Insulin Pump Users

Lessons for the teacher/an old favorite from Diabetes Forecast

Lessons for the teacher

As a Diabetes Educator, Patients often ask me if I have diabetes. When I reply
"no," I can detect a faint look of disappointment on their
faces. It’s as if they are saying: "How can you possibly understand what it
is like to live with diabetes?"

It is a point well taken and I realized that to truly understand life with
diabetes, I would need to experience some aspects of it for myself. It
was time to step out of my educator shoes and into those of my patients.

After four years of teaching people how to manage diabetes, I felt prepared to
take on a new task. For the next month, I lived my life as if I had diabetes.

I engaged in the endless array of tasks necessary to lower blood sugar and
prevent the long-term complications. I entered into my diagnosis with the
naivete of a lamb about to enter the lion’s den.

Day 1 was a problem. I didn’t remember that I had diabetes until I was well on
my way to work. I recalled my advice to plan ahead and to have all supplies
prepared the evening before. That night, I organized the glucose meter,
syringes, and the bottle of saline (I couldn’t of course, take insulin). I
was ready for the early morning chaos of preparing a family of five for
another day.

Day 2 was better, at least in the morning. I checked my blood sugar level,
dutifully recorded it in a log-book, and injected 10 units of saline. No
problem, I assured myself. I can do this. The day went well until lunchtime.
I arrived at the cafeteria and realized that I had
forgotten my meter in the office. The trip back to retrieve my supplies
shaved precious moments off my break. By the time I had checked my blood
glucose, recorded the results, and injected four units of saline, my
colleagues were already eating. Back home that night, I fought the felling of
irritation, as once again, I had to stop my usual routine to
include these new activities. I said my prayer for thanks that this was only
for a month.

Day 3 through 7 were a continuation of the first leg of my journey.
Incorporating the survival skills of monitoring and giving injections was
the best I could manage at that time. I had not even considered meal planning
or exercise (after all, it was January and this was Michigan). Again, I said
a prayer of gratitude that this was temporary. I also reflected on how easy I
had made these lifestyle changes sound to my patients.

The second week, I packed my carbohydrate counter in my pocket and proceeded
to take on food. This was more of a problem than I had
anticipated. What I had once considered a friend now seemed more like an
enemy. Friend or enemy, I had never given much thought to food. Not that I
didn’t love food, I just never gave much thought to what I ate and when. The
need to constantly think about what and when I last ate an when I needed to
eat again was oppressive. It took the fun out of one of my
favorite activities. Worse yet, I realized I had not given thought to what
kind of "insulin" I was taking. Again, I reflected, but this time I
focused on the multitude of skills and knowledge required to successfully
manage diabetes.

By week 3, I was well into my routine of monitoring, injecting, measuring and
timing. I toyed with the idea of pretending that I had only
challenged myself to two weeks instead of four. But if I couldn’t complete a
month, how could I expect my patients to do this for a
lifetime? Onward I went, adding exercise to my daily routine. Despite the
weather, this was the easiest of change for me. My dog, Reilly, quickly got
in on the routine and wouldn’t let me off the hook. Dressed appropriately, I
felt energized.

Week 4, the final week, was both a relief as well as the longest week of my
life. I had had enough! I finished my journey a better and more
compassionate nurse, and so grateful for my good health.

I also fully recognize that this was only a test. I didn’t have to live with
the fear of low blood sugars, ketoacidosis, or any of the long-term
complications of diabetes. I am in awe of my patients who, in spite of their
diabetes, maintain an attitude of cheerfulness and acceptance.

Although I was never fond of the word, I now cringe when I hear health
providers refer to patients as "non-compliant." When I catch them at it, I
use it as an opportunity to tell my story and to encourage them to "walk a
mile" in their patients’ shoes.

Marueen Anthony, RN, CDE, is an assistant professor of nursing at the
University of Detroit Mercy School of Nursing and a part-time diabetes
educator at Oakwood Annapolis Hospital in Wayne, Michigan

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 23rd, 2007 at 2:49 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.