Diabetes Bloopers

Today's topic for Diabetes Blog Week is Diabetes Bloopers:

Whether you or your loved one are newly diagnosed or have been dealing with diabetes for a while, you probably realize that things can (and will) go wrong.  But sometimes the things that go wrong aren’t stressful - instead sometimes they are downright funny!  Go ahead and share your Diabetes Blooper - your “I can’t believe I did that" moment - your big “D-oh” - and let’s all have a good laugh together!!

This isn't necessarily a diabetes d'oh moment, but it is my favouritest ever medical moment! (Actually, the one I referenced in the previous post...)

It happened the first morning I was in the hospital after finding out I had diabetes. Unbeknownst to me Nurse H, the heavily perfumed and make-upped diabetes nurse, would waltz into my room at a bright and early 6 am. VERY CHIPPER. She carried with her a scale and a class full of nursing students. 

Later, I would find out, I was the talk of the ward, as no one there had ever seen a real live type 1 diabetic (I am assuming at that point 'diabetic' was all they saw me as, because most of them certainly didn't treat me like a person...) 

At any rate, in paraded Nurse H and her posse of students. She then cheerily woke me up from near DKA coma state, threw down that scale and happily ordered me to jump out of bed and hop on. 

Now, I'm sure anybody reading this who has diabetes knows all too well that you don't feel too shit hot after having high blood glucose levels for weeks on end. But I don't want to assume everyone reading this knows, so just in case you don't, let's just say I wasn't too into the idea of waking up and getting out of bed... Or, actually, let's just say I was maybe only capable of partial consciousness...

Blearily, I rolled out of bed and tried really, really hard to stand on that scale. REALLY HARD... but I kept falling off. I just couldn't seem to balance right and every time Nurse H went to read my weight I'd start tilting over and have to step off one foot to steady myself. Me being bright I thought up the perfect solution, and put my arms straight out to steady myself... but I still kept falling off. 

Of course, I thought it was hilarious and proceeded to express this by giggling really loud... Somehow, though, when I looked around, no one else was laughing-- actually, I would say they were all pretty flippin' serious... Which made me laugh even harder, because it made in all the more absurd.

At this point, we come to my proudest medical moment ever, because as I wobbled around with my arms out-stretched and giggling, I yelled out: 

"Oh my God!!!! I'M LIKE AN AIRPLANE!!!!!!!!!!" 

Nobody laughed. I still don't know how they got me to eventually stand on that scale. I was completely out of my head...

My only regret in the whole incident is not having had the wherewithal to have caught a glimpse of Nurse H's face, because I am sure she was mortified... She was, after all, showing off her only ever type 1 specimen. 

From time to time I wonder if the student nurses that attended class that day walked away thinking my actions prototypical behaviours for type 1 diabetes... Secretly, as long as they didn't end up working in diabetes care, I kind of hope that's exactly what they took away from that morning.

Letter Writing Day

Today's topic for Diabetes Blog Week is Letter Writing Day:

You can write a letter to diabetes if you’d like, but we can also take it one step further.  How about writing a letter to a fictional (or not so fictional) endocrinologist telling the doctor what you love (or not) about them.  How about a letter to a pretend (or again, not so pretend) meter or pump company telling them of the device of your dreams?  Maybe you’d like to write a letter to your child with diabetes.  Or a letter from your adult self to the d-child you were.  Whomever you choose as a recipient, today is the day to tell them what you are feeling.

