CHAPTER 1....My Early Years and DiagnosisSeptember 15, 1945 was the day. We had an appointment with a doctor in Salem, Virginia that day. He had ordered a blood sugar test to be done prior to that appointment. Mother and Daddy did not know what that test involved, or anything at all about "blood sugar". They had watched my health deteriorate over the preceding months and my pale, skinny body clearly showed I was very ill. There was much weight loss and no appetite. My other symptoms included drinking much water and passing urine frequently, in large amounts. I was weak and had very little energy for several months. My poor health began in early 1941.
I was born Richard Alvin Vaughn in Roanoke, Virginia on September 10, 1939. When I was two years old I had measles that settled in my ears. There was a fever that made me very sick. Mother told me I had three kinds of measles in nine months time. There was infantile measles, German measles (Rubella) and Red measles. Perhaps those illnesses lowered my resistance and began a spiral that led to more sickness in the years ahead.
In May of 1942 I had a hernia on my right side near my hip joint. It ruptured and I had to wear a truss. The rupture became worse and surgery was needed. There was such a long stay in the hospital that I had to learn to walk again.
My tonsils were removed later that year. There was some bleeding the first night after returning home and there were splotches of blood on my face the next morning. My parents thought that my throat had been bleeding. They took me to the doctor. He said rats had been biting me and had bitten through my lip. The rats had smelled the blood from the surgery. Mother's story did not say what was done to eliminate the rats. I do remember that big rat traps were set to catch rats while we lived in that house.
In early 1945, at five years of age, I had chicken pox and mumps, both within a few months time. Because of my previous illnesses and my hernia, I was already rather skinny and not very healthy. After partially recovering from the chickenpox and mumps I started losing weight and by mid-summer I was skin and bones. That was when all those symptoms began.
We saw a doctor but he had no diagnosis and he prescribed a tonic to help me regain my appetite. The tonic probably contained sugar and was most likely much the same as the old "snake oil" remedies that were not uncommon back then. The tonic was ineffective and we saw a second doctor. Still no diagnosis and it was the same with a third doctor. Mother and Daddy never gave up though and we saw a fourth doctor. He was the one who recognized my symptoms.
Despite my condition, my parents enrolled me in first grade at a nearby elementary school. There was a bathroom in one corner of the classroom. I spent much time there. Mrs Thompson, the teacher, became very annoyed with this despite the fact that Mother had explained my symptoms to her. Not long after school began that fall we were called and my parents were told that we should see the doctor the next day.
It is strange that I can remember where my family members stood in the doctor's office that day. Mother sat to my left and Daddy stood behind us with my two year old sister, Shirley, in his arms. It is easy to remember that day so clearly because there was a look on Mother's face that scared me when the doctor announced my "sugar diabetes". That expression on Mother's face is something I will never forget.
The doctor did not say a lot about my disease. He said that they should take me to the hospital and that there would be another doctor who would meet us there. We were told that doctor knew a lot about sugar diabetes and he would be my doctor in the years ahead. Mother was too frightened to say much. Daddy said nothing. Mother was always the one to ask questions in a situation like that, but this time, even she was almost speechless.
We met Dr. D. for the first time at the hospital. They gave me insulin and said that it would make me healthy again. The insulin was called beef and pork insulin because it was taken from cows and pigs. He told Mother and Daddy to never give me sugar, or any food containing a lot of sugar. Those were the only instructions Dr. D., the "diabetes expert", had for us. He was a far cry from an endocrinologist but we were told that he was the best doctor for diabetes patients in the Roanoke-Salem area at that time. Doctors knew so little about diabetes in the 1940s.
My stay in the hospital is all a blur, but the insulin did great things for me in a short time. My appetite was good and there was some weight gain. Insulin from pigs and cows saved my life and I regained much of my health. Insulin was discovered in 1921 and first sold in 1923. It was there for me only 22 years after it was first available.
So there we were with vials of insulin taken from animals, a glass syringe, and metal needles that were twisted onto the end of the syringe. The syringe and a needle were sterilized by boiling them on top of our stove every morning. Daddy gave one injection before breakfast each day. The insulin was a twenty four hour insulin.
We also tested my urine for sugar prior to my injection. A blue liquid called Benedict's solution was poured into a large test tube, and 8 drops of urine were added. Then the tube was placed upright into a metal container and the water in the container was boiled. When the tube was removed the solution would progress in the colors of blue (with no sugar present), green, yellow, orange, red, and brick red or brown (with very high sugar present). A color change would indicate the presence of sugar. My urine was checked only once each day.
The needle was very long. It may have been about three quarters of an inch in length. We were instructed to stick the needle directly into the muscle on my arms or the top of my upper legs. The diameter of the needles was greater than the ones used now. That was necessary so that a piece of wire could be inserted to unclog them. The injections were very painful. I remember them very clearly.
