First off, forgive me that this is not about McCain, Palin, Obama, or Biden. Heck, it's not even about politics at all. It's just something that has been on my mind since it happened, and I wanted to write it out to see if I could start thinking about something else. Like work, f'rinstance.
What the hell am I talking about?
Yesterday evening I was chasing the kids around while my wife was finishing dinner. On one trip into the living room I noticed our neighbor across the street seemed to be laying on his front walkway, right at the base of his front porch.
Odd.
Wait, maybe that was a flashlight in his hand. Perhaps he's looking for something. He did just move. That sure is an odd angle, though, and he does have some sort of medical history, as witnessed by the ambulance and paramedics seen tending to him in his front yard earlier this summer.
"Honey, I think there's something wrong with our neighbor across the street."
So my wife came in and looked too. She wasn't sure what was going on. So I put my shoes on while she got my cell phone, and I walked across the street.
He was laying there with his head in his front shrub. Not moving. Oh, please let him be breathing. There it is. Good.
"Joe?" (not his real name) "Joe, are you okay? It's me, Praxxus, your neighbor from across the street."
He actually turned at the sound of my voice, but I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't there. I called 9-1-1.
The lady I talked to was very nice and helpful, she asked if he was diabetic.
"I don't know...hang on, I think he has a medical bracelet." I had to struggle with Joe a little bit to see his bracelet. He most definitely wasn't in control. Motions were spasmodic, and any noises he made were just guttural grunts. "Yeah, it's a medical alert bracelet. Says he has diabetes and hypertension."
Shortly after that the first responders showed up (we live just over a mile from the nearest fire station), with the ambulance not too far behind. One of the responders had actually come out to Joe's house the last time, and knew from his appearance and his history that it was his diabetes.
The paramedics did a really good job. Joe is a big guy, and as the aforementioned responder noted, "He gets kinda mean." Poor Joe fought them every step of the way, from the initial insulin shot, to cutting his shirt sleeve and pumping some glucose into his arm.
I stayed there, moving his stuff out of the way and keeping an eye out for his wife, who wasn't home. I figured no one likes coming home to 4 emergency vehicles flashing in front of their house. So I watched Joe roll around his front lawn. I watched five people have to hold him down. I watched him try to bite someone on the ankle. I watched them pin him down and shove a needle in his arm to put the glucose in. This wasn't your nice sterile "giving blood at the clinic" arm jab, either. It was messy. Joe had already skinned his knuckles and hands from rolling around on the sidewalk.
After the glucose, Joe started to calm down. The paramedics got his cell phone, and were all playing a game of "not it!" about calling his wife, so I volunteered. I had already looked up their home info on my phone, so found his wife's number by matching "home phone" entries. Got her voicemail. Crap.
Joe was starting to come around. Couldn't remember a damn thing. A paramedic noticed Joe's gas cap hanging out of the gas door on his truck, and asked him if he had gotten gas on the way home. Joe said he had tried, but couldn't get the pump to work . . . or something. Holy crap, this guy was already mostly out of it, and he drove home.
Called Joe's wife again, and got ahold of her. Told her what was going on. She was at the grocery store, and would be home shortly. Joe was standing by then, and the paramedics were taking him into his house. I gathered up his personal stuff that was scattered around his yard, and went in. I put his stuff in various places, saw that he was tired (and I think embarrassed) but okay, and headed back home.
Then an evening full of questions from a confused three year-old ensued. What was wrong with our neighbor? Why did he fall down? Why was he rolling on his yard? Why did you go in his house? Over, and over, and over. The poor kid was obviously upset. The questions continued this morning, and very well might resume again this afternoon. We'll just keep answering them, and reassuring him that Joe is okay now.
I'm not sure why this is bugging me so much. My dad was diabetic, but he was the "high blood sugar" variety. I never saw him, or even knew of him, getting in the kind of shape Joe was in last night. Something about it is certainly stuck in my brain, though.
I'm just glad the kids ran into the living room, and I looked out the window.
That's all. If you made it through the whole thing, thanks for reading. I appreciate the chance to unload.