Dear 15-year-old Self,

If this time-machine thing works out as planned, it's January of 1994 and you're sitting in the car on the way to the hospital. Yes, you have diabetes. No, no matter how much you bargain with the ether, it isn't going to go away. You are about to enter a medical system that does not do well with informing young people of what is going on. So, let me give you the heads up on some of the things that are going to happen over the next eight days:

1. When your parents bring you toileteries from home MAKE SURE THEY BRING YOU SOME DECENT/NORMAL SMELLING SOAP. The Bacto-Stat soap they give you to use in the hospital smells like disease. So discomforting.
2. They are going to TAKE YOUR BLOOD EVERY FOUR HOURS, EVEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. It will freak you right out the first night, because nobody told you it was coming. 
3. They are going to WAKE YOU UP AT 6 AM THE FIRST DAY YOU ARE THERE. Since you are still practically in a coma you will do something (that maybe only you ever find) incredibly funny. Enjoy it. 
4. That first morning they wake you up at 6 am THEY WILL BRING AN ENTIRE NURSING CLASS TO OBSERVE YOU. No one will ask if it's okay. They will just barge right in like it is their right to do so. If you don't want them there, tell them to leave... but not until after you do the incredibly funny thing.
5. There will be a nurse that comes in to your room. She will not even greet you. Whatever you do, DO NOT LET THIS NURSE GRAB YOUR ARM! She will take something called a Heparin Lock (or Hep-Lock). It will look like a long large gauge needle and she will just shove it in your arm. They will tell you it is so they can take blood from this IV instead of always taking it from your arm, where it will hurt and bruise. BEWARE: This is a lie! There will be only one nurse with the Heparin and she will generally not be available. Then, they will just take the blood from your arm anyways!!! So, for the love of God, I repeat: DO NOT LET THIS NURSE GRAM YOUR ARM.

In general, diabetes will be a lonely disease for a very long time. People will help out (and that will be awesome), but no matter how many are in the waiting room you still have to learn to go into those doctor encounters alone. Growing up people will feel badly for you, they may call you 'brave' or 'courageous'... even though you don't feel sad for yourself, nor brave about any of it. Don't let people treat you like your porcelain or fragile (I know that you won't!) Don't strive to be normal-- it's a bullshit social construct. Do visit the Banting House in London, ON sooner; it will give you a greater appreciation for wonderful it is that you get to finish high school, go to university (ugh, THREE degress... I know), make great friends and love a lot. Most of all feel proud of yourself, because you will handle a complex chronic illness (in combination with the lot of crappy life circumstances you already know about) with grace and determination... and that's all anybody can ask.

Sincerely and with love,

Your 33-year-old self.

A hospital envelope surprise.

I came home to find a letter from the hospital that I visited back in May. I thought at first it was asking for a donation, but when I opened it the letter was a survey asking about my experience! There were about fifty or sixty questions in total and a spot to relay extra information about the visit to the ER, all of which I obligingly filled out. I was very happy to fill it out for several reasons:

1. It's so very rare that we, the patients, get to give our feedback.

2. I was glad I got to speak to more than just wait times. These were some of the questions I that I found more thoughtful: "Did the doctors/nurses talk in front of you as if you weren't there?" "If you had any anxieties or fears about your condition or treatment, did a doctor/nurse discuss them with you?" "Did you have enough say about your care?" "Did someone in the Emergency Department help get your messages to family or friends?" I like these, because it shows that there is an understanding that hospital experiences are not just about expediency, but also about comunication and respecting patients feelings during what can be very stressful times.

3. In the space provided I was able to tell them that, while I found most nurses be attentive, kind and knowledgeable and my doctor was really superb... there was still that one nurse to whom I relayed the fact that my blood sugars were low and it took her a whole 10-15 minutes to bring me a rather small glass of juice... and the only reason she gave it to me at all was because they were taking me to x-ray and I passed her in the hall- she'd left my juice on the counter at the nursing station. (For some reason I failed to mention this in my original post- somehow I just forgot about it!)

Anyway, the moral of the story is that I wish these questionnaires were a more regular thing. I've had a number of visits to ER's (though curiously, never for the diabeetus... except for diagnosis...) and this is the first time ever I've received anything like this. Who knows if they actually listen to what is written, but I'd like to think that if they took the time and money to send out the survey in the first place, they too take their patient's needs and wishes to heart.

Questions to an X-Ray Technician...

