Thankful
By Pam Saylor
When early retirement unexpectedly became an option in 2016, my husband Dave and I dusted off our long-planned dream trip and made our plans to travel in Europe for a year, beginning in Italy.
Like giddy kids, we bought two one-way tickets to Rome.
Despite the excitement, I almost immediately felt overwhelmed. After all, I had been a Type 1 diabetic for only three years and still had a lot to learn. How would I buy insulin and would it be affordable? Would my prescriptions in English be accepted in European pharmacies? But excitement, anticipation and a bit of courage kept me going.
Pushing worries aside, in the fall of 2017 we left the U.S. hauling four suitcases and one beer cooler full of insulin. My carry-on suitcase was full of stockpiled insulin supplies. I had asked my endocrinologist a thousand questions and made lists of everything I thought I needed to know.
As we traveled things fell into place. I easily filled prescriptions in Rome and Croatia. Of course, there were some problems, like when the Croatian Customs office blocked my Omnipod insulin pumps from being delivered. I reluctantly went back to giving myself multiple daily insulin injections.
After Croatia, we landed in London and I was thrilled to receive a shipment of insulin pumps from my daughter so I could quit the daily injections. Early one morning I attached a Pod to my arm and we headed out for a day of exploring. I checked my blood sugar repeatedly and all day my numbers were perfect. After we returned to our apartment that afternoon I sat on the couch to watch TV and Dave went to the bedroom to read.
When I opened my eyes, the afternoon was gone and there was darkness outside the windows.
I must have been sleeping. Across the room, a pair of shoes was lying in the corner, but they looked wrong somehow—blurry and dim. I blinked. The shoes moved toward me and then away—then closer again before receding. The walls wobbled and looked like they were melting. My brain couldn’t think of the word “shoes.” My head swung to the right and my husband, pale and wide-eyed, was sitting next to me on the couch. His voice shook as he described finding me on the couch—unresponsive but still breathing. Taking a test strip from my purse, he tested my blood sugar. It was only 20.
He knew what to do. Every year we looked at the bright red plastic case holding the emergency glucagon kit after I bought a new one. When he found me unconscious on the couch, Dave knew the glucagon was the only thing that could save me. He filled the syringe and plunged the long needle into my thigh.
We were both silent as we took an Uber to the nearby hospital. I was cold and exhausted. Talking took too much effort. Thinking took too much effort. My arms and legs each weighed 100 pounds.
At the hospital, we eventually saw a doctor. He had questions. From my purse, I pulled out the Personal Diabetes Manager that operated my insulin pump and answered all of his questions. But my hands shook as I searched the PDM. I had questions too.
How did this happen? What did I do wrong?
The doctor meant well but he didn’t have any answers to give me. Like many doctors and nurses, he didn’t understand diabetes very well. We collected a prescription for another emergency glucagon kit and took an Uber home. I lowered my pump settings and nervously went to bed.
When I was finally able to talk to my endocrinologist she told me that I had accidentally given myself an insulin overdose and that I should have reduced my basal insulin settings on the pump for the first 24 hours after re-attaching the pump.
Before we set out on our trip I thought I had asked every question, planned every detail, limited every risk, prepared for every situation. But life isn’t entirely predictable and my best-laid plans and my carefully drafted lists couldn’t always protect me. Life is for living—risks and all.
After my hospital experience, I was thankful. Thankful that Dave was there and knew what to do. Thankful we had not let my worry or fear keep us home. If we hadn’t gone on our year-long dream trip, if we had clung to the safety and security of home, I would have regretted it.
Pam is a retired paralegal and a contented travel addict. She wrote a book about her year of traveling to help others with diabetes who want to travel. Learn more at www.bravingtheworldbook.com.
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