"Grandma's Close Call"

Written by Linda Weltner
Published in Diabetes Forecast April 2007

AS THE GRANDMOTHER of a 7-year-old who had just been diagnosed with type I diabetes, I quickly learned how much I didn't know. One particular experience taught me just how much.

I made plans to take Danny and his 10-year-old sister, Jessie, to the Museum of Science in Boston. We'd see a one-hour IMAX movie, Danny would do his own blood sugar testing, I would give him his shot. Then we'd come home.
It would take only four hours. Surely I could manage this.

We were within sight of the museum when a thick cloud of smoke rose up from under the hood of my 1984 station wagon. The kids panicked.

''The car's on fire!" Jessie shouted. I quickly pulled over into a nearby hospital parking lot and herded the kids and my dog, Pandora, out of the car. Forget the museum. I needed to figure out how to get us home. None of our friends were home, and I couldn't take a dog on the subway, so I called AAA and prayed.

Jessie, Danny, and I waited, sitting on a curb in the parking lot. When the tow truck arrived, the driver explained to me that it was against the law to tow a car with a dog in it. I noticed that Danny, who'd been waiting patiently until then, was crying.

"Don't be sad," I said to Danny. "We'll come back another time." Tears trickled down his cheeks.

"Nana," Jessie said hesitantly, "I think he's low."
It was only 11:30 a.m., not yet time to check, but check I did: Danny's blood sugar level was 43. He hadn't been quiet all this time out of patience. He'd been disoriented, passive, overwhelmed by his body's reaction. I reached for the glucagon shot, but couldn't remember how to assemble it.


"Don't give him glucagon yet, Nana," Jessie said. "Here. Try this tube of frosting." I was shaking by the time I got back to the truck driver.

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"My grandson's blood sugar is too low," I explained. "He's just been diagnosed with diabetes, and I don't know what I'm doing." The guy glanced at the kids. Jessie's arm was around Danny's shoulder.

"Will the dog stay on the floor of my cab?" he asked.

''Thank you," I whispered. "Come on, kids. We're going."

Back home, I threw myself into bed and cried. I wasn't trustworthy. I hadn't been attentive enough. I couldn't recognize a low when I saw one. I felt unreliable and ashamed. Every time I recalled the scene, I shrank inside.

Eventually, I took a deep breath and got out of bed. My daughter and my grandchildren needed me. There was no room for self-indulgence or cowardice. I'd learn what I needed to know. I'd do better next time.

And I did. Danny and I soon made it back to the Museum of Science, where we happily spent an entire day without a moment's concern.

Linda Weltner's story is based on a chapter from a book she wrote with her daughter called The Challenge Of Childhood Diabetes: Family Strategies For Raising A Healthy Child. Weltner lives in Marblehead, Mass.