The Blood-Drop Finger

Wednesday, August 5, 2015 Life

The author's views on challenges faced by diabetes patients through the eyes of a woman




The Blood-Drop Finger

I am one among those who kick start their bikes to go to gym that is just half a mile away. Men and women at around 25 years young are mostly worried about their bellies and body structure. They find dedicated time for work out but they are casual rest of the time. What purpose is served if you are lazy to walk half a mile but spend an hour in gymnasium? It is observed that the number of women suffering from diabetes is in exponential rate to the number of men suffering from the same. The possible reason could be the ‘No’ from their mothers.

“Mom, Shall I go play basketball with those boys?”

“No girl, let the boys play. You watch TV or help me in kitchen.”

The muscles and tendons of a girl are often unused. The ‘boys-only’ cliché still lingers on most of the minds in our country. This could be the first reason for the origin of one of the cruelest diseases known so far- Diabetes Mellitus.

 

80% of the ladies suffer from diabetes at the time of pregnancy. It is not a good feeling when the doctors strictly warn you about the diet you take in. If it was all about me, I would have pasted a scornful smile on my face and have walked away but this was all about my baby. Heart disease, organs malfunction and other scientific terms the doctor spat out terrified me. I wanted my baby safe at any cost. Sugarless tea was far better than to see my husband having my favourite flavour ice cream. Daily dose of insulin made me porous. Oats and wheat became my uninvited friends.

The baby was born but diabetes chose to stay inside me. Anyway I had nothing to bother. All my fears were about the child but he was perfectly fine and good. The season of sweet tea was back and I enjoyed it to the core. Everything seemed moving back to normal. I was totally happy as a mother. Eight months from then, I rejoined work because my Mom was at home to take care of my baby. I was covered by a heap of joy swirling around me. Rice, my favourite food, came back into my lunch and dinner tables. I bade a cold farewell to Oats and Wheat. No insulin and no more porous!

In 5 years, I had to be admitted in the hospital again for a non-healing wound on my left leg. Though it seemed a small issue for me, the doctors were so much concerned and warned me to control the diabetes. One of the doctors gave me counselling on what the consequences would be if I took the matter lightly. They did their job and charged a huge bill on us. My husband had taken all what the doctors said directly to his brain and started getting angry on me for each and everything. He started deciding my lunch menu and I really wished if he had not been with me when the doctors jabbered all rubbish.

On a very fine evening after a couple of years, I had a strange and frightening feeling when I had to close one of my eyes to pull out the dust that flew into. I realized I am losing sight. Everything seemed dark except the bright light on the room walls. When I opened the other eye, I couldn't even convince myself that I have lost 70% sight in one eye because everything seemed clear with the glasses that I had been using. That was the point where all my joy eroded down. I was still working when the family decided to put my eyes under the surgical blades. The after-surgery life was pretty difficult. The wounds didn't seem to heal. Periodic eye drops and pokes at the fingertip were irritating but my fears overrode all the irritations and dislikes. It wasn't too long before the interventional cardiologist diagnosed multiple blocks in my heart valves and suggested CABG (bypass surgery). The hospital room, operation theatre, ICU and ITU revolved around my life. My son was 8 then and I did not want to scare him. I threw hopeful smiles at my child whenever he peeked in through the glass window.

I had to quit working when the other eye started disliking me. I heard even the blind have a chance to get the sight back by replacing the cornea but not diabetic patients as the affected part is not the cornea but the nerves that carry the impulse to brain. In less than three months, I was down to 20% sight. I was unable to cook or wash clothes. I wanted to do it all but I just couldn't. I wanted to work but the office didn't prefer me. All the rubbish the doctors warned me about was not just to increase the amount in the hospital bills. I am no longer an outdoor person. I spend my days sitting on a corner room helplessly. It is rather depressing to know that there is a possibility I may pass on the deadly disease to my children as well.  I wish my son would grow up to write my life and warn other mothers not to scare them but to save them from the plight of diabetes. The blood drop at the fingertip matters a lot. ‘Sweets are not that sweet’.


written by
Ajay Peter




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