was not well at the hospital. I called the hospital and reached my mom’s older brother. He informed me my mom had passed away about 45 minutes before.
Despite living 300 miles away, I was in Seattle three hours later.
We were so shocked by the loss that we didn’t realize the full impact of what had happened for a long time to follow.
Closer to home
Nine months later, in January of 2000, my eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was diagnosed with Type-1 Diabetes. (I joked that her pancreas was not Y2K compliant. (I tend to joke a lot when I'm uncomfortable.))
Early On
My earliest memories of how it related to me are somewhat selfish. (Actually, this should come as no surprise, as most of my perspectives are selfish.)
Anyway, I recall nervously pinching my mom's upper arm while she administered her insulin injections. With one eye closed and her tongue extended, curved up to partially obscure her upper lip, she would line up the syringe like a golfer. She took a few practice swings, and then, suddenly — THWONK! — in it went.
I kept praying she wouldn't leave divots in my hand.
Actually, that part — the thought of an accidental dose of insulin — freaked me out. I constantly feared she'd stab my hand.
My mom had told me that too much insulin could be very dangerous, if not lethal, for a person. I asked what I should do if I accidentally got some in me.
"Eat some sugar," was her reply.
I used to have nightmares about being overdosed with insulin. I had a recurring dream of getting stabbed with an insulin syringe, and then frantically seeking as many forms of sugary medical help as I could find.
In retrospect, given all the ailments my mother faced in the last decade of her life — vision problems, heart conditions, kidney failure — it is likely her regular blood sugar was between 300-400 ml/dl on a regular basis. (For the record: with a fully functional-pancreas "Normal" is between 80 and 120 ml/dl.)
Keep in mind, this is me speculating more than a decade and a half after she died, but I need to also point out that the ability to test your blood glucose level at home didn’t even become available until the 1970s. Even with home testing available, the complicated process of swiping of blood onto a reagent strip, comparing shades of blue and aquamarine against a chart to determine an approximate range, was difficult at best. I can't imagine how a color-blind person would do it. There were countless times when my mom would call me into the bathroom for a second opinion about that.
"Does this look more like turquoise, or mustardy-blue?"
Prior to that, testing was done with urine, which allowed for accurate diagnosis of Diabetes, but was not accurate for current blood sugar levels. Instead, urine tests were like a snapshot of what your blood sugar was several hours earlier.
In the last 40 years, quick and accurate home testing with meters requiring smaller drops of blood has made tighter control of Diabetes more realistic.
Later Years
Mom had her first heart attack in 1991, right before Thanksgiving.
The following seven years were rocky, with her health improving and deteriorating, almost on a daily basis.
Starting in the early '80s, she'd had several blood hemorrhages in her eyes, occasionally rendering her completely blind. As time passed, she had kidney problems, and heart trouble.
Mom was a trooper though, never losing faith in a God that could heal, even though He inexplicably never healed her of her Diabetes.
Despite her faith, her health continued to wane as the years ground on.
In early 1999, I saw my mom on her feet for the last time. We were at a sort of wake following the passing of her mother. Mom looked better than I had seen her in years. She looked almost vibrant. Needless to say, I cherish that memory.
At the time, I lived at the opposite end of the state from her, 300 miles away attending college.
A few weeks later, I spoke with her on the phone. She said she wasn’t feeling well. I wished her good health.
Not long after that, mom suffered more heart failures. She was hospitalized as her health continued to fade.
To use the metaphor of “God calling his children home,” I think God called my mom home in late February, ‘99 and her diligent doctors put God on hold. God called again a few days later on Line 2, on my mom’s 53rd birthday. Again, the medical professionals put God on hold.
My mom’s 53rd birthday was also the last day we saw her. I told her I loved her and said good-bye. She was barely aware of her surroundings.
A few days later, in early March, I received a call from my cousin. She told me all was not well at the hospital. I called the hospital and reached my mom’s older brother. He informed me my mom had passed away about 45 minutes before.
Despite living 300 miles away, I was in Seattle three hours later.
We were so shocked by the loss that we didn’t realize the full impact of what had happened for a long time to follow.
Closer to home
Nine months later, in January of 2000, my eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was diagnosed with Type-1 Diabetes. (I joked that her pancreas was not Y2K compliant. (I tend to joke a lot when I'm uncomfortable.))
The
only light in that dark time was that we caught the disease right at onset, so there wasn't that all-too-frequent near-death experience that happens a lot so many cases of Diabetes.
Luckily, we had participated in a Diabetes Prevention Trial, and some of the test results indicated her pancreas was already in the process of failing. We tested her blood sugar regularly at the recommendation of her pediatrician. Back then, the litmus test for a diagnosis of Diabetes was two random blood sugars higher than 200.