My 6'th birthday was on September 10 that year and my diagnosis was on September 15. There was so much sickness from the symptoms of my diabetes. It was not a very happy birthday.
At six years of age I was too young to understand what was taking place. Candy and other sugar treats were not allowed and I am sure that disappointed me. There was really no other change in my rather normal life, except for the morning injections. Insulin made me healthy again and life went on as usual. I was a hapy and carefree kid. None of us knew how serious diabetes could be at that time.
I had also been a happy child before my diabetes symptoms began. There were blackouts in 1942 during World War II. On certain nights people had to turn out all their lights, in case of an attack. My old postage stamp collection contains some of the ration stamps my parents used during the war. After the war ended and the Allies were victorious, I went out in the backyard and ran about yelling that the war was over. The war having ended meant nothing to a five year old boy, but my parents were excited and some of their enthusiasm must have rubbed off on me. There are many things from my preschool years that are easy to remember.
Daddy and me, 1939
Mother had her appendix removed in late 1942. She was hospitalized for ten days. While she was there she learned she was pregnant. She also developed asthma and stayed very sick and nauseated until my sister, Shirley Ann Vaughn, was born on June 24, 1943.
Shirley was my first playmate and, as she grew older, we had good times together. We loved each other very much. Mother and Daddy did not have many friends. There were no other children in our neighborhood, so Shirley and I developed a very close relationship.
Pictures made before my diabetes symptoms.
Mother wrote her own story when she was in her 80's and she only briefly mentioned my diabetes diagnosis. She did not say anything about the months leading up to the diagnosis, or the trauma in the months that followed. My parents were devastated by my diabetes and not knowing how to care for me. The memories were probably too painful for Mother, and she chose not to include the details of that part of her life in her story. It is impossible for me to remember all of what happened back then, but my parents told me all the details years later.
My picture in first grade, age 6
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CHAPTER 2....First Years After DiagnosisWe did not know any other diabetics for many years during my childhood. It seems now that might have been a disease that diabetics would hide and be ashamed to reveal. I was a "closet diabetic" and never told any of my classmates in school. My teachers knew nothing about diabetes when Mother spoke to them at the beginning of each school year. None of my relatives had Type 1 diabetes, so far as we know.
There was one of my father's second cousins who was reputed to have some of the symptoms of Type 1 diabetes. She lost weight rapidly and died when she had stopped eating. There was never a diagnosis of her condition. Her parents may not have taken her to a doctor. Some of my relatives believed in home cures and medicines and did not go to doctors. Many mountain folks were that way back then.
My relatives did not talk to me about my diabetes. They talked to my parents in private. I will never forget one visit to my grandparents house one summer about a year after my diagnosis. While playing with my cousins, the door to the living room was closed. The talking in that room grew much quieter. My curiosity got the best of me and I pressed my ear to the door and listened. My grandparents, uncles and aunts were asking about me. That was the first time we had seen any of them since my diagnosis. It was a reunion of Mother's family.
They asked Mother if I was going to die. Mother had a hard time answering that question. She told them she did not know and that the doctor did not seem to know much about how she should take care of me. She explained that she never gave me candy, cookies and other food that contained a lot of sugar.
I felt guilty about eaves-dropping and went back to my cousins. Listening to the conversation was not a good idea, and I was very quiet on the way home. The thought of dying caused me to worry, but I don't recall it bothering me for very long . Death is a difficult thing for a young child to understand. Talking to my parents about it would have been a good idea. I will always remember that visit, like it was yesterday.
We went to visit one of Mother's uncles, not long after the family reunion. It was early one evening and my aunt wanted to serve refreshments. She took me by the hand and led me to a room down the hall. It was kind of dark in there, but there was enough light for me to eat part of the big Stayman Winesap apple she handed me. I wasn't really hungry. It was easy to hear the rattling of dishes where the rest of them were having cake and lemonade.
Their eating cake did not bother me. My feelings were hurt because my aunt did not want me to be with them. I never liked her after that visit. My aunt took me back to the living room after they were finished, but I just wanted to go home. There never was much of an explanation for what had happened. My aunt must have thought it would be cruel to have me see them eating cake.
Throughout my early years as a diabetic I had no major health problems and things went rather smoothly. I was always very skinny, maybe slightly underweight, until many years later. The urine tests showed high sugar almost every morning. There were, however, some nights that I had very bad hypoglycemic reactions. My bedroom was adjacent to my parent's room and the door separating the rooms was always left open. Mother was keyed in to my thrashing about and the moans she heard during my hypos. She would jump out of bed and grab the glass of sugar water that was always handy. Daddy raised my body, and sat on the bed behind me, holding me while Mother slowly poured the sugar water into my mouth.
This usually worked very well, but there were times that my mouth was clinched so tightly that she could not get any of the liquid into my mouth. She would rub some of the liquid on my lips and I would lick my lips. This gave me just enough sugar and enabled me to relax. Then she could get me to swallow some of the sugar water. After coming out of those hypos I did not remember any part of what had happened. I was always so grateful that they took such good care of me at those times. There were many hypos until I was an adult, probably one per week on the average.
