Portrait of an Insulin Reaction

Most people who know me, do not know I slept in the same bed with my mother until I was Eighteen. It definitely wasn't something I'd broadcast. It was my families' way of bestowing the responsibility of taking care of my Mother on me, but isn't the parent supposed to take care of the child?

My Mother was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when she was Nineteen. She found out when she ran into a telephone pole one day, claiming that she saw two of them. She has let diabetes ruin her life. I understand it is a difficult disease to live with, but she uses it as a crutch so she wouldn't have to work. Thousands of people in the United States have Type 1 diabetes, and live fairly normal lives because they take care of themselves. My Mother doesn't. She doesn't eat a well balanced diet, doesn't exercise, or do anything besides change her insulin pump when recommended. It's me and my family that has to pick up the slack, and make her live.

Type 1 diabetes is basically where the pancreas no longer makes insulin, therefore the person needs to regularly intake insulin through a needle or through a regulated insulin pump. An insulin reaction is where the blood sugar levels drop to extreme levels because the body has either received too much insulin or hasn't had any food. I was maybe Nine when began to understand her diabetes. I came home a few minutes late from a friends house, my grandparents are gone, and she was making supper. I remember her so vividly. She literally screamed at me till she coughed for being late, her eyes were bulging, her mannerisms were exaggerated, speech was slurred and intelligible, and she was sweating profusely. I was sent to my room, really confused and hurt.

After that incident, it seemed like it happened more and more often. At least twice month, but usually more. Typically, I'd hear her screaming and wailing either downstairs or right beside me. I'd get up, get the corn syrup, pour a bit down her throat, and wait for her to come out of it. Other times, she was more violent because the blood sugar levels were so low. She would act psychotic, she would kick, hit, throw stuff, rip out her hair, bite, knock her head against the wall, and scream. I remember the first time she bit my grandmother, and didn't want to let go. My grandmother knocked the hell out of her forcing her to let go. She has also thrown remote controls at my head and scratched me several times. It was when she grabbed my wrist and twisted it around, that I began to hit back.

The older I got, the more experienced I became in noticing the early signs, but also more emotionally detached to the woman. We'd be hanging out at the mom and pop shop video store, and she'd start spacing out. Her speech would begin to slur or not make any kind of normal sense, and she'd begin to sweat. Some of the more terrifying times were when she was driving me some place and would fall into one. She's wrecked more times than I can count. She'll begin to scream at me, and then will floor the speed pedal. I've never gotten into a car with her since.

The worse time ever was when she was just getting up on a weekend very late. I was already up. She was screaming a little and not really thrashing around too much. She was in the process of shutting her body down and going into a coma and then death. Her body began convulsing, and later her eyes began to roll back into her head. That was probably one of the scariest things I have ever witnessed. She eventually did go into a coma, and the doctor's told us that they weren't sure she was going to make it.

I wish I could say that I'm not use to hearing screaming, being kicked, hearing an ambulance, or hearing that my mother won't make it through the night. The woman has nine lives that she doesn't really want. Several web sites I looked up for insulin reaction symptoms listed the usual sweating and confusion, but only two listed a severe bizarre behavior. That bizarre behavior isn't really defined at all. People are not aware that this includes a loved one banging their head against the wall and screaming. I felt a need to define. I lost a lot of sleep growing up due to that psychotic behavior, a good bit of my childhood, and respect for my mother.

Photo by: Me.