DIABETES: Some Unforgettable Experiences

Some one very rightly said ‘life can either be accepted or changed. If it is not accepted then it must be changed. If it cannot be changed then it must be accepted.’

I vividly remember the life changing day of 1st October 2003, two days after my birthday. And I can undoubtedly claim that I received the worst gift a nine year old could get. It would be worse than a nightmare.

‘You haven’t told him?’ the doctor asks my parents in total astonishment and disbelief. I look at them. Their faces are filled with guilt. What do I not know? I ask myself out of tension.

‘Raj.., you will have to take these injections for the rest of your life. Diabetes is an incurable disease. It is a lifelong problem.’ She says the disastrous words with such calm and composure that it takes me two to three minutes to comprehend what she has said. I look at my mother and father for the confirmation of the doctor’s statement hoping they will say that the doctor has gone nuts. Their heads are bowed down. They avoid making any eye contact with me. News confirmed. Tears are inevitable. My mother gets up to console me.

‘No, Mrs. S. Let him cry. It will make him stronger.’ The doctor says. And she follows. I weep at my destiny. One question torments me to death, why me?

Surprisingly, the doctor was right. It made me stronger. And yes, that was the first and the last time I ever cried because of my illness.

Four years later I get the opportunity to representmy school in an Interschool Tennis event. It is my third Inter School competition. It is June. And the sun is displaying its might. My match begins at 2 in the afternoon. My opponent looks confident but that doesn’t worry me. I am still a learner and I don’t expect to win that match. However, I have silently promised to myself to give it my best. My school has already lost the first singles event and if I lose this match it would mean pack-up.

My hands shake terribly during the warm up. My teammates’ eye balls are fixed on the court. The match begins and I understand the gravity of the word ‘disaster’. The first three games flow like wind. Iam totally frustrated and disappointed. I lose the next two games as well. But I am getting to know his style of play. I would try in the next set. The first set is gone in no time. But I am pretty confident that I will be able to push hima lot in the second set. I am the first one to serve in the second set. I throw the toss up and hit the serve. He returns to my forehand. I hit the forehand and bam!! Everything goes black for a second. The sensation is terrible! It was as if I lost consciousness for a second. My legs start trembling horribly and I know for sure that it is not because of nerves. I hit the serve and run to chasea drop shot. I slip and fall down. What is going on? My head feels heavy. My limbs are going weak. What the hell is wrong with me? I ask myself.

I take my time before starting the third point. It is a double fault. And suddenly, I feel exhausted. I put my head between my knees and take in deep breaths. ‘Raj.., are you alright?’ my coach asks mein a worried tone. ‘I don’t know.’ I begin the fourth point only to lose it. I look at my coach and signal that everything is okay. I go to the chair. I try to open the lid of my bottle but my hands are shaking so strongly that I can’t. And that makes me realize what is going on. My sugar levels are low. I start to panic. I can’t play if my sugar levels are low. What should I do? I get up and go to the chair umpire. I request for a medical time out of seven minutes (the maximum thata player can take as per the rules of the tournament) he asks for the reasonand I tell him the truth. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to retire?’ he asks ina concerned voice. ‘Yes sir, I am sure’ I reply in a firm voice. I have a strong belief that only cowards quit. I hope that seven minutes will be enough to get my levels back to normal. The second game begins. I am moving well. The gamegoes to deuce. At the deuce point, a similar black out happens. I am scared. My hands start shaking again. I go back to the chair and sip some juice. My opponent objects (one can’t take water between two consecutive games). I stand at the receiving end, only a few meters away from my coach. He hits the serve and I return pretty well. The point is the longest of the match and I win it after two minutes of hard hitting. But after winning the point I bend down to take breath. Unfortunately, my coach sees the extreme shaking ofmy limbs. ‘Oh my god! Raj.. you are in not in a position to play the match!’ ‘I am sir,’ I reply obstinately. In the second point my right leg slipsand I fall down. The worst part is that I can’t get enough strength to stand. All think I have fainted. But I get up after a minute. ‘That’s it Raj… I order you to quit the match.’ ‘But sir…’ ‘No but Raj… You are retiring and that is an order.’ I leave the courts with wet eyes. The fact that I couldn’t complete the match haunts me… I feel pathetic…. All I know is that I did the worst I could as a player. I quit. I betrayed my friends’ confidence. It is not the loss that petrifies; it is the cause that shatters my heart into infinitely small pieces…