So I moved my rheumatology appointment up two weeks, because I've had really bad back pain lately. Usually it's mostly in my hip joints and lower back, but the stiffness was the the point that it was throughout my entire spine in the morning, culminating in me not being able to touch my toes or move my head around to look past my shoulder. I went in today and had about a dozen x-rays taken of my back and hips. The technician was so polite. He kept saying sorry every time he had to adjust my hips for the image. Eventually I told him it was okay, he didn't need to apologize, I'd had enough x-rays done over time I knew the drill and it was okay.

And then, as I was lying on my back looking at the muted orange pot-lights that seem to line all of these diagnostic rooms, I thought "I guess this is not everyone else reality." Which is kind of dumb that it's somehow taken me this long to realize. I think I know the x-ray set up in every hospital in central Toronto. I know which hospitals have the nicest staff at their ER's. I can tell you how long you'll likely be in an ER depending on the location and the time of day. And when I think about moving, I think about proximity to hospitals and doctors. Anyway, that's just a tangent... Back to the x-rays: I was lying on my back looking at the lights and for some reason being in a clean gown (no matter how fugly it is) and lying on clean linen and being gently proded around I suddenly thought, "I feel like a baby." And then I almost started to cry... But then I thought, "OMG, Virtue, don't you dare start crying here" and tried to imagine the uncomfortable converstation that would ensue with the very polite technician.

In the end, I got up and asked my standard x-ray technician question: Do you look at people differently after being able to see their insides all day? (It's part of this stupid experiment I have going. There's no real purpose to it, I think I figure if diabetes changes how I look at all things food related, then maybe taking x-rays does the same? I also wonder how people get their heads around seeing someone's bones, but then having them as a real person in front of them. It just seems weird to me. Don't know...)

This round's technician's response was a little different, because I think I was kind of nervous after nearly breakind down in the room... I think he thought I asked if all x-rays looked the same regardless of person? At any rate, his response (and I'm paraphrasing, of course, so take that into account) was that people pretty much look the same in x-rays, unless there is obvious trauma; just some people are bigger and some people are smaller.

I just realized, as writing this, I think he was actually a really good technician. I don't think I would have felt like I could feel emotional and present about things if I wasn't comfortable/feeling safe with my surroundings.

(I covertly took this picture for your viewing pleasure!
Apparently it is me/patient carrying an old TV with my bones in it!)

Diabetes Blog Week... THWARTED!

Well, seems like Lungs got jealous of this weeks spotlight on Defunct Pancreas and decided to rebel. On the weekend I stayed at a friends house, looking after their kids while they went out. I started feeling kind of wheezy and my airway started kind of constricting. I'm allergic to a lot of frangrance and this has happened before. Usually, once I get away from whatever it is that is bothering me, the difficulty breathing dies down. But it kept going... for one day... and then two days... and then on the third day, I started scaring my co-worker with my gasps for breath throughtout the afternoon. I got home and it got worse. The steroid inhaler that I take everyday wasn't helping. I finally decided it was time to haul out the Ventolin, but it did nothing to help either (except annoy Defunct Pancreas and raise my bloodsugars).

I kind of knew at this point that I was in trouble, but I play this silly game whenever I realize I should visit the ER. In Ontario the government has a service called Telehealth, whereby you can call a number and speak to a registered nurse about medical questions/issues. So, my silly game is that every time I know I should see a doctor I call them first. In my defense, though, sometimes they actually tell me it should be fine to wait to see my family doctor! This was totally not one of those times and the nurse on the other end told me to get my ass to emergency... and, so, I went...

First thing- visit triage nurse. They are generally grumpy creatures. I don't really blame them; they're the gatekeepers and I imagine they get bugged a lot, but at the same time it is kind of annoying to be the patient on the receiving end of their grumpy... especially when you can't breathe. She looked at my last name and said "Well, that's a weird last name." Then she reached my first name and said, "Oh, well, that's a weird first name so." She didn't comment on my middle name... because it is run-of-the-mill anglo-saxon? Don't know... Anyway, when I told her I was having trouble breathing she told me I seemed to be able to talk just fine. In my mind, I responded something like "Right. I'm just effing with you, 'cause sitting around in the ER is much more palatable way to spent my night than sleeping in my warm bed." In real life, though, I just said, "Oh, it's just my airways feel really constricted." Eventually, I got the wristbands and got to sit back down in the (aptly named) waiting room.

