Cassie had made the trip from Ball State to Purdue to pick me up, and we then stopped by Butler University to get Zach on the way. Seems like a nonsensical path to take, but we were freshmen in college at the time and Cassie was the only one with a vehicle in her possession. So we made it work.
Looking back, it is amazing how oblivious we all were to what was actually happening....or maybe it was just me?! I had somehow managed to look past, or maybe even block out entirely, the severity of what we were experiencing. Come to think of it, I still tend to do this when something goes wrong. Defense mechanism, perhaps?!
So we drove.... Muncie to West Lafayette. West Lafayette to Indianapolis. Indianapolis to Cincinnati. Actually, to fully comprehend this story, I guess I should start from the beginning....
My childhood best friend was diagnosed with Type 1 Juvenile Diabetes at an extremely young age. Having lived across the street from each other from as far back as I can remember until around the time we were 15, I had seen it all. I knew exactly what type of sugars he was allowed to have and what times of the day they were acceptable.
Typically, snack time meant animal crackers, a Snack Pack or Jell-O concoction and a fruit roll-up during the school day and another similar snack in the evening. He would sometimes switch it up with Teddy Grahams or a low sugar cookie option, but always a fruit roll-up. I had to monitor this for YEARS, so I can recite the routine in my sleep - prick your finger, squeeze the tiniest drop of blood on the test strip, put it into the monitor and wait while it tests your blood sugar, log the results in your journal, eat your snack....
Can you imagine the repetition of this practice as a young kid, adolescent, and then young adult? At a time when peer pressures are heightened and no one truly understands what a silent disease like this can do to a body if not cared for properly?! Sometimes, I do feel like the lack of education and knowledge of not only our peers, but our coaches and teachers was detrimental to his well being....
Not for me though. I knew everything. I was exposed to every part of what it meant to have Juvenile Diabetes when we were so young, that I truly grew up with it in my life as much as he did. I have dialed and spoken with 911, I have gotten into arguments throughout elementary and middle school when he would try to sneak Swiss Cake Rolls or an ice cream treat and I have had to confront teachers, taking them aside to explain that instead of attempting to discipline him for acting out, they should actually be calling the EMT because he had gone into diabetic shock.
I have done all of these things, multiple times, starting around age 8. I was forced to understand the disease, how it worked and how he functioned with it, because we were around each other so frequently. I think it was for this reason that we always remained close despite our clear differences. Even though we ended up hanging out with somewhat different core groups in high school, I still remained one of the few people who actually knew who he was.
It was no secret that he did not take care of himself the way he should have. He drank, he smoked, he wanted to be normal. While everyone else was having cake and ice cream at their birthday parties, he wanted it to. And because we had gone our separate ways a bit, no one was there to monitor his intake or tell him otherwise once we hit high school. Not that a 17 year old kid should have needed a babysitter, but still....
So we drove.... Muncie to West Lafayette. West Lafayette to Indianapolis. Indianapolis to Cincinnati. All the while thinking about the series of events that had taken place that week and why this trip was even necessary.
I had gotten the call earlier in the week, informing me that Christopher had gone into diabetic shock/insulin reaction. OK, nothing out of the ordinary. It happened so frequently growing up that it became second nature. He would be in the hospital for a couple of days and then would bounce back by the weekend most likely. I knew the drill, nothing serious.
A couple of days went by and we neared the weekend, not much had changed. Christopher was still in the hospital and it was suggested that maybe we come home to visit him. I must have really been delusional at this point, because I still was in the mindset that this was just a nice thing to do. A formality almost. I even remember being slightly annoyed, because I had just started college and did not want to make the trip back home so soon. I had no idea....
We pulled up to the hospital, still clueless. As we walked in together, we saw a few familiar faces - family, a couple of close friends, but nothing too surprising for just a simple hospital visit. Christopher's mother came over and hugged us, told us that he was up in the ICU and that it would be a few minutes before they would let us in to see him. They had to hook him back up to some machines or something. I am not doctor, nor was I pre-med, so this all seemed like standard protocol for me at the time.
We took the elevator up and had to wait for awhile while they did...whatever it was they were doing. Finally! We were allowed in. It was truly one of those situations, like in a slow motion movie sequence, when you instantly come to the realization that you were wrong about everything. It was much more serious than I had thought. And even in that moment, I still did not understand what was happening.
He appeared to be hooked up to a machine that was breathing for him. THAT SOUND. That sound, legitimately haunted me for weeks thereafter. It was terrible, and I can "hear" it now as I type this. I will never forget the words spoken to me while the four of us stood around the bed together, when it all finally clicked and the reality of why we were really there sank in. I was quite literally in a room with a dead body when I found out that it was, in fact, a dead body. I freaked out.
I will spare the details of what exactly happened and why. Long story, short....Christopher had gone into severe diabetic shock, essentially dying, and then was "brought back" in a comatose state. He remained in this state throughout the course of the week, brain dead. A vegetable. If he were to survive, it would have been at the hand of machines, not himself.
The next few days were a complete blur, still sort of are. I know that Cassie and I spent a lot of time with his mother. I remember we were helping her go through some things in his room and, at one point, she found some art project that he claimed to have done....turns out it was mine! We all had a good laugh. A much needed laugh. In this same moment, when we were all laughing in his room, the light flickered. Of course we are all fully aware that it could have been anything, but we all like to think it was him, telling us in that happier moment that it was all OK.
Whenever someone talks about mental toughness, or what it means to overcome, I always pat myself on the back for what I did next. While it may sound a bit self-absorbed, or even conceited, I think the fact that I was able to drum up the courage and managed to get through what was, arguably, one of the most difficult experiences of my life to date, without a single tear shed, says something in itself. I spoke at the funeral.
Dealing with death is never easy, and to be honest I do not feel like it gets any easier as the years pass. In a week filled with memorials, reminders of the past, I think this one in particular is always just a little bit harder than the others. One that weighs on your mind just a little bit more because of the significance of the days prior, the prep time leading up to it. You are always reminded that it is coming. It is not just a date you look at on your calendar the day of and think, "oh yea..." But for these same reasons, I find peace. Knowing that others probably feel the same, and that the remembrances of us all will live on.
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