Luckily, we had participated in a Diabetes Prevention Trial, and some of the test results indicated her pancreas was already in the process of failing. We tested her blood sugar regularly at the recommendation of her pediatrician. Back then, the litmus test for a diagnosis of Diabetes was two random blood sugars higher than 200.
The poor kid, she started having what you could almost describe as "allergic reactions" to sugar. Her behavior would spin out of control. She had her first ultra-high blood sugar on November 1, 1999 (day-after-Halloween... an endocrinologist's nightmare.) Her blood glucose level was higher than 200. (Strike One.)
Right around Christmas, the poor kid had to suffer multiple pokes at the behest of a sister who wanted ice cream. We'd told her we needed to way for Elizabeth's blood sugar to come down (it was Christmas season... it was supposed to be high.) Every five minutes, her sister would ask, "Bethy, can you check your blood sugar? Bethy, can you check your blood sugar?"
Shortly after Elizabeth's diagnosis, we realized even more deeply what had happened the previous March: The family’s foremost expert on Type-1 Diabetes was lost to us forever.
Four months after my eldest daughter was diagnosed, I started experiencing unfamiliar behavior of my own. I was working as an overnight 9-1-1 dispatcher in rural North Idaho, serving as the sole dispatcher for the county during the graveyard shift.
I was finding it harder and harder to stay awake during the dark hours, and started drinking some sort of macho “RIPPED FUEL OPTIMAX” drink that was loaded with caffeine, ephedrine, and about a billion grams of carbohydrate.
Despite all the caffeine, I started falling asleep on shift. Not a good thing to do: as I stated previously, I was the only dispatcher in the county, and was in physical distress. But there was nobody for me to call for help … because I was asleep.
I was suspended for falling asleep on duty. During my unplanned free time, a few surprising things happened.
I started getting irritable. A
LOT.
I had my first (and only) adult bed-wetting experience (much to ex-wife’s chagrin.)
Finally, we put two and two and “EWWW” together. She tested my blood sugar using our daughter’s meter.
I was right around 200.
Even after we received that eye-opening news, I still had trouble recognizing high blood sugar early on.
Arguments would go something like this:
Me: RAWWWWRRR!!!!!
I had my first (and only) adult bed-wetting experience (much to ex-wife’s chagrin.)
Finally, we put two and two and “EWWW” together. She tested my blood sugar using our daughter’s meter.
I was right around 200.
Even after we received that eye-opening news, I still had trouble recognizing high blood sugar early on.
Arguments would go something like this:
Me: RAWWWWRRR!!!!!
She: I think you should check your blood sugar.
Me: Just because we're not getting along right now, you want me to pierce my flesh to suit your whims! Pierce my flesh!
Me: Just because we're not getting along right now, you want me to pierce my flesh to suit your whims! Pierce my flesh!
She: Paul...
Me: I need to pierce my flesh because I'm tired and not easy to get along with! Pierce my flesh!!!
(Yes, I actually said that... in public.)
Julie: I think you're high...
Me: Don't say that in public! (I was a police dispatcher at the time, and the last thing I needed was word getting around that I was "high.")
It Wasn't Over Yet
When my second-youngest daughter was diagnosed with Diabetes in 2003, we were ready (or at least, readier) but still overwhelmed.
There is just so much for all of us to do and learn. She quickly took control of her diabetes management. (She's now an adult.) She learned to give herself shots, test her blood sugar, check for ketones in her urine, and learn how tell how she feels when her blood sugar is not normal.
Both she and her older sister manage their diabetes without any intervention now. Both have insulin pumps (proof that God uses his people to create awesome things. (OK, I'll leave the theological oversimplification out of this. They're just awesome.))
As parents, we filled out reams of paperwork for school and extracurricular activities, monitored insulin, kept in contact with the doctor or endocrinologist for insulin adjustments, assisted on field trips (read: free Mariners games,) ordered supplies and medications … the list goes on, but the prize: healthy children, is worth all the effort, and more.
Me: I need to pierce my flesh because I'm tired and not easy to get along with! Pierce my flesh!!!
(Yes, I actually said that... in public.)
Julie: I think you're high...
Me: Don't say that in public! (I was a police dispatcher at the time, and the last thing I needed was word getting around that I was "high.")
It Wasn't Over Yet
When my second-youngest daughter was diagnosed with Diabetes in 2003, we were ready (or at least, readier) but still overwhelmed.
There is just so much for all of us to do and learn. She quickly took control of her diabetes management. (She's now an adult.) She learned to give herself shots, test her blood sugar, check for ketones in her urine, and learn how tell how she feels when her blood sugar is not normal.