Mother had a very hard time with my diabetes, even though she was an excellent caretaker. She had terrible asthma during most of my preteen years. She smoked cigarettes that contained a kind of medicine. She would inhale the smoke and the medicinal vapor entered her lungs and helped her to breathe more freely. There was no tobacco involved. These cigarettes were prescribed by our doctor. Mother would have a terrible time with her asthma after each of my hypos. She was a very nervous person and took medicine for her nerves.
Mother also had large varicose veins. They were causing her many problems and she wore elastic stockings to give herself some relief. A doctor suggested that she have the varicose veins removed from her legs. The surgery was very successful. She stopped wearing the elastic stockings and her asthma improved. After a few months she never again had asthma problems. Now how do you explain that? I was still having hypos and they still made her nervous, but there was no more asthma. Is it possible that the surgery had some connection? It does not seem likely, but we were all very happy that her days of terrible asthma were over.
At the time of my diagnosis we knew nothing of artificial sweeteners. A few years later, a drug store was selling saccharin. It had been used as an artificial sweetener since 1907, but we did not know about it until the late 1940's. It was about that time that unsweetened Kool-Aid was introduced. It was invented in 1927, and it made the scene in Roanoke several years after my diagnosis. There were no artificially sweetened drinks until we had the combination of saccharin and Kool-Aid. The Kool-Aid was sold in little bottles in concentrated liquid form. Kool-Aid was fantastic!
Mother used the saccharin and started making me pies, cookies and other desserts. There was always one of her delicious desserts for me for dinner and supper. There was saccharin for cereal at breakfast and for lemonade in the summer. Things were definitely looking up!! There were so many carbs in the pies, cookies, and cereal, but we thought they were OK, since they did not contain sugar. I ate potatoes, corn, homemade bread and rolls, chicken and dumplings (my favorite dish of all time) and the overload of carbs caused me much high urine sugar. Oh how I wish we had known back then that lots of carbs were very bad for me.
There are many young diabetics who cheat and rebel after being diagnosed with diabetes. Being diagnosed at the tender age of 6, and respecting my parents, led to my never questioning their demands involving my diabetes care. Eating sugar or candy or other items containing sugar was forbidden, unless my blood sugar was very low. I followed that rule to the letter. Mother was so good to make me wonderful desserts sweetened with saccharin. Their desserts did not tempt me because those special desserts she made were so wonderful.
Some of my favorite pies were banana cream, cherry vanilla custard, baked custard, chocolate, rhubarb, peach, and raisin. The pies had homemade crusts that were very thick, and they were divided into five pieces for my dinners and suppers. Can you tell I liked pies? There was also applesauce cake for my birthday and again for Christmas. The cake contained lots of nuts, raisins, and applesauce, to make it stay moist. Can you imagine how many carbs were in those desserts?
A typical breakfast had two kinds of meat, usually sausage cakes or thick country ham slices or bacon, which I ate with my eggs. There were homemade biscuits with lots of butter and I would dunk them in my saccharin sweetened homemade apple butter. That and a big glass of milk from our own cows completed my meal. It is not surprising that I had terribly high blood sugar....er....urine sugar, so much of the time. The breakfast was so large because both of my parents were raised on a farm and they and their families worked hard. They needed that food for energy when they set out to do their farming chores. My parents knew no other other way to live. We had three large meals every day and my daily carb intake was probably more than 500 grams.
When the peaches were ripe in our orchard I would climb up on the lower branches and reach up for a mellow, juicy peach. They were as big as a grown man's fist. After eating two peaches my tummy would hurt. With peach juice all over me I would go home to wash up. Daddy always sprayed our fruit, so all the fruit we ate was covered with dangerous chemicals. We did not know any better. It never hurt any of us so far as I know. We had plums, grapes, strawberries, raspberries, apples and pears. I ate too much fruit but it was so good!
Daddy put me in charge of the melon patch when I was older. Planting cantaloupes and watermelons each year, and watching them grow, was a lot of fun. They required sandy soil and lots of water. They were left on the vine until they were fully ripe. The taste is so much better that way than when they are picked green and ripened afterwards. The same is true with all fruit and tomatoes. We provided our own meat, vegetables and fruit on our little farm. That was necessary because there was too little money available to buy all that we needed.
My parents did the best they could for me during my childhood. Dr. D. gave no instructions that helped. My parents raised me in much the same way they were raised in their mountain homes. They did not drink or smoke or swear. They were good Christians and kept to themselves. They bought land outside the city limits so that they could have a farm. They were raised on farms and loved that kind of living. That had a lot to do with the way I grew up and the development of my shyness and my overall personality. Telling you about my parent's background will help explain my life as a child, and help set the tone for my life as a diabetic while still living at home.
