| A Narrative of my Experiences with Diabetes |
In March of 1957, I was a normal 9-year-old girl doing what most other young girls in my neighborhood in Easley, South Carolina were doing: attending Northside Elementary School in Mrs. Hall's third grade and just playing with other kids in the neighborhood or with kids from school. One day something happened that changed the rest of my life and I was never "normal" again. That particular day in March must have started out being a rather nice day. I recall being outside when Mom called me to come inside to get cleaned up because she was taking me to see our family doctor. I really didn't see the necessity of going, especially after she explained that she was concerned because I was drinking a lot of water and going to the bathroom a lot. After all, I was an active girl so being thirsty and drinking water to quench my thirst should not be cause for alarm. Amidst my protests, away we went to the doctor's office. Our family physician, Dr. Jameson, was out that day so we had to see his partner, Dr. White. During the visit, Dr. White had a lengthy conversation with my mom. "Sybil is a diabetic," he said. He instructed us to go home, have a light lunch, then report to a pediatric group in Greenville. After seeing the pediatrician, I would be admitted to Greenville General Hospital for treatment. At that time, Easley did not have a hospital. Mom was rather distraught; she didn't know anything about diabetes nor did she know anyone who had it. Dad picked us up because my mom did not drive; after lunch we reported to the Christi Pediatric Group in Greenville where we saw Dr. Mills. He told Mom I would be admitted to the hospital for six weeks and then would have to take shots every day for the rest of my life. This didn't phase me too much, but Mom cried and I was embarrassed. My brother and sister were married with families of their own, but Mom called to give them the news, and after I was admitted, the whole "gang" was present in my room. I think the nurses and doctors were a little upset with them because there were so many people there. Then much later, Mom and Dad were the last to leave. I was there alone in a strange place with these strange people and I cried myself to sleep. Over the next few weeks, I became very familiar with all the hospital staff on the pediatric floor. Most of them were extremely nice and did everything they could to make a child's stay there as pleasant as possible. I was especially drawn to the daytime head nurse, but I can't remember her name. There was a big play room with all sorts of craft materials, toys, and a piano. A lady came twice a day to supervise group activities. The janitor was a jolly man who was very good on the piano so he entertained us on occasion with his piano-playing. I was encouraged to wear street clothes because I was not sick and definitely was not confined to bed. I was even allowed to help the nurses put forms together to make up patient charts. Mom came every day and was allowed to take me outside for walks so I could get some exercise. A nurse took Mom and me to a classroom every day and taught us from a big gray book, "The Diabetes Manual," written by Dr. Elliot P. Joslin, a pioneer in juvenile diabetes care. We had to learn how to give me injections and how to test my urine for sugar. The syringes were glass and were not disposable; neither were the needles; they had to be boiled for sanitation. There was no such thing as home blood testing; that was done only at hospitals or labs. To perform a urine test, you had to catch the urine, then put 10 drops of urine and 4 drops of water into a test tube, then drop in a Clinitest tablet (we didn't even have test strips). The mixture would boil and the tube became very hot so you had to make sure you held it above the liquid level. After it boiled, it turned colors and you had to match the color to a chart on the Clinitest bottle. The testing was highly inaccurate since the amount of sugar in your urine did not represent the amount of glucose in your blood, however it was better than nothing. I entered the hospital in March and I was hoping to be home by Easter but it didn't happen. The Easter bunny visited all of us kids and gave us baskets but I was sad because this was my first experience at being singled out as different from most or all of the other children. The others had candy in their baskets but I had only toys in mine; I didn't really want the candy that badly but I did not want to be different. That is a terrible experience for a child. So I cried again and after that, I became very homesick. It seemed that I would never get to go home again. Finally the day came when I was discharged from the hospital. Mom treated me like I was something fragile; she felt she had to watch me all the time and protect me from all the normal things in the whole world. I had missed several weeks of school, but I was able to make up the work I missed. Mom visited with my teacher and asked that no deserts nor anything sweet be put on my lunch plate. I was again embarrassed and cried some more. The other kids thought I cried because I wanted the sweets but that wasn't the case; it was because I was embarrassed and felt all alone with my disease. Today there is much more support for children through the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation International and other groups. |
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| The Diagnosis and My First Few Weeks With Diabetes Mellitus |