I'd been through this before and knew that if it being around 11pm when I arrived and not being in any sort of acute/dire emergency, I'd be leaving aroun 5am. I hunkered down and started to read school stuff. South Park was on... then some cosmetics advertising show... then Anderson Cooper... then... I don't remember. At some point I got called in to sit on a bed for about twenty minutes before seeing a doctor.

I don't particularly like ER doctors. I've had some really nice ones, but every now and then you get the jerks. (Remember that time in high school that I went to the hospital because I was throwing up everything under the sun, but had just taken a huge amount of insulin... and they "diagnosed" me with a stomach virus (as if I didn't know!), gave me a shot Gravol and sent me home, telling me I didn't need to be in the ER? Or how about the time I had a head injury and they told me the pain was from diabetes?) This time, though, the doctor was awesome! She listened to what I had to say and didn't relate any symptoms to my diabetes (bonus!) and was actually kind of funny (double bonus!)

Then, I went to a set of chairs to wait for chest x-rays to be done. The guy to my right was an older man with his son, who had hurt his foot. The guy to my left was a younger guy that had hurt his ankle... and the guy to his left... I don't know why he was there. He was missing his front teeth and was waiting for an x-ray of his neck. I don't think those things were related though. Everyone was really nice. Mostly we just sat in silence, but every now and then the older man beside me would grumble about the wait. I was the second last person to get x-rayed. The technician, coincidentally, also was missing his front teeth! Hockey players? Maybe not...

X-rays were good though! They let me look at them and the doctor pointed out what all the different parts of the images were... I liked seeing my heart in the middle (well, technically, slightly to one side) of my rib cage. That plus all the bones looked pretty together and I was glad to see that my insides didn't look nearly as bad as I felt they did... In the end, the doctor said that some of my lymph nodes were swollen and she suspected I was getting a cold, which exacerbated my allergies/asthma. She sent me home with a new Ventolin puffer at a higher dose. I had to take four puffs while I was there, before I left. Which, on my way home, led to me hack up a tonne of grossness that had been trapped in my lungs. Sounds icky, but it was the best feeling afterward.

I was back home and in bed by 5am. I thought that was pretty good time. I'm still not breathing the best, but am not to the point that I'm whistling through my throat/seeing stars... Oh, and I did end up getting that cold (high-five best ER doc ever!). I'm hoping when it passes, things will go back to (my) normal.

So, that's the story of my jealous Lungs and their attempts at glory. Sorry about missing out on the scheduled posts... But just to teach Lungs a lesson, I plan on completing them anyway over the next week.

Lions and Tigers and Bears?

If every story has a backstory, this is mine...

Grade 5
One of my schoolmates talked to the class about her sister's diabetes and the day-to-day routine since her diagnosis. She went through the symptoms: thirst, frequent urination, dry skin, fatigue, weightloss... I remember thinking "I have all of those... except one- weightloss." And with that, the posibility fled from my mind.

Grade 8
Preparing and presenting a speech was required every year of middle school. For some reason I chose to speak about the discovery of insulin.

Grade 10
Fall: Thisty. Really, really thirsty. Going to the bathroom a lot. Skin parched...

I thought I had a urinary tract infection and booked an appointment... Losing one pound, two pounds, five in a week...

It was a new doctor. She did a full physical. I remember handing a urine sample to the secretary at the front desk. She said, "We'll call you if anything is wrong, but I'm sure it will all be good." "I am sure it won't be," I thought as I left the office.

Winter break: Falling asleep while sitting watching TV at 6:30pm... The only thing I remember asking for Christmas was a belt, so my pants would stop feeling like they were falling off...