My family, 1945
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CHAPTER 3....My Parent's HistoryMy Mother's parents were John Henry Cassell and Penceannah Jane Cassell. They were born of small time farmers who owned their land. Their tools were plows pulled by horses, shovels, rakes and hoes. They were good, honest, hard working people. They lived in Portsmouth, Ohio, where their first three children were born. Their names were Verna, Eva and Dorothy.
When Verna was 18 months old she was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. She bore her illness with patience. Even in the face of death she had a smile for her parents. Verna died in 1910 and was buried in the family cemetery in Virginia, near where my grandparents were born. None of the other children ever saw Verna because she died when she was so young. Grandaddy was a flagman on the railroad and they moved to Roanoke, Virginia, while he had that job. My Mother, Evelyn Elsie Cassell, was born in Roanoke in 1918.
The family moved from Roanoke to Vesta, Virginia, shortly after Mother's birth. Grandaddy gave up his job with the railroad and bought several acres in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Vesta. He became a carpenter. In the next few years Leonard, James and John were born. My grandparents were very happy because their first four children were girls and they wanted some boys.
Many people were having diphtheria in the time my Mother was very young. Dorothy was diagnosed with diphtheria. In my Mother's story she tells of the doctor using some kind of pump and trying to pump the swelling out of Dorothy's neck. The doctor was a chiropractor and did not know how to treat Dorothy. Doctors were scarce in the area where they lived. Finally a medical doctor came and gave Dorothy shots of antitoxin, but he could not save her. She died shortly thereafter.
The family lived on a small farm in a region that was heavily wooded. There was only a dirt road for their wagon when Mother was very young. The entire family worked hard on their farm. Mother and two of her brothers hoed a very large field of corn every summer. They had to watch for snakes. They saw rattle snakes and copper heads rather frequently. Picking wild black berries was dangerous. Birds would eat the berries and snakes would lie there waiting to catch the birds. Mother was very careful to watch for snakes while she picked the berries. They say snakes are as afraid of us as we are of them. No member of her family was ever bitten by a snake.
Grandaddy became a skilled carpenter and he built his family a new home. It was a fine two story house with large rooms. There was a small brook and a spring a few hundred feet behind the house. About two miles downstream, where the forest was very dense, there were two men who had a still. They made moonshine. Grandaddy sent some of his kids to the still to get some of the mash to feed their hogs. The hogs loved it and they got very fat.
Frequently the ducks would wander downstream and eat some of the corn mash. The ducks were so full that their tummies would almost drag the ground. They waddled back to the farm, but they were very drunk. If they came home late Mother would go after them. She made a pocket with the front of her dress and ran through the woods picking up baby ducks. The family enjoyed watching the ducks come home. They would fall over and have a hard time getting up again. They were heavy with mash and drunk too. The family laughed at the spectacle.
When any member of the family got sick my Grandmother would use home remedies to treat them. The nearest doctor was very difficult to reach and a wagon and horses was their only means of transportation. My Mother's youngest brother was much younger than she was. Mother was in charge of him when he was a baby. She loved him like he was her baby, even though she was in her early teens. They formed a very close bond.
The first school that Mother and her sister and brothers attended was in sight of their house. It was a two room building with one room for school and another was the cloakroom. The winters were severe. They had to go through the fields and climb two fences to get to that school. There were not many students and only one teacher taught all the grades. School funds were low and there was a time that the school year was cut to four months. A grade could not be completed in four months, so the kids were running behind schedule.
There was no electricity in their home or at school. In school water was carried from a neighbor's spring in a wooden bucket and all the kids drank from a common dipper. Heat was provided by a wood stove and there were outdoor toilets. Mother attended that school through the fifth grade. At home they did their homework at night using a coal-oil lamp for light.
In 1925 Grandaddy bought a Chevrolet touring car. It had side curtains and a trunk mounted on the back bumper. He replaced the curtains with glass and that made the car warmer. He did not have any driving lessons and there were no driving permits back then. They were so proud of that car.
The schools in the area were consolidated in 1931 and Mother attended a school five miles from her home in Meadows of Dan, Virginia. She was placed in a room that had been a garage for sixth and seventh grades. There was still no electricity. Someone had taken a truck with a long bed and constructed a body of sorts with three long benches for seats. That was a makeshift school bus. If the bus made a sudden stop the kids all piled up in the front. After seventh grade Mother moved into the main building. It had four rooms. She finished her schooling there.
Mother was very intelligent and made very good grades. There were four seniors when she graduated. She was the valedictorian that year. Years later she liked to tell people she was the valedictorian in her high school graduation class, and then she added that there were only four seniors that year. Mother had a great sense of humor and that was one of her favorite stories.
We heard very little about Daddy's history. There is no story like the one Mother wrote and he talked very little about his past. If we asked him questions, he gave very short answers. He was a man of very few words.