That match taught me a lesson. Always keep an energy drink while playing a match. And try to avoid taking insulin just before the match begins. My school team, of which I have been a part for thepast four years, has since then won five Inter School and two Zonal events. Itrepresented Delhi at the national event held in Chennai. In 2007, I achievedthe feat of winning four rounds to qualify for the DSCL nationals. Yes, you guessed it right. It was the same year that disaster happened with me. The same year I was ranked 424 in the all India junior tennis rankings. Where there is a will, there is always a way.

‘Raat ke dhai baje koi shehnai baje…’ The lyrics of this song echo in my mind as I try to descend the staircase leading to the ground floor of my house. I have got an attack of hypoglycaemia at around 2 in the morning. I fumble a lot as trying to maintain my balance seems as tough as solving a trigonometry problem. You see, climbing down a stair case when your hands and feet are trembling like anything is not an easy job. Finally, after what seemed to be a never-ending struggle, I reach the ground floor.

My first reaction: – twist my neck almost 180 degrees 2-3 times to look for anything that can satisfy my stomach. Nothing found. Time for executing plan B, search the kitchen. I open the fridge and I am sure my eyes must havebeen wide with excitement as I see ‘n’ number of things neatly placed in it. It looks as if they are meant to be eaten by me.

Often, a diabetic patient is asked to describe the changes or the symptoms of an attack of hypoglycaemia and believe me, it is almost impossible to put in words. But let me try, Trembling of hands and legs, a sudden urge to eatas much as I can, heavy breathing and headaches are the few symptoms of hypoglycaemia, as far as my case is concerned. So where was I? Yeah, so I reach the kitchen and open the fridge. I am like an alcoholic who has just discovered the key to a room filled with a hundred bottles of wine or a drug addict left with kilos of cocaine. For me, at that point of time, the fridge is the paradise and the dishes there the ultimate ecstasy.

What should I eat? Butterscotch or vanilla? DrinkPepsi or Fanta? Eat my favourite cream biscuits or settle with a glass of juice? What puzzlement! Suddenly, I get a craving for fruit- cream but alas! It isn’t there. So I come up with a brilliant solution…

One bite from an apple and one spoon of vanilla, this is my concept of fruit-cream. The taste is way beyond what you call delicious. My eye lids close every time the cream melts in mouth. Sitting on the sofa at 2a.m., eating the best thing of this world, gazing at the fan, this is mymoment of ecstasy… but hey hang on a minute, I am not full yet, so I eat and eat and eat until my stomach is totally full.

In the morning, my mother’s face is filled with tension and concern as I tell the happenings of the last night. Time for blood sugar monitoring, report- 350, why am I not surprised?

Now, whenever I get an attack of hypoglycemia I eatonly three biscuits of glucose and take a glass of milk and repeat the dose if the situation doesn’t improve. End result, I was able to bring down my HbA1C report from 9.9 to 7.7

Now six years, eight months and four days after living with diabetes I can proudly say that I have been able to put this problem on the backburner and live a normal life (if not better). Diabetes has ina way taught me self-reliance. It has inculcated inner strength in me. I have lived my life on myterms. One day my best friend asked me, ‘don’t you sometimes wish you could delete 1st October, 2003 from your life?’ and I very coolly replied ‘I would trade anything to get the chance to do that.’ He gave me a surprised look. So I elaborated, ‘You know Gautam, I would do simply anything to getrid of those syringes and the pain that I have to live with but the fact is Ican’t. And that’s pretty much the end of story.’

Diabetes should not be an excuse for not stretching yourself to your best. I would not have lived my life any differently had I not been diagnosed with this disease and that’s what counts at the end of the day.