Both she and her older sister manage their diabetes without any intervention now. Both have insulin pumps (proof that God uses his people to create awesome things. (OK, I'll leave the theological oversimplification out of this. They're just awesome.))
As parents, we filled out reams of paperwork for school and extracurricular activities, monitored insulin, kept in contact with the doctor or endocrinologist for insulin adjustments, assisted on field trips (read: free Mariners games,) ordered supplies and medications … the list goes on, but the prize: healthy children, is worth all the effort, and more.
The girls have done a phenomenal job of dealing with all this stuff.
Perhaps one of the most frustrating things (especially when you have high blood sugar and are therefore pre-irritable) about telling people about your condition is that so many people have opinions and misconceptions about Diabetes.
One of the greatest disservices ever done to the ailment was giving Type-One and Type-Two the same name. Both are issues of high blood sugar, but calling Type-Two the same thing as its counterpart would be the same as diagnosing someone who is nine months pregnant as being "clinically obese." Obesity and pregnancy may look similar on the surface, but they are completely unrelated beyond that.
Type-One Diabetes (or "Juvenile-Onset Diabetes,") is an autoimmune disorder in which your body suddenly decides your pancreas is a foreign body, and attacks it until it ceases to function.
Type-Two diabetes (or "Adult-Onset Diabetes" or "Impaired Glucose Tolerance,") is a problem where your pancreas continues produces insulin with great gusto, but your "insulin receptors" suddenly develop a sort of myopia and don't notice the insulin trying to deal with the sugars in your bloodstream, so they call for more and more insulin. Ultimately, this overproduction may eventually lead to the pancreas pooping out, and as a result, Type-Two Diabetics occasionally need to administer insulin shots. (This is where some of the cases of mistaken identity come in. Someone sees somebody taking insulin and automatically assume they now have Type-One Diabetes.)
In my novel, Phoenix Flight: Rise of the Phoenix Flight and subsequent books, all of which are set in the 22nd Century, I boldly chose to rename Type-Two Diabetes as Advanced Insulin Resistance Syndrome or "AIRS." Call it a semi-political statement, but I want people to know the difference.
What can you do?
Perhaps the greatest misconception about people with Type-1 diabetes is that they cannot have sugar.
While a diet that is high in sugar is bad for anyone, (and even worse for type-2 diabetics) it is wise, and a potentially life-saving habit for a diabetic person to carry some form of concentrated sugar to help treat dangerous low blood glucose levels.
What can you do?
Perhaps the greatest misconception about people with Type-1 diabetes is that they cannot have sugar.
While a diet that is high in sugar is bad for anyone, (and even worse for type-2 diabetics) it is wise, and a potentially life-saving habit for a diabetic person to carry some form of concentrated sugar to help treat dangerous low blood glucose levels.
To the uninitiated, please note: a low blood glucose level is eternally more immediately dangerous than high blood glucose is.
High blood glucose levels are also extremely dangerous, however, over a longer period of time. Blindness, kidney failure, heart disease and amputations can all result from years and years of untreated or partially-treated high blood glucose levels.
If you know a person with Diabetes, learn what his or her signs and symptoms are for highs and lows.
If you are diabetic don’t be afraid to tell people about it, or how they can help in an emergency.
We have taught and frequently review how to handle diabetic emergencies. The children know the difference between "asleep" and "unconscious" (not rousable, non-responsive.) From very early on, all the members of our household (even our youngest children) knew how to test blood sugar, call 9-1-1 and administer Glucagon.
If you’re a parent and have Diabetes, tell your kids what to do in an emergency. Explain to them what highs and lows mean.
And above all else... if you ask your young son to pinch your upper arm while you self-administer your shot, please please make sure you don't stab him in the hand.
High blood glucose levels are also extremely dangerous, however, over a longer period of time. Blindness, kidney failure, heart disease and amputations can all result from years and years of untreated or partially-treated high blood glucose levels.
If you know a person with Diabetes, learn what his or her signs and symptoms are for highs and lows.
If you are diabetic don’t be afraid to tell people about it, or how they can help in an emergency.
We have taught and frequently review how to handle diabetic emergencies. The children know the difference between "asleep" and "unconscious" (not rousable, non-responsive.) From very early on, all the members of our household (even our youngest children) knew how to test blood sugar, call 9-1-1 and administer Glucagon.
If you’re a parent and have Diabetes, tell your kids what to do in an emergency. Explain to them what highs and lows mean.
And above all else... if you ask your young son to pinch your upper arm while you self-administer your shot, please please make sure you don't stab him in the hand.
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