My Daddy, Luther Bunyan Vaughan, was born in 1910, in a somewhat more populated community near Stuart, VA. His Mother was Nannie Lurinda Vaughan and his Father was George Abraham Vaughan. Daddy had a brother, Moir, and three sisters Bertha, Velda and Viola. There was also another brother who died when he was very young. The family lived in a small house on a farm. The owner of the farm hired my Grandpa to tend to the livestock and the crops.
When Daddy started school he spelled his last name Vaughn, but it was supposed to be Vaughan. His parents could neither read nor write and all of his siblings were preschool age. No one corrected his mistake. He was in high school before one of his sisters noticed. A few years later he had his last name legally changed to Vaughn.
Grandpa was unhealthy, and since Daddy was the oldest child, he took over most of the chores. He worked very hard on the farm. Later on Grandpa broke a leg and then was bitten by a copperhead snake. Daddy had to miss many days in school because he was needed on the farm. They did not want to be tossed out of the home they were using. Daddy failed that year and had to repeat one grade. He missed many days at school and was not well educated, but he was allowed to graduate. There was an understanding about children who were needed at home and allowances were made to accommodate them.
My Father tried to save his youngest brother's life by taking him on a horse and buggy trip to Stuart. This happened on a very cold day during the winter. His brother was very young. They wrapped him in blankets and laid him in the wagon. He had whooping cough and was very ill. He died before they could reach Stuart.
After graduating, Daddy found a job on the mountain near Mother's home. They met at the local store where he was employed. He was eight years older than her, but they dated and he met her family. The family liked Daddy very much. They were married in July,1937. Mother was 19 and Daddy was 27. Mother was sick with tonsillitis on the day of the wedding. Grandmother did not attend the wedding. She thought Mother was too young, at nineteen, to get married. Mother asked her how old she was when she was married. Grandmother said "nineteen".
They had lived in their mountain homes far to the south of Roanoke, Virginia and life was very difficult there. They moved to Roanoke, hoping to find a better life. They settled in a very small cottage owned by Mother's uncle. The cottage was located in a nursery setting where there were hundreds of small shrubs and fruit trees for sale.
My Father took care of the nursery and sold the shrubs when people came to buy them. That was my Father's only employment at that time. I was born in that cottage on Sept. 10, 1939. A midwife saw to my birth there.
The Cottage In The Nursery
My parents answered the phone calls for the business and showed people the shrubs and fruit trees. Mother stated in her book for a particular day she sold four fruit trees for a dollar. That gives you an idea of how prices were back then. They got a 10% commission for all trees sold and they saved the money for Christmas.
A year or so after I was born the three of us moved to a rented house. It was a two story home with lots of big trees in the front yard. There was no plumbing in the house. There was a well and an old fashioned pump close to the back door. Water had to be carried from the pump to the house.
Daddy worked for awhile at the Roanoke City Mills. There was so much dust from the flour that he had to breath and he became asthmatic. He had to quit that job and he was unemployed. They were then drawing unemployment checks. He asked Mother if she was going to leave him. She told him no, and she would stay with him, even if they had to live in a hollow log. Stay with him she did, and they had a wonderful life and much happiness ahead of them.
Daddy & Mother, 1937
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Much of what is in the first three chapters comes from my Mother's book that she wrote about her life in the year 2000, when she was 82. My Mother was a wonderful story teller. She made it very interesting. It would be wonderful if her whole story could be told here. It is on loose leaf pages typed by Shirley, my sister. Shirley gave me a copy of the story. I could not have written parts of these first three chapters without it.
Now to continue with my story and the years after my diagnosis.
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CHAPTER 4....Our FarmBefore I was diabetic Daddy drove a milk truck and delivered milk to people's homes. The milk was in glass quart sized bottles and he had to carry several at a time while loading and unloading the truck. He developed hemorrhoids and had to quit that job. Then he was offered a job at the Roanoke Post Office. He began work there on June 24, 1943, the day Shirley was born. Mother was always a stay-at-home Mom and there was barely enough income to pay the rent on the house and put food on the table. The new job was a blessing. The salary was substantially larger than he had ever seen before. That was when they made a down payment on a ten acre property, not far from the house they had been renting. The land they bought cost them $700 per acre.
Grandaddy and my three uncles came and built us a four room house. He was a professional carpenter and he was training his sons to follow in his footsteps. The house went up very quickly. It had brick siding and no basement. There was just a crawlspace underneath and no insulation in the walls or attic. The only plumbing was one faucet in the kitchen. We had to walk about 100 feet from the back door to reach the outdoor toilet. That toilet was attached to the chicken house. Down the hill was a pig pen. Further along we had a pasture and there were two cows and a horse. We had a large orchard with many fruit trees and a 2.5 acre garden space. Yes folks, we had us a ten acre "farm". It was a lot of fun. I used to help stack hay. Shirley and I picked peas and beans and gathered fruit from the orchard. As we grew older we slopped the pigs and some days I milked the cows. A lot of good memories, but a hard life in so many ways.
