The Monster Unleashed

I suppose I shouldn't be embarrassed by what happened this morning, but I certainly can't help feeling  thoroughly ashamed at how rude I must have seemed. In front of a whole queue of people.

I knew I was hypoglycaemic before I even got off the bus. A test confirmed: 2.3 (41). A frantic rummage in my bag turned up my tube of glucose tablets.

With one tablet in it.

Damn.

How could I have forgotten to fill it up? I know I'm only human, and these things happen, but why did I have to be hypoglycaemic at a time when I had just four grams of carbs on me? It seemed like a cruel joke on the part of fate.

I was on my way to hospital for a non diabetes related appointment. Fortunately there is a branch of WHSmiths right inside the entrance to the hospital. I grabbed a bottle of Lucozade and, knowing I still had a lot of active insulin on board, (which was a remarkably coherent thought given that ten minutes including a five minute walk to the hospital had passed since the test and I was probably now even lower) a cereal bar.

I joined the queue.

I'm always told that queueing is a remarkably English thing to do. That doesn't mean we enjoy it, just that we do it without question. We even form queues when we don't really know what we are queueing for. But this queue had to be the slowest moving queue in England. In fact, it wasn't moving at all. It felt like five minutes passed, though it probably wasn't more than one or two.

If I had been in a logical frame of mind, a non hypoglycaemic frame of mind, then I'd probably just have opened the Lucozade there and then and drunk some. But if I wasn't hypoglycaemic it wouldn't have mattered. Instead, with all the stubborness of hypoglycaemia, my brain hung on to the hard-wired thought that we queue first, then pay, then eat and drink.

So instead, frustrated and impatient with sweat pouring off my brow and legs turning to jelly, I did something totally stupid: I marched to the front of the queue, slammed my potential purchases on the counter and declared loudly "I wish you could all get your act together" before storming out of the shop.

This was in a hospital. I'm sure they've seen worse. But only I knew I was hypoglycaemic. The queue of people gawping at my outburst didn't know. The bewildered cashier, who probably had no idea what she'd done wrong, didn't know.

They probably just thought I was rude and inconsiderate, and breaking the cardinal rule of being patient in a queue, waiting your turn.

And worst of all?

I had to swallow my pride two minutes later and return to the very same shop, the only one available, retrieve a bottle of Lucozade and go to the counter, thankfully now queue-less, to pay.

I placed my purchases on the counter, accompanied by a few drops of the sweat coursing from my face. With shaky hands I threw a five pound note at the cashier and grabbed the Lucozade back before she even had a chance to scan the barcode or think about my change.

But I couldn't get the damn bottle open. My hands were shaking too much.

The cashier looked at me. Wordlessly she took the bottle from me and opened it.

"Are you OK?" she asked. I shook my head, tears adding themselves to the sweat on my face.

"It's OK. Drink some more" she urged. "You're shaking really badly. Do you need a chair?"

I shook my head again, this time mumbling "I just need sugar"

"It's OK" she repeated "Don't worry, you just take your time"

I couldn't believe her kindness. Her rationality. Her total understanding. Perhaps she recognised my hypo. Perhaps has diabetes herself. Perhaps she has a relative with diabetes, or her best friend has it. I'll never know what made her just get it, but alongside being incredibly grateful that she did I can't help feeling all the more guilty and ashamed for my outburst of rudeness.

I'm cursing the monster inside me, and hypoglycamia for unleashing it.

Comments

[Sandra Miller]

This post had me in tears. Your almost futile struggle for control while in the grip of the "monster" really comes through here.

Thankfully, the cashier saw quite clearly that you needed help.

And Caro, needing help (which is exactly what your behavior signaled) is never something to feel guilty or ashamed of.

[Julia]

Did you read Kerri's post the other week, about the awful person at the movie theatre counter? I guess for every jackass like that woman, there's one like the one you ran into, willing to help, kind and solicitous.

This post made me cry, too.

[David Edelman]

Wow. Caro, I can only hope that through forums like these, people who don't understand diabetes can learn about what you and others with diabetes are going through. It's sad that in public the expected reaction is often so negative when there really are a lot of wonderful people out there. I'm glad the experience turned out the way it did. Thanks for sharing it so eloquently.

[Scott K. Johnson]

I agree - don't feel embarrassed or ashamed - things happen. Very nicely written post and one that brought us all right into your story.

I was so happy to see the attendant at the counter was so helpful. Especially after reading Kerri's post earlier.

Maybe the next time you are there you can do something nice for her (thank you card or something?). I bet that would feel very rewarding.

Glad you are Ok.

[Caro]

Thank you all for your kind comments. I didn't mean to make anyone cry!

The trouble is that in a rational frame of mind I don't have any trouble with the idea of asking for help when I need it. But at the times that I need help circumstances, such as being hypoglycaemic, usually mean that I forget this and don't.

I'm glad that there happened to be such a caring person there at that moment. I went back in later, but she was not there at that time, so I was unable to thank her today. I hope I get the opportunity in the future.

[type1emt]

Caro,
Glad you are ok- + there ARE kind people in this world. Hypoglycemia turns a person from Jekyll to Hyde..the nicest people do the weirdest/nastiest things.(been there, seen that, and done it myself)
She really does sound like someone who must know a D-most people fall to pieces under circumstances like that!

[Penny]

You made me cry too. I'm glad to know that there are still nice people in the world and I'm glad to know that everything turned out Ok for you.

[Kerri.]

Caro, I'm grateful to hear that you were treated with respect and compassion when your low was unleashed.

And as far as standing in line to pay before you drink the juice ... there's something about a low that can make us such protocol followers!

[Johnboy]

Caro, I know that monster. Glad you were able to tame it with help.

[Jen]

Caro,
That monster is brutal. I'm glad that you were treated kindly and with understanding. Some day (perhaps already?) you'll have a turn helping someone else who is not acting rationally. THAT will be your thanks. The person who helped you? She does not expect payment for her kindness. Of course it's important to try and thank her, there's only so much you can do. No shame or guilt.

I have monster has emerged while I'm dealing with my kids. Talk about guilt! Some day they'll understand. I hope. Then, maybe, they'll become that kind person in the gift shop.

Caro, I truly enjoy your writing an look forward to reading more of your posts in the future!

[Caro]

Along with it being good to know that there are decent people out there who are willing to help, it is always good to know that there are all of you out there.

The people who just understand about the monster!

Thanks everyone.