The Lazarus Syndrome

****Part Two****

NOTE: My ex decided that she "couldn't spend the rest of her life living with a cripple," but I've left this page in the Public Domain in case someone else with a Diabetic Partner can learn something. WebMasterBruce

It's hard to describe how your mind takes over your actions in a crisis… it's almost like watching another person doing your job. My wife spent the night working on a difficult costume project and didn't come to bed until 3:30 AM, so when I got up at sunrise to start my daily routine, I let her sleep in. Just one more mistake in the Journey of Life….

I kill a couple of cups of coffee while processing the morning's email, then shower, dress, and head out to the Post Office. Stop at the grocery store and Wal-Mart, and head home. Odd sort of morning, filled with delays: The fat lady at the Post Office with twelve unaddressed packages in line ahead of me. The man with the full shopping cart ahead of me in the Express Checkout Line. The accident on Ridge Road which forced me to detour 2 miles to get home. In retrospect, it's almost like someone or something is trying to keep me from getting home on time, but I write it off as just another Monday morning.

The cats greet me as always when I pull in the yard. I fill my arms with packages and shopping bags and use my elbow to open the door. I step into the kitchen, and promptly trip and fall over my wife's naked, bruised body sprawled across the tile floor.

9:47 AM

As I pick myself up off the floor, I see chairs overturned, the CD rack spilled over- it looks like there has been a bar room brawl in my home. INTRUDER IN THE HOUSE!!!!!! My stomach turns to lead and auto-pilot takes over. I grab my trusty 45 from it's stash spot, and start my Search and Destroy mission.

9:48 AM

Main Computer Room - CLEAR
Laundry and Garage - CLEAR
Sewing Room, Cutting Room - both CLEAR
Living Room - CLEAR
Secondary Computer Room - CLEAR
Master Bath and Bedroom - both CLEAR

9:49 AM

Something's very wrong. I'm momentarily confused, and my eyes are drawn to the bed sheets. I reach out and discover that the bedding is thoroughly, completely saturated. The realization of my mistake hits me like an electric current and the event crystallizes before my eyes: There hasn't been anyone in the house at all- my wife awoke in the throes of severe Hypoglycemic Shock and stumbled thru the house trying to find me for help, staggering and crashing into the furniture along the way.

9:50 AM

I race thru the house back to the kitchen. The cats can sense something is wrong, too, and 4 of them are sitting in a semi-circle around her head. I roll her over and start my examination: Her skin is cold to the touch and a bluish tint is setting in. She's not breathing, and I can just barely find a feeble pulse. PLEASE, GOD- DON'T LET THIS BE THE ONE!!!!!!!

9:51 AM

I grab the emergency Glucagon kit I now keep in the fridge, and the good ol' honey jar off the shelf. Break the seal on the powdered Glucagon vial. Break the seal on the old fashion glass syringe. Inject the pre-measured saline into the vial. Shake vigorously to ensure the powder is completely in suspension. All I need now is to drop this glass syringe on the tile floor and break it…. WHY CAN'T SOMEBODY FIGURE OUT A WAY TO MAKE THIS READY-TO-INJECT, DAMMIT?????? Aspirate the suspension solution back into the glass syringe. Administer the injection into the fatty tissue of the abdomen. Smear a light coating of honey over and under her tongue and along the tissues inside her cheeks. Initiate Mouth-to-Mouth. Auto-pilot all they way…

9:52 AM

The Shakes set in, and that lead ball in my stomach starts to quiver. From the dusty corners of my abused gray matter, a little voice speaks up: "Can't lose it now, Shipmate, your wife needs you, remember?" I choke back the bile, and try to focus on keeping the Mouth-to-Mouth going by the Book.

9:56 AM

My wife's eyes begin to flutter and she emits a tiny, barley audible moan- the Glucagon is finally kicking in. Despite the air conditioning, sweat drips down my forehead into my eyes. I stop resuscitation and begin another exam: she's taking shallow breaths on her own, and her pulse is a bit stronger now. The bluish tinge has left her skin, and I can feel the stress start to bleed away- despite the delays of my morning trip, I got to her in time again. The bruises and scrapes on her knees, thigh, and hip aren't too bad, but I know Valerie will be royally pissed when she sees the big, nasty, purple bruise on her right cheekbone. She's still as cold as ice, so I leave her for a moment to get a blanket and some juice boxes to go with the honey. I know that the Glucagon is only an emergency measure to force any remaining glucose reserves in her body into her blood stream, and it won't support her systemic functions for long. I cover her with the blanket and cradle her head in my lap to wait out the remainder of the episode.