A few years before we moved to our new location, we adopted a collie pup. She grew very fast. We named her Pal. Mother told me she would jump up and put her front paws on me and knock me down. Animals were never allowed in our house. My parents felt that was unclean. Pal had to survive the harsh winters outdoors. She could crawl under the house to escape the ice and snow, but it was very cold and she suffered. She became very mean as she grew older and she chased the paperboy on his bicycle and bit him. The paperboy's mother brought him to our house the next day and showed us the boys wounds. They asked us to get rid of Pal. We gave her to Grandaddy's neighbors near their mountain home. Several years later we heard Pal had been bitten on the nose by a copperhead snake and she died. Here is a picture of Pal and me before we had our farm.
Every year we tended our crops and we provided much of our own food. Mother canned hundreds of quarts of vegetables and fruit. There were canned beans, tomatoes, tomato juice, peaches, applesauce, and much more. There was much more canning and I cannot remember it all. We had grape vines and there was canned grapes and grape juice. We made apple butter too. There were also cans of meat from our hogs that were butchered in the fall. Every year, when the hogs were killed and butchered, I thought about the fact that the insulin that kept me alive came from hogs. That did not keep me from enjoying the sausage, bacon, ham and pork roasts we had throughout the year. We had an old fashioned churn and we churned the milk and made buttermilk, butter and cottage cheese.
Eating was great! My Mother was an excellent cook!!! I ate carbs by the hundreds every day but avoided "sugar" and never cheated. We followed the doctor's instructions, but there was no advice about carbs. I had high urine sugar almost all the time. My blood sugar was tested at my doctor's office every six months. There were no other blood tests, that I can recall, until my teen years.
Daddy built a small barn all by himself and there were stalls for our cows and our horse. The doors were left open so the livestock could use the shelter during bad weather and at night. Two calves were born each year and, after they were fattened, we took them to the stockyard and sold them. The extra cash was much needed. My Father hitched the horse to a plow and plowed the 2.5 acre garden space every spring. It was very hard work for one horse, so Daddy tried renting a second horse. The rental was more than we could afford. A man offered him a mule, cheap. We soon found out why it was a low cost deal.
The horse and mule were both hitched to the plow. The mule refused to pull that plow. The horse would move and the mule just stood there. Daddy had worked on farms all his life and he approached the mule and spoke in soft tones. He fed the mule some corn. He took a special comb used to groom livestock and combed the mule on his sides and back. Then the mule was very cooperative and the plowing was done in no time. HEEEE HAWWWW!
There was one time, years later, that we did rent a horse. I approached the horse and tried to pet him. The horse reached down and grabbed a chunk of my abdomen with his teeth. After waving my arms and screaming, the horse let go and ran away. That horse could have caused me serious injury. I was lucky to have only a few heavy teeth marks and not much bleeding. I would rather have injections any day!! Another time Daddy had the horse hitched for some very light plowing. The horse keeled over in the middle of the garden and died. Daddy dug a very large pit beside the horse and rolled the horse into the pit.
We never had a horse after that. Later on that year Daddy bought a used tractor. We had a mowing machine and a hay rake that we hooked to the tractor. I drove the tractor and Daddy controlled the machines while riding them behind me. We mowed the fields and made hay for the livestock. We raked the hay and stacked it, making it ready for feeding the cows during the winter.
Daddy milked the cows at daybreak and cleaned their stalls. Then he ate breakfast and went back out and hoed or plowed the garden. He watered and pruned trees and shrubs and did so many other things. He would then go home for dinner and sleep on the floor for an hour afterwards. After napping he reported to the post office, where he worked from 2 PM until 11PM, with a one hour break for supper. The lunch pail Mother packed for him was unbelievable. He ate some of what we had at home for our supper.
Daddy would get home late and try to be in bed by midnight. I have never known a man to work so hard. On some days he made time to pick up a load of shrubbery at my uncles nursery and plant them at people's houses. We told people that Daddy had three jobs. The farm, the post office and the nursery. Daddy had a lot of muscle and was never much overweight. None of us were ever much overweight, even though we ate food like there was no tomorrow. I was always skinny until many years later, when I started using modern day insulins. We worked hard and we all loved each other so much. Good food, hard work and lots of love. That is my recipe for a successful family and growing up well.
The house across the street from ours was huge. It was made from big, beautiful stones like the ones in the buildings on the Va. Tech campus nearby. The people living in that mansion probably hated seeing us building a little four room house directly across the street from them. We were very surprised when they came over to see us. They welcomed us and were good neighbors. Their son Carl became my very best friend during my early school years.
