A LOW
Guy looked possessed as he stumbled into the bedroom. His eyes were glazed and sweat poured down his face dripping onto his shirt, which I quickly realized was already saturated. It had come over him in a matter of minutes, just since he’d gone to brush his teeth. He was confused and disoriented. As had happened several times before, during our past three years dealing with TD1, he became angry when I tried to help him. I’d learned that during a bad diabetic low it wasn’t Guy who was angry, it was the mayhem of the malady that had taken control of his body and his rational thinking.
“Think quickly, do something!” I thought, as my mind raced. You’re never prepared for this because it’s as unpredictable as a wild animal. I needed help. I’d started weightlifting so that I could lift his torso enough when he fell onto the floor, to pour apple juice into his mouth and administer the emergency shot of glucagon. But this was a bad one, and I had no choice. I needed help. My then 10-year-old daughter was well aware of our rare, yet serious confrontations with a severe low.
My husband’s gut reaction deep from within was “Not the child... keep her away from this horror.” But in his state, he couldn’t vocalize it. Even if he could have, I wouldn’t have listened. I couldn’t. I had to get him carbs before he passed out. He tried to push me away, staring at our daughter and shaking his head. Perspiration poured from his temples as tears streamed from my eyes. He was a different person now.
Our daughter had witnessed two bad lows before. One time he’d thrown a water bottle, and the other time, thankfully, we’d heard a thud in the hallway and found him on the floor. She’d had to stay with him while I got the shot and the juice, and had helped me prop him up to administer them.
This time, it was too far gone. She and her friend who was sleeping over called 911.
Battling a monster
A severe diabetic low can be horrific. For the diabetic, it’s a living nightmare, a state of blur where you’re suddenly out of control and battling a monster that’s trying to control your body and mind. For the caregiver, it’s equally terrifying, as you see someone you love transform so rapidly and so completely into someone they are not.
Severe diabetic lows are rare, but real. Two years ago, Guy finally agreed to wear a continuous glucose monitor which sends a piercing beeping signal to his phone, as well as mine and my daughter’s, to alert a high or low number. When this happens, we immediately call him.
My husband was diagnosed with TD1, out of the blue. After having an insatiable thirst, needing to urinate constantly, and then discovering he'd lost 9 pounds in four days, he arrived home on a Tuesday evening the color of dusty ash. He’d seen an intern covering for his regular doctor a few days prior, who'd said his blood sugar “was a little high,” and sent him off with a bottle of Metforim and a glucose monitor.
On that nearly deadly April evening, we took his sugar and the machine said “Hi,” which prompted me – while he trained a client in our home gym – to immediately search Google for what that meant. Google didn’t mess around with its answers. All were in caps or bold and some in red, and each urged to get to the emergency room a.s.a.p. The client left and my husband procrastinated as long as he could, until I finally got him into the car. We arrived to learn his number was well over 600. If he’d had dinner that night, the number would have risen to the point of a diabetic coma and probably death.
That weekend, he was suddenly a type 1 diabetic and was dependent on insulin to survive. Our lives would change dramatically and I quickly learned that though there are so many support groups out there for all kinds of illnesses, other than some blogs, those didn’t seem to exist for spouses of a TD1. You just had to figure it out yourself. We couldn’t count on most family or friends to “get it,” because they didn't see what goes on behind the scenes or understand why, for instance, my husband can’t have a traditional holiday meal. Finger pricking to draw blood and test his sugar, along with long acting and short acting insulin shots and carb counting became part of our daily routine.
At first, Guy was really down about his diagnosis and subsequent lifestyle change. Who would have thought that a former nationally-ranked marathon runner would have to test his blood 10 times a day or give himself shots to survive? TD1 doesn’t discriminate. You can be the best athlete in the world and it can strike. Olympic swimmer Gary Hall Jr., US gymnast Carlotte Drury, Kansas City Chiefs tight end Noah Gray, Australian pro basketball player Lara McSpadden, two-time Paralympic tandem cycling medalist Pamela Fernandes, and Canadian pro hockey player Max Domi, who released a book about balancing blood sugar management and hockey, are just a few examples.
Fortunately, we’re both optimists, and since his diagnosis, Guy has come to find the silver lining in what some consider a perpetual cloud of living with TD1. He directs an agency called Back on Track. He motivates and counsels kids and teens going through all sorts of varying life challenges in the context of health and fitness. He educates them about his disease, showing them what it’s like to give himself a shot of insulin. He has worked with a number of kids with TD1 as well as obese kids who are at risk for becoming pre- or full-type 2 diabetic.
Now, instead of diabetes, my husband calls it “livabetes.” It may be an inconvenience at times, but he uses it to educate the kids with whom he works. He now wears his continuous glucose monitor proudly, and gives a thumbs up when he encounters someone else wearing the same white circle on their arm.
TD 1 vs TD 2 (Emedicinehealth.com)
Type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune condition where the body’s immune system attacks the pancreas, preventing it from producing insulin. The cause is a gray area, but studies show that it can pop up months or, in Guy’s case, years after having a very high fever when for some reason the body attacks and destroys pancreas function. Type 2 diabetes is a hormonal condition where the body doesn’t respond properly to insulin, or the pancreas doesn’t produce enough insulin. People with type 1 diabetes need insulin medicine because their bodies can’t make it. People with type 2 diabetes can manage their condition with diet and exercise, and some may need insulin when their pancreas stops making it.
Part two of this two-part series will be entitled “When You Have To Become an Expert in Something You’ve Never Been Trained to Do.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Laurie Gordon is the owner/director of Motivation Ink Services, a publicist and writing agency based in Sussex County, New Jersey. She has written for numerous magazines, newspapers and websites. She has done a host of public relations work for varying businesses, individuals and nonprofits. After she wrote a story about a devastating storm that hit New Jersey, she was contacted by and featured live on The Weather Channel. Laurie is a former US Olympic Marathon Trials qualifier who was sponsored by Nike and whose women’s team won the team division at the prestigious Boston Marathon. She works with women and teens as a personal trainer. Laurie volunteers coaching children through The Bears Youth Running Program. MotivationInkServices@gmail.com
Read the article here.