The “G” Word
I’ve been “fluffy” with these last posts. Partly for me, and partly because I HATE making Diabetes out to be a monster (because let’s face it, although Diabetes IS a monster, 1. I hate to point out the obvious, 2. it doesn’t even deserve to be in the same category as Loch Ness and 3. I’ve always felt that almost gives it power) but the other night, my….okay well, it’s super complicated how I actually know her and her daughter, so let’s say, friend – had a scare with her daughter. Her sweet little girl is still in grade school and having to deal with adult situations … called Type 1 Diabetes.
Her strong-as-a-bull daughter had to have the glucagon shot. Now, this word literally sends shivers down my spine and pain to my heart, the way no other word can. It’s almost pathetic how one word can put so much fear in me, but it does.
When I was 13 years old, my sugar got so low that I became unresponsive, and despite my mother’s 3am testings…I got way too low. From what I’ve been told, my daddy gave me the glucagon after they couldn’t wake me for school. What I remember? Waking up with my mouth hurting, an insane headache and in the hospital. Turns out, I had a seizure, bit the crap out of my tongue, (To this day, I can show you how badly it was chewed in the waaaaaaaay way back) and was taken to the hospital. (que angry music) This is where I get mad…I had done nothing different. My parents had done nothing different. Yet, like Kristen (who was only trying to save her daughter) got told this:
ER doc: “Since she has type 1 diabetes and has a pump, you’re in charge of her insulin so you should be able to control it”
Kristen: “Well she got the same amount of insulin last week and was fine so…… Sugar changes with hormones, food, sickness, the time of day, and whatever else it friggin wants to change with. There is no ‘controlling’ diabetes, you manage it”
Why, oh why, place blame at a time like that? Why do anything but help the child ad comfort the parent? Mind you, I’m not bashing hospitals, nurses, DRs, any of it. BUT C’MON! Think of what you and your family just went through- and an ER dr is telling you that?? Maybe I’m weaker than I thought because had I have known what was going on that night in the hallway on July 4, 2003, or had I been Kristen the other night – – I’d be in jail.
So many different things can effect a diabetics’ blood sugar. When it was really hot outside, my grandfather’s blood sugars would get low while mine wouldn’t. And when I was in middle school, I would eat the same afternoon snack, at the snack time everyday, and follow the exact same afternoon routine, yet my sugars could differ by 150 points. It doesn’t make sense and that’s the life of a diabetic. Constant uncertainty.
No one has the right to make you feel like you did anything wrong by saving your child’s life. And anyone who has a problem with that? Let me meet you somewhere so you can become reeeaaal familiar with my fist.
The moral of the story to this is a universal one : Don’t judge someone’s situation until you know alllll the facts. And when dealing with a diabetic-parent, make sure you know what you’re talking about!
Only a betic-parent will ever truly understand what a betic-parent goes through.