We spent much time together playing cowboys and riding our stick horses, climbing trees, building a make-shift tree house, and hunting black birds that would land in our corn field with our BB rifles. They bought a TV set when they were first available at the stores. No one else we knew had one. It was so wonderful to get to sit in his beautiful living room and watch the black and white TV. That was so special! We were good buddies until we went to high school and then we drifted apart.
Shirley was four years younger than me. Carl, Shirley and I were playing Tarzan one day on our back property, no houses in site. There were about three acres of tall corn there. I was Tarzan, Shirley was Jane and Carl was Cheeta, the chimp. The corn field was our jungle. Carl and I were 8 and Shirley was 4. Cheeta and I went forth to hunt wild animals for food and left Jane in the middle of the jungle. We stayed away too long and we heard Jane crying. We were in no hurry to rescue Jane, so we took our time. When we got back to her, she was bawling. We led her out of the jungle and took her home. On our way we picked dew berries and ate them. I picked wild flowers for Jane...er...Shirley, and by the time we got home, she was happy and laughing.
Shirley and I still kid each other about that day. We tease each other and we have such a great sense of humor. Mother was nuts, so silly. We got our sense of humor from her. I don't remember ever doing any other cruel thing to Shirley. We love each other very much.
My parents never smoked cigarettes or drank alcoholic beverages. They were my guiding light and I intended to follow in their footsteps. When I was 10 a classmate named Bobby came to our neighborhood. He was in my homeroom, but was two years older than me. He had failed two years and was held back when I was in the fifth grade. He had never ridden a horse and wanted to ride our old work horse. So Bobby, Carl and I climbed aboard and we rode through the pasture. Bobby offered us cigarettes. Carl and I had never smoked, but we did not want to be called chicken, so we smoked a couple.
After Bobby went home we decided we would continue smoking after school each day. Carl took a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his father's pickup truck and we headed to his back property, where no one would see us. We smoked our way through several packs in a few weeks time. Carl's Father eventually caught on. He was missing his packs of cigarettes and his Mother had probably smelled the tobacco odor on Carl's clothes. One night after dark, Carl and his parents came to visit. That was most unusual and I knew something was up. Carl would not look at me and he hung his head. The jig was up. My parents were shocked to hear what I had done, but they did not discipline me at all. It was not necessary. Disappointing my wonderful parents like that made me feel so ashamed. They trusted me to never do anything like that again, and I didn't.
The smoking gave me very high urine sugar and caused me to have very little appetite. Things improved a lot in the weeks that followed. Except for abandoning my sister in the corn field, smoking was the only bad thing I can remember doing while I was a child.
The picture below shows Shirley, Carl and me riding our horse Maude. Our four room house is in the background.
My parents never used inappropriate language. Shirley and I were not supposed to use the word "sex". A funny thing happened when we were preschool age and Daddy was gathering turnips from the garden. He pulled an extra large one out of the ground and said "Boy that is a golly whopper!". Mother yelled at him to never talk like that in front of the kids. She was so disappointed in him. I had never heard her scold him in that way. Mother's actions made the incident very easy to remember. I rarely use a curse word now, even in anger. Only my wife and kids have heard me use a few very mild ones. Shirley and I always avoided curse words when we lived at home. My parents were good examples to follow and we were good followers.
Richard, Shirley and Carl (Tarzan, Jane and Cheeta)
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CHAPTER 5....Elementary School And High SchoolMy grades were not very good during my first few years of elementary school. My diabetes must have had a lot to do with that. All of my high blood sugar, and my parents not knowing how to deal with it, made school very difficult for me. There were a lot of C grades, but I never failed a grade. Mother was a great tutor and she helped me every day.
My hypos at night, and while playing hard during the day, caused Mother great concern. She was afraid I would have a hypo while at school and she would not be there to help me. She approached the teacher at the beginning of each year. She explained my diabetes and why there should not be any exercise for me during school hours. She convinced Dr. D. to write an excuse before school started each fall. So there was never any participation for me during play periods or gym. Sitting and watching the other kids at play was not any fun, but Mother had convinced me that hypos were likely if I was too active. Mother would not have it any other way.
My classmates knew I was different and they ignored me, but they never made fun of me. Making friends was very difficult for me because of my being so shy and withdrawn. Back then I blamed my diabetes for my not having friends, but in the years that followed, it became apparent that it was my shyness . My fear of having hypos while away from home made me appreciate Mother doing what she did. She always brought me out of my hypos at night, but there would be no one to do that for me at school. Sitting and watching the other kids play was OK. Knowing there would never be any hypos at school was very comforting. Having a hypo in school would have embarrassed me very much.
My grades began improving in the fourth grade. In the sixth and seventh grades there were several A 's and B's, not many C's. I was always the best in my class at spelling. When at home I was rather good at basketball. Daddy nailed a barrel hoop to the side of the corn crib and making baskets became easy for me. Mother watched over me when I exercised and did my farm chores.
