My job for Friday got cancelled early in the morning, which gave me time to pack my truck: water bottles, fire wood, camping supplies. I started at sun rise. With the packing done for this weekend's car camp in central Arizona, I relaxed and read a little of my history assignment. I didn't have to leave until Kevin got back from work.
At 9:30am Kevin's cell phone rang in the kitchen. He had put the phone on the charger and forgotten it before going to work.
It was his doctor's office. He was to go to the hospital IMMEDIATELY because of severely high blood sugar. The sugar was off the charts.
Shit, I thought, Kevin is sometimes all over the post when he's working and the only contact would be his cell phone. I looked at his phone's contact list to find Tommy's number. Tommy said Kevin was at the "Q hut." Luckily Kevin had that number in his cell phone, too. I got through to him right away.
"Kevin, the doctor's office called. You have severely high blood sugar and need to go to the hospital right away."
He didn't fuss, he didn't fight. "I'm coming home" he replied.
I called Steve and cancelled my car camp for this weekend, hiding my emotions that, I could tell, had been slowly surfacing to my limits over the past five years.
"I need to be here for Kevin" I told Steve, and he understood right away.
Within an hour of that first dreadful phone call, Kevin and I were at the emergency room. Within 45 minutes he was on a gurney in a flimsy nightgown getting tested, placed on an insulin bag, and monitored. Several nurses and doctors came by. Kevin's heart rate went from 132/92 to 117/72 in the four hours we were there.
"I've never been in a hospital before" said Kevin, other than for visiting other people.
The doctor wanted Kevin admitted for a few days. A blood sugar level this high (973) was indicative of a long-term problem that his body had been slowly become accustomed to. He could have kidney or liver failure or coronary disease.
Or cancer. But this time it was "only" severe diabetes. The primary focus of the doctors was to get his blood sugar stabilized before other tests were conducted.
Kevin took it all well. He looked so passive on that bed, listening to the nurses and doctors and not replying with defensive counter attacks like he does with me. He was a model patient.
"I will listen to my doctors" he told me.
One doctor suggested Kevin be admitted to the ICU. As a newly-diagnosed diabetic he would need extra care, she explained. But Kevin and I agreed that he wasn't in immediate life danger to require ICU. It was an unnecessary cost. He ended up in the ward categorized just below ICU, the critical care ward.
Kevin looked so handsome in that bed, laying quietly, staring at the TV from time to time, taking short naps. His weight loss has been dramatic, but he is looking physically better now than just a few weeks ago. His skin tone looks better. He looks like he did ten years ago, albeit greyer and older. His rugged New England mountainman features have come back.
What was going through his head, though? I felt vindicated, I told him. After all those years of wanting him to quit his smoking and excessive drinking and knowing of his family history of cancer and diabetes, I knew that without some drastic intervention he was not going to live long. He was taking himself, and me in the process, to an early grave.
And for five years he didn't give a damn about my own emotional suffering. Men can be so selfish at times.
By 3pm I had to leave to take lunch. I stayed in town, got him some hygiene products at Target. My lunch was a quick jot down to Taco Bell. I was on my second burrito when Kevin called me back; he had been moved to a new room. Tommy, his best friend from work, was already in the room with Kevin. Thank god for Tommy.
Tommy's wife is a nurse. He told her what Kevin's blood sugar level was. "I don't want to tell you what she said" said Tommy, and I didn't want to hear it, either. I already knew.
"This may help me quit smoking too" said Tommy. He even added that perhaps Tommy and Kevin could both go on a health kick together, sharing healthy foods at work and going through smoking cessation together. It's at work when he does his most smoking.
"If you need anything, call Gary" said Kevin. I'll be fine. Gary is a former co-worker of Kevin's who retired in September. Gary is a proud patriot and admires me for my military service.
I stayed with Kevin until after his meal. Kevin's roommate, an elderly man named Walter, had been admitted with advanced colon-lung cancer that had spread to his brain, causing the man delirium. He was coughing loudly, and the monitor beeped intrusively ever five seconds. The noise added drama to the room which I didn't need. Two people were by Walter's side, either his children or a married couple related to him.
I could hear the doctor-family conversation in full, and it wasn't a conversation I really wanted to be a part of.
"He wants to die peacefully at home" said the woman, who was either the man's daughter or daughter-in-law. The man was divorced and the children were now his life executors. "He'd been smoking for many years, but quit around 2003" the woman added, and admitted that the man had other illnesses over the years, diabetes being one of them that he had been able to control.
I stayed with Kevin through his meal time (chicken noodle soup, vanilla pudding, apple juice, coffee). This was not a standard meal for a man who likes his steak and beer. I left when a nurse came in with a large portable laptop to do more tests. I didn't want to be in the way.
I went home to face my own demons. I couldn't concentrate well; I was emotionally drained. How am I going to get through all this without visible signs of mental or physical demise myself? Kevin and I have many changes ahead of us this year. I hope we both survive them all.
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