Ever since Lance and I have lived in our neighbourhood, we have paid occasional visits to a Chinese Takeaway restaurant that is infamous for their traditional dishes made to order. They make a delectable chicken-and- vegetable-stirfry that we both love.
Lance, being the out and proud diabetic and media star, quickly introduced himself to the ladies who prepare the food.
Being the small world that it is, we discovered that these ladies, who are sisters, have a brother with Type 1 Diabetes.
Lance was mesmerised. He barraged them with questions.
“What sort of insulin does he take?”
“How many shots a day is he having?”
“Does he cheat and eat bad foods?”
“Can I visit him?”
These ladies were enchanted by such a little boy knowing so much about the condition, when he couldn’t even see over the countertop yet.
Over the years, we have bumped into each other. Lance would immediately ask, “How’s your brother doing?”
(The Brother was 30 when diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, with no family history of Type 1 or 2. He had reacted terribly to the news that he would be on insulin for the rest of his life, and went on huge weekend benders that consisted of lots of beer, plenty of fast food, and the occasional insulin shot, when he felt bad enough to have one.)
The Sisters’ would reply, “Oh, he’s not too good at the moment, Lance. He hasn’t been looking after himself very well.”
Lance would nod his head, and remain silent. After a moment, he would say, “Well, make sure you say a big hello from me to him! And tell him to have an apple instead of a pie!”
Not long after, I managed to escape to the shops, Lance-free for 5 minutes. Again, I met one of the sisters. Her forehead crinkled and her eyes watered up when she saw me. I immediately feared the worst.
“Brian has lost his eyesight. He’s completely blind now. He’s having his right foot amputated next week, and the Blue Nurses are caring for him everyday, now.”
There we stood, two women, clutching hands. I was aware of the rest of the world busily moving forward around us. I then thought of Brian, unable to see, unable to walk, moving backwards into a world of darkness and fear.
I squeezed her hands as tightly as I could, just in case I couldn’t deliver the heartbreak I felt with my voice. She tossed her head back, and blinked away her tears.
“Anyway, he still has us. We’ll never give up on him. We visit him everyday and read him the paper, and make sure he’s got all of his insulin and syringes.”
I remember going home and feeling nauseated by the news. This man was a total stranger, however, I was staggered by how deeply his horrific news had affected me.
Almost a year passed.
I had finished work late, Lance was ravenous, so we both decided to visit The Sisters’ at the Chinese Restaurant. Lance and his dog stood outside the restaurant, whilst I collected our meals.
As usual, they both greeted me with a big smile. The waved to Lance, and commented on how tall and healthy he looked.
I paid them, and as I was handed my change, I asked the same question that Lance had been asking for years.
“How’s your brother doing?”
Silence.
I froze. I knew that silence.
I flung my head around to check Lance wasn’t watching. He was busy urging Chino to perform his reportoire of tricks.
I looked into their eyes, searching for answers.
“I’m sorry, love. Brian passed away a day after New Years Day this year. He couldn’t handle being so dependent on everyone. He ended up in a wheelchair, and had toes on his other foot removed, and he was in terrible pain. He’s better off this way. He was so depressed and angry. You wouldn’t want your worst enemy to be in the state he was in.”
Tears streamed down my face. They urged me with their eyes not to break down.
“He’s in peace now, love. Now, don’t you worry about this happening to your little mate. He’s as safe as houses as long as he’s got you.”
The other sister, wiping away tears, staring straight ahead said, “The doctors’ all said that with the amount of insulin he gave himself that he would have gone very quickly and wouldn’t have suffered in the slightest.”
Suicide. Diabetes Related Suicide.
He was 41 years old.
Now you can walk, now you can see...
This post is dedicated to his memory, and to The Sisters’, who fought all the way to the bittersweet end alongside him.
idodiabetes said,
13 July, 2008 @ 4:47 am
Wow. A touching and deeply saddening story. Thank you for reflecting on it so eloquently for the rest of us…
Has Lance asked about him?
Kezza said,
15 July, 2008 @ 3:30 pm
Err – Such a thing has never really crossed my mind, but I’m sure it’s out there. How did you break the news to Lance? (have you yet?).
I guess I can see how this kind of depression would sink in – escpecially with your health in such a state.
I always look to insulin as my life-saver. I’ve never really given any consideration to the possibility that it could have the opposite effect.
Thanks for reporting on this to us Kate – I’m sure this kind of news must be deply upsetting to you.
Kate said,
15 July, 2008 @ 3:53 pm
Kez..
I haven’t broken the news to Lance yet…but I will have to, because he will dive on these women and barrage with questions if he sees them out in public..which is a high possibility.
I am going to have to tell him that he died in his sleep…or something non-traumatic..he would be just devastated for one if he knew that this man had lost his life due to an overdose of rapid acting insulin.
I’ll wait until after the “pump” saga goes down..it is causing some psychological distress at the moment. It’s funny, he is grieving the fact that he won’t be having needles anymore…He will be right as rain when he has his pump on and working, he won’t believe how much better he feels
xxxx Kate