The new year: The doctor's office did call and asked my dad to take me to the lab for a few blood tests. Nobody told me why. Nobody needed to tell me why. I knew what it meant when they were testing first thing in the morning and then two hours after eating...

January 15th, 1994: I was eating dinner with my dad, my grandparents and my sister. I remember roast beef. The doctor phoned and told my dad that I needed to come back to the office. They wouldn't tell him why. He pressured them for answers. They still wouldn't tell him why. He started yelling. They told him nothing.

My stomach turned. I stared at the dinner on my plate, before finally just leaving the table.

At some point my dad phoned my previous physician. He asked them to obtain the test results...

January 16th, 1994: I went to school, but was pulled out of class and summoned to the office. My dad picked me up. The only thing I remember about this was sitting in the car driving to the hospital and thinking, "I promise to be a better person, if this just ends up going away."

January 17th, 1994: Holly- middle-aged, brown-hair, lots of make-up and strong perfume- the diabetes nurse/educator woke me up at 6 am. She and several others stood around as they asked me to step onto a scale.

NOT. A. MORNING-PERSON.

Being half asleep, I fell off several times before attempting to steady myself by spreading my arms out like airplane wings. It was a ridiculous scene; even half asleep I realized this and started laughing. I recall the event as highly entertaining for me; really uncomfortable for eveyone else.

The next seven days: I stayed in the hospital until the 24th.

Things to remember:

• Read The Catcher in the Rye.
• My mom sent me flowers. Part of the arrangement was gladiolas.
• My friends came to visit me, which was nice. One of them saw the bouquet and said, "Oh, I thought gladiolas were for funerals..." which was not nice.
• I made a weird looking basket.
• I learned to hate the smell of Bacti-Stat soap.
  
• Lots people in my family came to visit; my dad stopped by every night. This was the best part of my stay.
  
• The daytime when no-one was there was boring. I remember staring out the window. The curtains were ugly. I think they were orange.
  
• I made friends with one of the student nurses. She'd hide out in my room and we'd chat. It was from her I learned my sideshow status- I was the first type 1 diabetic any of the nursing staff had ever met in the flesh.
• Every hospital professional I met was eager to mention the promise of a cure in no more than 5 years.
  
• Had a heparin lock shoved into my arm without any warning. The nurse just grabbed my arm and, without any explaination, pushed the apparatus underneath the skin of my forearm. It was rather horrific.
• I got a day pass one day. I went to the mall with my dad. I bought some shirts. The sales lady kept staring at the heparin lock in my arm. I remember my dad saying that he couldn't help but think of me as a porcelain doll now.
  
• The staff made my dad and my sister learn how to give me injections. The idea behind this was that in the event that I was sick and unable to give myself the shot, either of them could step in. This always confused me, because I always figured that if I was so sick as to be incapacitated what I'd really like was to be spared being jabbed and taken to the hospital. When I think back to it, though, I find it especially unfair to my sister- she is terrified of needles and was was practically in tears when it was her turn to poke me. That's when I decided I really didn't like Holly and her perfume.
  
• Discovered insulin smells like Elastoplast band-aids.
  
• Annoying nurse on the night shift routinely woke me in the middle of the night to quiz me about the symptoms of hypoglycemia... I still wish I could show up at her bedside at 4 am to wake her up to quiz her about the symptoms of diabetes.
• Asked my endocrinologist if my life expectancy would be affected. She told me, without any hesitation, that diabetics generally live 1/3 less than the average population. It felt like a sucker punch... especially at 15.

Getting sprung: a day or two after leaving the hospital I went to see a movie with friends. It was Philadelphia, which in retrospect was not the best choice. Toward the end of the film, when Tom Hanks' character dies there is a scene of his wake. Playing on the television is a home movie from his childhood. I remember crying and not being able to stop. I couldn't explain why I was crying at the time. But, now I think I know why... and funny enough, that's actually the only time in my entire life that I cried about my diabetes.