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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "ambulance":

My mother had diabetes the last 20 years of her life. She was insulin-dependent but she wasn't Type 1 or Type 2. Mom had acute pancreatitis throughout the early '70s and had 90% of her pancreas removed just after the Blizzard of '77 in Buffalo. There was later some speculation that she had some beta cells left or some regenerated because Mom would have horrendous blood sugar swings seemingly out of nowhere.
I remember once going to a mall in a big city 2 hours from home a couple years after the surgery and ending up having an ambulance called for her. Mom kept eating sugar packets thinking she was low, and kept getting worse and worse. As I remember it, when she got to the hospital she was extremely high. (READ MORE)

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"I totaled my truck”  

 

I looked at my friend in shock. He did not look hurt or anything but his lower lip quivered enough to tell me it was bad.  

 

 

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It was a blizzard.

 

It was pouring.

 

It was the coldest day of the year.

 

It was the night our power went out.

 

Like a parent recalling the day their child came into the world, Susanne talked to Charlie, as he sat on her lap, about what happened five years ago this day. The day he was diagnosed with diabetes. Not nearly as uplifting as a birth story.

 

He listened intently to the story as if not knowing how it would end, interrupting only once to say, "I think I remember riding in the ambulance."

 

"I remember the binky constantly falling out of the crib in the hospital room," Susanne said.

 

I remember the crib looking industrial and cold. It was like a large cage.

 

"Where did we sleep?" Susanne asked.

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The fact that I have diabetes is not the first thing most people learn about me.  In reality, it's often one of the last things I reveal about myself.  An exception to this rule is disclosure in the workplace. 

 

Because I am hypoglycemic unaware, and because I don't think it's fair for a person to find out about my diabetes because I've either lost consciousness or behaved aggressively, I typically let the people I work with know what they might be up against.   It's never really "comfortable" to disclose - as I'm never sure how people might react - but I find that it's absolutely necessary.  

 

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               INT. BATHROOM - 6:45 PM

 

Carey is giving Maeve a bubble bath. He pretends to be a French hair stylist, snipping Maeve's hair with finger scissors and working her hair into a soapy lather.

 

CAREY

 

Voila! Very beautiful, I think. Do you like, mademoiselle?

 

Maeve giggles and nods

 

DOWNSTAIRS - LIVING ROOM

 

Susanne speaks on phone. Her tone is serious and with concern.

 

SUSANNE

 

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Charlie was diagnosed with diabetes four years ago today.
Charlie never was a good sleeper. So when his twenty-minute naps changed to two-hour naps in the late summer of 2003, we saw it as a godsend. By September and into early October, we had to wake him from naps approaching three hours.
Suddenly he lost interest in eating. Susanne thought he surely had some sort of stomach virus brewing. But he never got sick.
Soon after, his appetite for fluids increased greatly as he voraciously guzzled tall glasses of milk and clawed at the refrigerator for more. It was never enough. This was followed by Charlie often waking up in the middle of the night drenched in urine from neckline to toe. I can remember Susanne constantly changing the sheets in the crib. (READ MORE)

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Last night, I dreamt diabetes had been cured. It was, in both real-life and dream time, a short dream. I feel asleep around midnight, and woke at 12:30 or so.

 

In my dream, I had just been given my "cure diabetes" shot. Apparently, whatever was in the syringe they'd injected had been powerful stuff, because they had my hands tied to the hospital bed as they injected me and I struggled and fussed against the pain in my arm. The doctor then came in and declared me "cured."

 

I walked out of the hospital alone. And I sat in my car in the parking lot and cried. When I looked in the back of my car, I saw it was filled with Orange Hostess Cupcakes, chocolate milk, and TAB cola. I continued to cry, sobbing so in my dream that the tears spilled over into real life.

 

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Health insurance seems like a big mystery to me.  Not for nothing, but employer to employer the employee contribution, access to services, co-payments, and deductibles vary so widely it seems that changing jobs - and therefore health insurance - is like moving to another planet.

 

 

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I need to get Olivia a new Medic Alert bracelet. Hers broke a while back and I've jury-rigged it together, but it continues to fall off. I had her leave it at home while she was at camp.
I hear from a lot of people who don't like the bog standard Medic Alert bracelets. They're too plain, too boring, not enough like jewelry. Isn't that the point, though? Shouldn't a Medic Alert stand out so that the paramedics can see it if something happens? That's the whole point of them, no?
I know there are a lot of pretty/cute/funky medical bracelets. There are beaded ones, plastic ones and sports bracelets. I've never had one of those for Olivia. Maybe because she was diagnosed so young and never had a choice in the matter, but she's always had the boring old stainless steel bracelet. She's never put up much of a fuss over it and I've never given her the option of getting anything different. (READ MORE)

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Most of the time, diabetes is a heavy weight to carry.  It overwhelms the body, the soul, and the mind sometimes.  During sick times, the physical management is challenging.  During healthy times, the physical management is challenging.  During all times, the mental and emotional management is near impossible.

 

But even with the load of diabetes on my back, sometimes it smiles on me.  Sometimes, it shows me the kindness of others in a way I would never have experienced without it.  Sometimes, it brings the most light-filled, heartening, beautiful people into my world.  Sometimes, it shows me my own true grit, my own ability to overcome extraordinary challenges.  Diabetes opens doors that, without the weight of chronic illness, would stay closed.

 

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