by Debra Dangler
June 14, 2004:
Jennifer, my three-year-old daughter, is waiting in a public health clinic with me, her mom, in Phoenix, Arizona. We want to know why a rash on her bottom won't go away.
Jennifer and I have just moved down from Northern Arizona, where the weather is cool, to Phoenix, where it is very hot. We've been here for a few weeks, and I am very pleased with the large amount of water Jennifer is drinking. Jenny is very thirsty, I think she is dehydrated from the extreme heat. We bought a 32-oz. cup and lid to keep full of water; but no matter how many times she drinks all the water, she is still thirsty. Jenny is not retaining any water, and is going potty every half hour. She is very tired, and does not want to play. Jenny says her legs hurt and her belly hurts.
When the doctor finally sees us, the rash is examined and we are sent away with advice to use anti-fungal creme on the rash. I spoke to a pharmacist, who told me there were no studies of use of anti-fungal preparations on a girl's bottom, so there may or may not be adverse reactions and to be cautious of "internal application." Red flags went up, I called my sister, and she agreed I had received suspicious advice. I needed a second opinion.
It's early evening now, and Jenny and I go to the emergency room for our second opinion. We are waiting patiently, but Jenny and I have eaten almost one of everything from the candy, chip, and soda machines. We've been here all night, and it is now morning, June 15, 2004. Jenny has been going potty every 15 minutes, all night long, and I am grateful I bought several pairs of clean changes for her.
The doctor finally calls us into an exam room. We talk about the rash, and the health clinic. The doctor asks if she has been using the restroom a lot? I said, "yes," and we are sent to the restroom for a 'catch' (urine sample). This did not take long, and the results came back quickly. Jenny has sugar and ketones in her urine. I try to ask what this means, but the doctor is hurriedly scampering about and says we need a blood sample. The lab workers are there in a flash, and the results almost immediate. Once again the doctor is swirling about, assistants are rushing in, and machinery is getting hooked up.
The doctor hands me a clipboard with a release form on it, and as he is still preoccupied with his rushing about, manages to get out the words, "Needs to be treated for diabetes."
Faster than I can understand what all this means, I am helping to hold her down for an IV. There was much screaming and crying, and I hoped the worst was over. Little did I know.
We were not going home, and Jennifer was scared stiff and crying. As I choked on fear, trying to appear calm and brave for my daughter, I knew something was horribly wrong. I had heard about diabetes, how it could be controlled by taking pills and not eating sugar. What I did not understand was why the ambulance was picking us up for a trip to the children's hospital.
When the ambulance arrived, the techs put Jenny into a car seat, and then belted it to a gurney. Jenny's eyes and arms were grasping for me as she cried out fearfully "Mommy!! Mommy?? I want to go home."
I wanted to take her into my arms and run away. I tried to console her; I held her as close as I could amidst all the belts, buckles, boards, and tubes. I was told I could only ride with her if there was enough room. I would have battled 1,000 armies to be by her side.
The ambulance tech took my hand, and helped me get into the ambulance. The ride was long, and the tech and I spoke as Jenny drifted off to sleep. I was reassured that we were going to a wonderful hospital specially designed for children. The tech took the time to help ease my fear, and I started to feel like we were on a healing journey, rather than on a trip to the dungeon.
We arrive at the children's hospital. We are greeted by smiling faces, and there is a bed ready for Jennifer. We are taken to her room and Jenny is made comfortable. She is given color books and Barbie dolls. Introductions are made, and there are explanations that more blood work needs to be done to verify whether or not diabetes is the culprit. I am told the IV vein is still in place well enough to get a blood draw straight from the IV, and no more poking will be necessary for the time being.
Shortly after, an endocrinologist visits us, and orders an insulin drip for Jenny's high blood sugar. An antibiotic drip is also ordered, because the rash on Jenny's bottom is a skin infection caused from all the sugar in her urine. The rash has eaten away at her skin, and is beginning to bleed.
We are advised that Jenny will be in the hospital for three days; did I need accommodations? I asked for a sleeping chair to be put next to Jenny's bed. I was made welcome.
We are awakened each morning for blood tests, to chart the sugars in Jennifer's blood. It's clear, Jenny has juvenile diabetes. For the three days we are there, we are schooled, trained, and educated about juvenile diabetes.
Now I understand how lucky we are to be able to treat and control diabetes. I have a profound thankfulness for the two gentlemen who discovered insulin, as it is through their discovery we are able to save the life of my precious girl and so many others afflicted with diabetes.
Until now I knew not the full seriousness of diabetes. Diabetes care has been complicated and all-consuming, emotionally and financially. I am eternally grateful for the many good people who head up the support crews that make 'reaching out' possible. To the volunteers who have spent endless hours 'reaching out,' I thank you all. It helps to know that we are not alone, even if leagues of vast space may separate us. Through papers such as "the Voice" and good people such as Mr. Bryant, we are laid down a 'bridge' over 'troubled waters.' This bridge is far stretching and I am thankful to be allowed to distribute a few rungs of this bridge into my neighborhood. Good wishes to all of you.
Debra and Jennifer