Mollie and I went to lunch yesterday at Chipolte. I find it to be loud and confusing and uncomfortable, but the food was inexpensive and good. The place was packed and the only available table was a tall practically at the cash register. I dislike those tables. There is no place to put your purse and my feet never reach the rest bar. So we were sitting there talking when I saw a young woman in running gear fall to the floor, and then quickly recover. I looked at Mollie and said "She just fainted." As this was happening the young woman started walking toward me and I noticed that the color was fading out of her face. I jumped up just in time to catch her. She fainted again briefly. But she wasn't recovering from the faints well. Someone got her a chair and we set her down. She was covered in sweat and was trembling. Someone from the kitchen came out with a bottle of alcohol and a gauze pad for her to sniff...not sure what that was about. The young man that was with her told me that they had just finished a run. I was thinking heat stroke or diabetes? So I asked the kitchen guy to get her a glass of water and asked her friend if she was diabetic. He said no but she was nodding her head, so I reached in her bag and found her test kit and a roll of glucose tablets. I tested her finger and was shocked. Her glucose level was down to 23. I pulled the credit card out of my pocket that I had put it in after paying for our food and told him to give it to the cashier and grab a bottle of apple juice out of the cooler behind her. Let me tell you, that kid moved fast. I had her drink the juice and was sitting with her to make sure she got back into a safe glucose level. As she downed the juice and then paramedics came into the restaurant. Someone must have called them. I showed them her meter and told them that she had just downed a bottle of apple juice. They took over from there, getting her blood pressure and pulse ox. One of them wanted to get an ECG strip, and I was thinking "WTF?". After 15 minutes had passed her glucose level was at 63. I was trying to kindly talk to her about ALWAYS letting the people you are exercising with know you are diabetic. The idiot paramedic with the ECG strip kept interrupting and convinced her to go in to get checked. What a waste. She's diabetic and she was exercising obviously without keeping a check on her glucose levels. Her meter showed that she was low and we took care of that. She pulled up her mother on her cell phone and handed it to me. Her mother was grateful and concerned. She told me the girl had only been diagnosed a few weeks ago, so that explained why she didn't know to tell people and why she was letting them take her to the hospital.
We left the restaurant after the ambulance took her to Pill Hill. As we were walking out Mollie said "What the hell Mom, are you carrying around a sign that says "I'm a diabetic and I faint"? Good question, but I just don't know why Mollie and I attracted her. I'm just glad that I was there. Twenty three is a very scary number. I hope the hospital at least had an educator come and talk with her and her mother.
2 comments:
Wow, how fortunate for her that you were there! Maybe you should start wearing a sign! Also, I think it was very brave for you to look in her bag for test strips. I would have been hesitant, but probably would have reconsidered with so with someone so young. Awesome save!!
Once, my husband threw out his back at work and was momentarily paralyzed. A stranger called me on the phone and explained the situation. He told me he had called 911 and the ambulance would likely take him to a particular hospital. I was so thankful for his kindness and wished I had asked for his name. It was impossible to try to find him again but I've always thought about how helpful he was. Since I couldn't properly thank him, I'll thank you for reaching out to a stranger in her time of need! Thank you!!!
She, my grandmother was a type 1 back in the day when it wasn't easy to survive it. She lost both her sight and hearing due to it. One of my dorm mates in college was a type one and the dorm head, my room mate was glad I was there to handle it. The one year I taught kindergarten there were two type 1's in the house. I got both of them in my class. My oldest son's first girlfriend, one of my son's middle school teachers, a co-worker at a former job, two of my daughter's best friends and one of their little sisters, as well as one of my current co-workers and my daughter-in-law have all been type 1's. I am a type 2 (the fat and lazy type). I have been around this my entire life. I was more afraid of not testing her than of any repercussions of looking in her purse. There was a restaurant full of people who could testify that I didn't handle anything but her kit. Really, I was more afraid of her low than I was of anything else. I could have tested her with my kit, but that would have required extra steps to be sterile than I was willing to spend time with. Besides those strips are a dollar a strip and your endo gets mad at other results. Reaching in her purse, a hobo bag, was the last of my concerns. I don't know why my life seems to draw type 1's but it just seems too. At least I knew what to do. I am glad there was someone there for your husband. I gave my name to this girls mother, but it is so generic there is almost no way she could track me down in Atlanta.
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