We’re quick to point out when someone does something wrong, aren’t we? When service at a restaurant is slow or the taxi we booked arrives 15 minutes late, we’re quick to lose our patience. How often do we point out when someone does something right? I don’t do it enough, but I’d like to change that, starting with this very personal thank you.
I have type 1 diabetes. It’s a life-threatening disease that takes a lot of work to manage. Most people with diabetes have type 2 – a metabolic disorder often triggered by weight issues and sedentary behaviour that can sometimes be controlled with diet and exercise. Type 1 (which is rare in comparison) is an autoimmune disease usually diagnosed in childhood that has nothing to do with lifestyle. Contrary to type 2, people with type 1 are often underweight at diagnosis. To stay alive, type 1s have to take insulin every time they eat. And all that artificial insulin comes with a serious risk of low blood-sugar levels. Low sugar levels can be deadly if not treated immediately. They’re common (unfortunately) and most type 1s deal with a few episodes every week. I’ve often worried what would happen if I had a severe low in this country while alone in public. The story in my head goes like this: no one would understand what was wrong or know what to do. The language barrier would prevent rapid treatment and, if my sugar level was too low for me to help myself, I’d likely die. A little dramatic, I know, but I’ve been living in this little cloud of fear since I moved here.
Last month, while at Abu Dhabi’s Nation Galleria Mall, I was in a class with my 2-year-old when I felt myself start to slip away. My blood sugar was dropping rapidly. I was shaky, dizzy and confused. I usually have sugar in my purse – this day, I didn’t; so I abruptly left the class (and my child) to find the quickest source of sugar. In the 20 seconds it took to get to Wafi Gourmet, my entire body was shaking, sweat was running down my face and I was losing my ability to speak – all symptoms of very low blood sugar. I knew I was minutes away from unconsciousness. I asked the cashier for help and here’s the surprise: the staff knew exactly what to do. I barely said the words “type 1 diabetes. I need sugar” and they immediately poured me a glass of orange juice, even adding honey for an extra sugar boost. The staff hovered around, keeping me safe, conscious and alive.
One of the women helping me worked behind the deli. I overheard her explaining type 1 diabetes and the seriousness of low blood sugars to her colleagues. When I recovered, I asked her name. “Jenny,” she said. I asked: “How did you know?” She said: “I’m a nurse, ma’am.”
I was lucky nurse Jenny was working behind the deli that day, but even without medical training, the rest of the staff understood the seriousness of the situation and were more than able to help. To the Wafi Gourmet team: thank you, not just for helping me out of a life-threatening situation, but for teaching me how to have more faith in people. I’ve learnt that we are all far more capable than we give each other credit for – whether we speak the same language or not. My little cloud of fear just got a lot smaller.
sjohnson@thenational.ae