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T he T rue S Tory of o vercoming The e ffecTS of J uvenile D iabeTeS

B y : M axine e laine J aMes

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Maxine elaine JaMes For the sake oF diabetes Copyright 2011 all rights reserved. no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author and publisher. Published by: Maxine elaine James isbn 978-1-897544-59-4

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This non-fiction story is the revelation of having diabetes at a tender age of twelve years-old or younger. I struggled hard in accepting the fact of living with this condition my entire life. Added to my struggles were the dos and don'ts that will curtail my life if disobeyed. I was the third and youngest at home afflicted with this dreaded disease. Fighting with school and diabetes had drained me both mentally and physically at times. Fear also swept through my mind after this disease had taken the lives of my mother and younger sister. I was lenient to death because I felt as though I could not escape dying from this condition also. My reason for writing this book is that someone experiencing this condition may gather courage from my experiences.

Table of conTenTs:
C hapter 1) t he i nnoCent J uvenile ............................6 C hapter 2) M y F aMily t hree ................................... 23 C hapter 3) C lass a Ction ......................................... 30 C hapter 4) D isappearing e nergy ............................. 41 C hapter 5) v illage n eighBors ................................ 46 C hapter 6) o ne By o ne ........................................... 54 C hapter 7) n athaniel the B rother in C harge ........ 66 C hapter 8) Jas ........................................................ 71 C hapter 9) t he i nsulin s hot ................................... 76

Developing diabetes at a tender age.

How the three of us deal with our diabetes at home. My coping with school and diabetes.

How my body operates when blood-sugar is low. Neighbors attitude towards diabetes.

My fright, as my family dies one by one. My mothers request before passing on. My sister knowledge.

C hapter 10) a C hilD on C all .................................. 79 C hapter 11) t he M ove ............................................ 87 C hapter 12) C oMpassion or a Dvantage ? ................. 94 C hapter 13) a CCoMpanying M rs . M organ ............. 103

How things could be different had I known how to give the insulin shots. My duties and help to the elderly. Moving from home to the city.

My puzzling thoughts of my cousins care. The hurting lies of Mrs. Morgan.

C hapter 14) C ruCial a FFairs ................................. 106 C hapter 15) F roM t raining to B arClays ............... 112 C hapter 16) M y F ather s l egaCy .......................... 117 C hapter 17) t he t ruth s hall s et y ou F ree .......... 119 C hapter 18) M y h usBanD M y D isappointMent ...... 122 C hapter 19) W hat D oes it p roFit ? ........................ 127

My encounter with the undesirables.

This chapter tells of my first true job. This land which was mine. My low character friends.

The stigma of being rejected because of diabetes.

Overcoming the bitterness and hurt of my avengers.

C hapter o ne

t he i nnoCent J uvenile
The previous month had been a splendid one for me. My mother took me to the city of Kingston to spend some time with my elder brother to celebrate Easter. Caribbean folks do celebrate this splendid season with much baking and eating of sugar buns and cheese, fried fish and bammies (pastry made from cassava) and dancing. Meanwhile the churches commemorate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. While we were in the city, my mother did spoil me a little. I got away with the kind of eating that was not allowed at home. Money was scarce. Therefore conserving and recycling were a part of our life style. One of my sweet-tooth favorite habits was to combine dried milk powder with brown sugar. I used to dash a tantalizing teaspoon full of it into my mouth as often as I got the urge for it. I was always scared of travelling in a motor vehicle because of motion sickness. Travelling on the big country bus usually irritates me. The smell of the bus, and cigarette smoke, combined with the gasoline or diesel fuel contributed to my motion illness. Mama was always aware of my problem. As soon as we got onto the bus and settled in our seats, Mama tucked some papers between my