10:07 AM

My wife's eyes are open but still totally unfocused. Drop by drop, I get her to swallow more honey and juice. She starts to choke once, which reminds me to keep her head up to prevent the fluids from finding their way into her lungs- there still isn't enough glucose in her bloodstream to allow her swallowing muscles to work properly on their own. The Shakes wash over me once again, but pass quickly enough… I know the worst is over and it's going to be OK.

10:15 AM

My wife starts to struggle, but I hold her tight and tell her it's all OK now. Her brain can't process what I'm telling her yet, but her subconscious seems to understand and she relaxes in my arms. Little by little, she swallows the sips of juice I give her, and little by little, her icy cold body starts to warm again.

10:21 AM

As the glucose level in her bloodstream continues to rise, my wife's higher brain functions start to check in again.

"Florida?" she asks.

"Yes, Baby, we're in Florida."

"Home?"

"Yes, Baby, you're safe at home."

"Insulin?"

"Right again, honey, but it's over now. I got here in time and you're fine now."

"Juice."

I insert the little straw in one of the juice boxes I keep stashed everywhere in the house, and put it to her lips. She drains the entire box in one long swallow and closes her eyes again.

10:34 AM

My wife drifts into a light sleep again, so I gently extract myself and walk back to the bedroom. I change the bedding with fresh linens. I return to my wife and check her blood glucose levels again, and decide she's really made thru another one. I scoop her up in my arms, carry her back to bed, and tuck her in. It may be Florida, but I still plug in the electric blanket to help warm her up… these events always leave her feeling frozen for hours. She wakes up and tries to struggle out of bed, mumbling something about having to finish her Rush Job. Since she has all the strength of a newborn kitten, I simply tuck the blankets in around her and she quickly drifts off again.

10:38 AM

I shut down the phone system, grab a Clancy novel, and settle in beside my wife as she sleeps. Periodically I check her blood glucose levels, and once, I wake her up to drink another juice box. She gulps it down and immediately sleeps again, and I know she won't even remember it.

2:00 PM

Time to face the music. Our customer runs some sort of entertainment service, and is coordinating some type of "Oscar Night" dinner. My wife was up all night making 4 Golden Goddess outfits for models at the event, and they were supposed to ship today via Express. Oh Well…. I call the owner and try to explain why she won't get her costumes. I get blasted by language that even made my old Deep Sea Diver self blush! I'm not in the mood to argue about it, so I quietly hang up the phone, refund her credit card, and fax her a refund statement along with a copy of The Lazarus Syndrome, Part 1.

2:11 PM

After reading my fax, our customer faxes me back a 2 page apology for her reaction and language, and promises to keep us in mind for her next costume event. Can't ask for more than that, eh?

5:00 PM

I fix a light meal and gently wake my wife up from her recuperative slumber. After a hot shower, she feels like a real human again! We have dinner and make small talk, both knowing how close we came, but neither really discussing it. When we committed our lives to each other, we knew there would be days like this, and so there are. We're still buried in Halloween orders and my wife wants to sew for a couple more hours this evening. I say Nuts to That, and lead her back to the bedroom. I tuck her into the blankets, and before I can find where I left off in my book, she's sound asleep once again.

Folks periodically ask me "Why the honey?" Easy! Honey is one of the few food sources that contain glucose in a form that doesn't need to be digested and metabolized before it can be used by the body's cells. Glucose from the honey is absorbed directly into the bloodstream thru the tissues in the mouth without needing to be swallowed. Which, as you've no doubt gathered by now, is a great thing for someone suffering from Hypoglycemic Shock as they can't swallow at all. No glucose, no cellular activity, no life. I'm not exactly sure how I came up with this trick, but I've never seen it printed in any Diabetic literature before. Maybe by writing this series, my little Honey trick can help some other Diabetic (and their partner) in the future.

688,000 people in the USA have AIDS, and the US Government spends approx. $2,800 per person per year in basic research.

6,300,000 people in the USA have Diabetes, and the US Government spends approx. $28 per person per year in basic research....

Maybe someday this will change, and I won't have to play God anymore.


WebMaster Bruce

If you missed it, read The Lazarus Syndrome, Part 1!