VISITS THROUGH THE YEARS-INTRODUCTION TO DIABETES AND MARY IMMACULATE HOSPITAL.

I couldn't figure out why trying to blog about my life with Diabetes was so difficult.  I couldn't seem  to settle down to write.    I never found writing to be a chore.  I took the time one day just to examine it in my mind.  It seems, as I've said before, this little blond pig-tailed 5 year old is someone I've known and now looking at her, I can see the movie of her life.  I feel great compassion for her.

Mary Immaculate Hospital became a part of my life for the rest of my life while I lived in Bellerose, New York and even through my married years.  

From age 5 on,  my doctor admitted me to the hospital yearly  for 3 or 4 weeks.  I was told it was to regulate my insulin and check parameters of my health.

That first four week admittance to the hospital was memorable for the constant blood tests.  In the 1940's, there were no glucose meters and no disposable syringes for insulin.  There were only a few types of insulin as well. Urine tests were the only other way besides venous blood to test for 'sugar'.  At least 4 times per day, diabetic patients were asked to leave a urine sample.  This was achieved with urinating into a cup or bedpan depending on the circumstances.  The nurse would take this sample and go to the clinic room.  She would use a dropper to take 10 drops of water and 5 drops of urine and put it into a test tube.  Then she would place a "clinic test tablet' into that mixture and the urine and water would bubble up leaving the liquid blue, green, brown or orange.  Blue would indicate there was no glucose spilling from the bladder but orange would indicate a very high blood sugar.  It might even be 300 mg/dc.  When I was at home, Mom would remind me to leave her "a present".  She would randomly ask me to do that when I was in a crying mood, or tired, or anything else that seemed unusual.  See My Angel Mother in an earlier blog.

In the beginning blood tests were hourly in order to obtain blood sugar levels.  These were not 'finger pricks'.  These were venous, from the inside elbow area.  The nurses and interns were compassionate (you'll see that word often) and kind but I would try to hide under the bed every time..  I do remember that clearly.  The insulin shots were always in my arms and I don't remember worrying about them.  

My Mother came up to the hospital every, single day.  She took a bus to the bus terminal and changed to another bus to get off in front of Kings park and walk up the few blocks to Mary Immaculate.  Sometimes if she was a little early, she would sit in the park on a bench until visiting hours.  She did the same thing going home.  Thank goodness my brother was 13 or 14 and was able to be home or come from school himself.  

I don't remember actually coming home but I do remember how little the house and the rooms looked when I walked inside.  I'm sure many can relate to that.

Years later my mother told me she was so scared the first morning she had to give me  insulin.  I didn't know this until she told me. She tried not to cry the first time.   Mom had to boil up the glass syringes, and  boil the metal needle (25 gauge I think) and take them out of the pot with tongs and place them on a sterile surface.  My mother was very smart for someone who grew up in an orphanage.

"Your insulin is ready."

Mom gave me a pretty silver colored hot plate with pictures of a farm scene on it and told me to look at the sheep  while she did my insulin injection.  I did.  I didn't notice anything.  Years later she said,

"Putting a needle into your tiny little are was one of the most difficult things I ever did."

I only remember one time when I was 'in trouble' in those early years.  I sort of woke up on the dining room table and my mother and our neighbor and my brother were putting sugar into my mouth.  I was lying under the chandelier and  I was thrashing around.  Apparently I had had a serious insulin reaction in the night and was having seizures.  

That has never happened again in my life.     

My father was a New York City Fireman and worked many night shifts.  Mom was alone with me and my brother  when Dad worked nights.  She was nervous at night  but I was never aware of it. 

My doctor had an  office within walking distance from my house.  As I've said, he was just out of the US Army when he began his practice in Bellerose.  My mother suggested to him that he should have some comic books or childrens' magazines in his office.  He did from then on.  We didn't realize at the time I was his only child patient.

NEXT:    She heard the sound of rubber soles walking swiftly down the hallway and the bustle of the nurses' uniform skirts.They were wheeling something down the corridor and as they passed each room, they closed the door which had been left ajar.    She quietly got out of bed and went to the door.  Peeking out..........................