First Call

I remember the first time I had to call for an ambulance but the details are hazy. Stephen had over-slept just a bit, not by much I think it was around ten or eleven o'clock. We tried to wake him up but he was very lethargic. I checked his sugar and it was 27, I didn't freak out but I was scared. I called 911 and got them on the way then called my sister-in-law to come get the kids.

I can recall the expression on my son's face. It was one of both excitement and anguish. Somewhere in between I called Steve's mother. The paramedics weren't the best group. There were two interns, I guess you'd say, and they had a lot to learn yet.The actual paramedics weren't the brightest either. They squirted some sugar gel stuff in his mouth and eventually he started to come around. One of the interns checked Steve's sugar every couple of minutes. The issue I had with that is she pricked his finger every time. I told her she could "milk" the last spot instead of re-sticking him. She had no idea what I was talking about but at last the female paramedic stepped in knowing what I had meant. You can squeeze upwards on the finger, much like milking a cow, to make it bleed again.

After is sugar rose and Stephen was awake and semi-alert the paramedics asked me if I still wanted him to go to the hospital. He explained that there would be no point in it since his sugar levels were coming up. So I told him no. He gave me a paper to sign stating that I refused the ride. The wording bothered me as I had not refused but was convinced. I signed it anyways and they left. I got Steve something to eat and he returned to himself. I explained to him everything that had happened because often when his sugar drops real low he has no recollection of any of it. He then got angry and said that the paramedics should have known to take him to the hospital for a blood and urine test to determine if his kidneys had shut down. That's when he told me that below 32 your kidneys can shut down. I was not happy.

I was glad that Stephen was okay. Later he got grouchy. His attitude was ferocious, snapping at everything I said. My reaction was buried deep inside me, I had selfish thoughts at first, thinking that I had just saved him and he had no gratitude. Eventually I went outside and vented on the phone to my sister-in-law and cried. I talked myself, with her help, back to reality. I assured myself that he was only acting that way because his sugar had dropped and he was feeling bad. It wasn't long after I overcome my self pity that I realized he was embarrassed. It was his own self repugnance that caused him to lash out at me.

We survived it, all of us. I knew it was the first of many similar episodes to come. I learned from it, gained knowledge and swore to do better next time. Yes, I felt as if it was my fault at first. I felt like it was my constraint and obligation to keep him healthy and alive. The thought still sits heavy on my heart. If I fail then I am a disappointment. I know this is not entirely true but it is a feeling I get. Diabetes is a beast with which there is no compromise and we both continue with the never ending battle, not allowing it to conquer Steve physically or either of us mentally.