Chapter 1 - the innocent Juvenile

blouse and my chest. She then placed a nutmeg into my mouth, assuming that all this would help to prevent me from throwingup. The only solution we found that did combat my motion sickness was to lay on my Mama's lap, which kept my stomach still. I would not vomit while I was laying down. I felt like my motion sickness however, had something to do with my brain, my eyes and my stomach. Once in a while I would hold my head up and looked out the window, to get an idea of where we were. Some sections of the road were bumpy and steep. The uneven surface causes the bus to rock from side to side like a donkey carrying heavy load as the driver slowly drove along. This is a journey Mama took several times per year, sometimes without me. There was a guardrail on top of the bus, the length and width of the bus to prevent articles from falling off whenever the bus turned corners or when the road was bumpy. Two sidemen, the conductor who collected the fares, and the driver worked as a team. It always amazes me the way the sidemen loaded the bus with the vendors goods, such as yams, both green and ripe bananas, various fruits and vegetables. Everything was carefully wrapped with dried banana leaves or other protective materials, in order to avoid bruises or damages and that they reached the market safely. The heavier and larger goods were carried onto the roof of the bus. Upon arriving at the spot where the goods were, one of the sidemen climbed the stairs that lead from the backside of the bus to the roof. The other sideman on the ground would select each piece of item and threw it one at a time to the sideman on top of the bus, who catches each piece without dropping or missing. If the goods were too heavy to throw, one would push while the other dragged it up the side of the bus. He then placed them neatly on the roof, leaving space for others. There were several markets on the route to Kingston. When all was aboard, the sideman on the roof scaled down to the ground or to the doorstep of the bus, where he rode most of the way. The sidemen then slapped the side of the bus

Maxine elaine James - For the Sake of Diabetes

twice with the palm of their hand, or one of them would utter a high-pitched whistle indicating to the driver to move on. As the driver pulled away form the curve the sidemen jumped on, one to the front door and the other to the back door where they rode. If the driver misunderstood and took other banging as an indicator to move on, the sidemen would yell "tan-up!" In Jamaican patios, which means, stand up, wait, or hold on. Immediately the driver held down the breaks and the passengers pitched forward. Those who were standing felt the jolt more than those sitting, as their bodies pitched foreword and sideways meanwhile securing a firmer grip on the overhead iron rail. Mama and I pitched foreword in our seats as though we were bowing. The sideman on the roof expecting the jerk then braced himself by securing a firmer foothold. The driver then waited for a proper indication to go. When the bus reached the vendors desired market gate, the sidemen did the reverse in getting the load down from the roof of the bus. I found the bus seats uncomfortable, especially when going on a long journey; I don't know how Mama tolerated them. We passed some pastures and fields where cows, horses and goats were grazing on the hillside. Some were lying down under the shade of trees. When I looked at the animals, they seemed to be going around, floating away from us, and I felt as though I were riding backward and I found Mama's lap immediately as the old country bus rattled along. Despite the note of caution posted on each window, which read, "Keep your head and hands inside." There were times when I sat up and I had to hold my head outside the bus window and against my will, almost as fast as a bullet, to empty the contents of my stomach while the old Leyland chugged along. Mama always gave me the window seat. One month later, Mama and I returned to our house in the country. When we got home, I felt like a little princess among the other girls in our hamlet because not many of them ever got the opportunity to visit the big city. While in Kingston, Mama and I would also visit my eldest

Chapter 1 - the innocent Juvenile

sister while my brother Nathaniel would be busy with his job working as my wealthy aunt's chauffeur. My sister had more time on her hands because her husband had hired of her a live-in helper. My sister and her husband were beekeepers. They sold honey, honeycomb and wax for their living. The business was quite successful. Sometimes Mama would leave me at my sister's place for a day or two. The first time she did so I cried until Nat had to drive her back the two miles for me after an hour. Nat was not pleased when he got the call that he had to repeat his journey twice for the day. I was not aware how attached I was to Mama until now. My sister was not pleased either that I refused staying with her, but I was not acquainted with her. Yvette, her daughter, who was two years my senior, enjoyed my company and wanted me to stay. Lloyd, her eldest child I grew up with, but my sister I did not know very well. While I was in Kingston my sister took Yvette and me to the kids show and to the National Pantomime where live plays were performed. I always enjoyed the plays and just being seated in the theatre. The "Ward Theatre" was huge and was chosen specifically for the showing of the National Pantomime each year. As I sat in my seat taking pleasure in the cold air that the air conditioner was puffing out, I imagined myself swinging on a rope like a monkey from the high dome ceiling, from one point to the next above the rows of purple colored upholstered theatre chairs. This I did not share with anyone but I told them about the play' and other activities. They listened attentively as I told them about the indoor plumbing at my sister's and brother's homes. And that there were no out-houses and no one goes to the river for a bath. The laundry room, kitchen and bathrooms were under the same roof, and my sister had an electric oven in the kitchen. One did not need to go down on one's knees to wash and polish the floors. There were large supermarkets in Kingston where one walked in and chose what one liked, instead of asking a shopkeeper to do the serving. My sister had a swimming pool in the back of the yard. If it was