Soon after starting eighth grade I had intestinal flu. I stayed at home several days and could not keep anything in my stomach. Under those circumstances my parents thought that they should not give me insulin. They were afraid my blood sugar would drop too low. They did not check this out with the doctor. After several days of no food, no water, no medicine, and no insulin, I could not lift my arms. I was barely able to move my head. The doctor came to our house and called an ambulance. My hospitalization lasted almost two weeks and my recovery enabled me to return to school.
Insulin users need to know that they need insulin even if they are not eating. They still need "basal" insulin under these conditions, but they do not need "bolus" insulin if they are not eating. The only insulin available during my school years was the beef and pork insulin. If my parents had known to give me some of that insulin during my illness I would probably have recovered without needing to be hospitalized.
The fear of having hypos while away from home was still present during my high school years, so there was no participation for me in gym classes. Participation during gym classes would have been very good for me in high school. I was mature enough to know how to take care of myself when my blood sugar was low. It would have been much better for me if I had rebelled and taken gym.
During tenth grade my home room teacher talked to my classmates and praised me for making good grades. She used me as an example and encouraged them to make good grades like I did. That made me want to slink under my desk. I did not like being used as an example for my classmates.
My grades were the best in my home rooms, but I was not more intelligent than my classmates. They were active in sports and making friends and dating. I was reading my books and ignoring them. It was not until my senior year that I made a couple of friends. They were both males. Talking to girls was always scary for me, but I wanted to very much. Shyness and a lack of self confidence was characteristic of my parents and sister too.
My parents saved much of their money, and when I was in the ninth grade, they hired a contractor to build us a big, beautiful brick home. The four-room shanty was torn down. We were so proud of our new home! We had a color TV too!
I graduated number 13 in high school in June, 1957. During the graduation there were several scholarships announced. The valedictorian and salutatorian received scholarships for their academic achievements. There were several others given, but they were all athletic scholarships. That did not seem right to me. It made athletics seem more important than academics.
My senior year high school math teacher insisted that I go to college. She was my math teacher in my sophomore and senior years. My parents told me I could not do that. They thought I would not be successful because of my diabetes. They had no idea what college was all about, but they must have thought it would be very difficult, and too demanding for me. None of my relatives had ever gone to college. Many of them had good jobs and good salaries and they lived in fine homes.
My parents did not understand my being so obsessed with going to college. They did not understand that I was deeply hurt by their telling me that my diabetes would make college impossible for me. My goal was to show them and the world that college was not only possible, but that I could be a good student there! I had a good mind and I wanted to use it in a meaningful way. They begged me to apply for a job at the post office and become a post office clerk. Daddy worked there and he could keep an eye on me.
My choices were standing at a counter and selling stamps and weighing packages, or going to college. The only coed college available was Roanoke College, about 20 minutes from home. If there had not been a college nearby I would never have had a higher level of education.
My parents were disappointed in me and Mother cried. They were so dead set against my doing this that they refused to pay for any part of my tuition or my college expenses. They were kind though and agreed to give me free room and board. Daddy let me drive his older Chevy instead of trading it in when he bought a new car. He kept the car in good shape and paid for the gas. I had no money of my own, so a job with wages was very necessary. My uncle George worked at a local supermarket and he got me a job there. Work began the very month I graduated from high school. Working there 30 hours per week at 75 cents per hour enabled me to save enough money to pay for half of my tuition that fall. The other half of my tuition could be paid during the spring semester.
That summer was very rough. There was so much physical activity at the supermarket. Bagging groceries and stocking shelves made me very tired. My blood sugar ran low much of the time. Carrying the bags to the customer's cars was a regular activity for all of us "bag boys". Sometimes the customers wanted to carry their own groceries and I explained that the manager watched us bag boys. He would be disappointed if we did not do as he wished. There were signs on every grocery cart saying there was no tipping allowed. Many customers offered me tips, but I never took one.
It was as though the manager's eyes were on me and I certainly did not want to be fired for accepting tips. Actually, he was a very nice man and he would not have fired me, but that was not the way I felt about it back then. That extra walking and lifting was very difficult. Whenever there were few customers checking out we bag boys stocked shelves and changed prices on various items, as needed. A 30 minute break was allowed for each meal during my work hours. Testing my urine during my breaks was very important.
One very busy day my blood sugar was very low and I passed out and fell on the floor. My uncle George was there at the time and he knew what was wrong with me. After recovering, George told me that I ate the candy he had given me. That hypoglycemic episode wiped me out and I drove home after a long rest. George was sorry for me because he knew that my parents were not paying for my college expenses and my job was very important to me . He got me the job and watched over me like a parent. I will always be very grateful to him for everything he did for me.
As September approached I wondered if going to college was really a good idea. Working at the post office did not seem to be so bad after all. Common sense would always kick in and enable me to realize I had the brains for college and that was the right place for me. It was my goal to show all my doubters that I could be a good college student and my diabetes would not stand in my way.
My High School Senior Picture
I love country music
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