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not covered then lots of mango leaves would fall in and some did fall in while they were swimming. Yvette and I sometimes took the stairs to the top of the flat-cemented roof where we played. My sister at times would come to see Mama and me at my brother's home, which was about two miles from her house. She always brought with her, fruitcakes and banana fritters. The fritters I did not care for because after eating them I would have heartburn at night. If it was Christmas, I would return home with lots of toys and new clothes. Once my sister made me a yellow knitted matching bag and hat. When I got home, most girls wanted one like mine. I, of course, asked my sister to make me some more so that I could give to them, my friends, but she ran out of the material with which she made mine. A few weeks after I arrived home from my delightful holiday in Kingston, I figured that something unusual was happening to me, or it had already happened. One bright, clear, sunny morning in early May of 1972, I awoke and strolled lazily outside. I was the last person to get out of bed that morning. I did not have a restful sleep the night before. I had lain in bed that night, listening to the sound of dogs barking, both near and far away. I heard the leaves on the trees rustling in the night breeze, dried leaves tumbling over stones and whirl-pooling against big rocks and against each other. I heard ripe mangoes leaving their branches, tearing through the green leaves of lower branches, and landing on the ground with a thud. It was a wonder, listening to the stillness of the night whenever the wind and other sounds of the night paused. Mama had a Bankra (a softer and more refined type of basket) hanging on a hook above our heads in the living-room. We had no cabinet to store our goodies, therefore; the Bankra was our overhead pantry. But at night the mice would also share our pantry with us, as if they were the ones who did the shopping and baking. Often times when I couldn't sleep at nights, I would quietly get out of bed and give the Bankra a sudden wild, but firm shake, which sent the mice scampering with fright. Sometimes the mice

Chapter 1 - the innocent Juvenile

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were so frightened that one would jump from the Bankra on to my hand. My scream would disrupt my father's sleep. With anger he would shout at me, "Gal, why are you not sleeping?" At night when it rained I would lay in bed with my face towards the ceiling listening to the raindrops piercing the zinc roof and imagine the drops playing the Steal Band. When day was about to break, that usually was the time sleep came upon me. May was an exciting month for me because I knew that my birthday was coming up soon, but on the morning of May 5th , I woke up feeling unlike myself. I was sluggish, weak, sleepy, and thirsty and my entire body was itching. It was no ordinary itching. It was the type of itching that bits into me and made me want to scratch deep beneath the surface of my skin. The itching had a wet-skin effect, although my skin was dry. I needed more than my ten fingers to scratch with. I rubbed against the walls. Passing by the bed I stopped and rubbed on the bedpost. On my way to another room I paused and take advantage of the door frame or anything else to get relief, while my fingers digging franticly into my feet, legs, arms and head like a mad dog. The itching worsened, especially when I urinate or whenever I had a bath or my skin got wet or damp. The welts on my body appear to be on the verge of bleeding from the aggressive scratching. I was losing weight steadily, which was not a concern to me because there were skinny children all around. Leaning on the kitchen door without saying a word, Mama looked at me with deep concern and compassion, itching like a mad dog and whining. She did nothing to help me but I knew that her mind was working on my behalf. Calamine lotion was of no use or help to me; in fact, it made the itching worse upon application. This went on for about seven days straight. I felt as though I was about to go mad. My nieces, Dorrett and Blossom, nephew Jimmy, looked at me but showed little sign of sympathy for what I was going through. At one point Mama thought that I was playing in the bushes and had come in contact with the plant we called the Cow-witch. This plant grows and runs wild in the bushes. It bears something

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Maxine elaine James - For the Sake of Diabetes

resembling pea-pods, only that the skin is brown and fuzzy like the skin 'of the kiwi fruit. Whenever the skin comes in contact with the Cow-witch, it itches severely. I assured Mama that I was nowhere near that plant. I could not stand it any longer and I begged Mama to give me some of her urine testers. Mama planted them into my hand reluctantly. She was a diabetic. In her mind she thought I could not possibly have diabetes because no one had ever seen or known of any child at such a tender age to be a diabetic. About the eighth day of my profuse itching and torment, I felt as though I was pinned down into the devil's ant nest and was being bitten all over my body. "What a shock! Oh God! I am done for now." Hundreds of negative thoughts rushed through my mind. Oh how I felt my heart sink. I could hardly bear it when I saw the result of the tested urine in the test tube as I held it in front of my eyes to examine the weird brick-red color. I could not hold back the tears. It was as though a fountain in my eyes had popped open and could not be turned off. Tears leaked from my eyes for several days. I could not answer when asked by Blossom and Dorrett standing next to me at the little table. "What happen?" I stooped right there, in front of that little wooden table where I did the test and cried bitterly. My nieces eventually got the answer by themselves, and then they slowly walked away. My urine test result was so high; its reading was off the chart. Times passed, and it was now just one day before my thirteenth birthday. If this happened to be a birthday gift, this was one of the most crucial gift life could ever handed me, I thought. When Mama took me to the clinic, the nurse was upset. She said to Mama, "Mrs. James, this child could have died and you would be at fault. Why did you keep her at home that long?" Mama told the nurse that she was not aware of my situation, meaning she did not know that my reactions were caused from high blood-sugar. It took two weeks before my blood-sugar was controlled, even though we followed the nurse's simple dietary instructions to stay away from sweets. Nurse suggested a plan

Chapter 1 - the innocent Juvenile

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with my mother for me to stop at the clinic in the mornings on my way to school for my needle. "So I-I, am a diabetic now, I have sugar. Do I have sugar? No, I do not have any sugar; it must be something else. But alas, the test shows I am a diabetic, Yes, I am. What will my school friends think of me? How will they treat me? For sure, they will not like me anymore. They will surely treat me just like they treat Monica who suffered from epilepsy." One day, at school, after lunch, Monica was on her way to her classroom, She was returning the yellow enamel lunch plate to her school bag. Suddenly I saw Monica fall to the ground still holding onto the plate. She was shaking vigorously for about four seconds flinging her hands and feet here and there. Her eyes were not focusing on anything specific, then her sister Effie blurted out. "Eeh-hee now! See you smash up Mama's plate." The students who stood around her watched and kept their distance as though they had seen a ghost; but this was not strange to Monica. I was hoping that Effie would be concerned about her sister's health rather than the soundness of the plate. After Monica regained consciousness, I followed her the rest of the way to her classroom in silence. She did not continue in school much longer after that. I thought, "How will I cope with the changes that I have to make, and, Oh! Oh! I will have to take the injection each and every morning for the rest of my life! Oh God, why me? I am going to die. Oh God, why me? I am innocent. I haven't done anything wrong. I do not deserve this." All through this Mama was silent. My father showed no sign of concern or piety to what I was going through. He also knew nothing about the condition and care of diabetes. His concern was directed to his farm, his meal, and his clothes and to make sure we carried out our chores, mainly me. My opinion of my father was that everyone else could get away with wrong doings except me. Then I remembered a dream I had a few months before. I dreamt that a bug bore through the skin and flesh of my left arm, and by the time I saw it, it was too late to pull it out of my flesh because it had already gone into my arm. Getting out of bed was difficult for me most mornings. I did

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Maxine elaine James - For the Sake of Diabetes

not know why I felt dragged-out and tired, but calling me lazy was unfair. Our house was situated on a hill with a little river running from east to west below and two dirt roads further out. The little river was our showering place in the early mornings when braving the cold. If we' wanted a night bath we would fill the bathtub before sundown. If the water was too cold for a night bath, we would boil water and pour it into the tub. The weather was always warm and with lots of fruit trees surrounding our home. In the center of our yard there was a half beaten-down hill of stones that was left over from the building of our new two bedroom house. The mornings were cool but as the sun rose the day got hotter. I filled the thermos at nights with boiling water, before closing the kitchen door. My father often had crackers and hot chocolate tea before going to bed at night. He would send us to the store before it closed, to buy him some aerated water. He also loved having soda and hard-dough bread at bedtime. Tarzan, our beautiful Collie, and Feefi, our cat, slept under the cellar or on the mat outside the front door. After mother took me to see Dr. Young, mother and Nurse Walters made a plan for me to stop at the clinic every morning on my way to school for my insulin shot. The clinic was about five miles from home. On Saturdays and Sundays I went without insulin. Only God knows how I survived on those days. One night something strange happened to me. Not knowing anything about diabetes, strange things occurred within my body. I had no knowledge about hyperglycemia and hypoglycemia, insulin shock or their reactions. All I remembered was being preached at me was to stay away from sweets and sugar because failing to do so would result in a coma from which I could sleep away and die in my sleep. That thought really scared me. One night I was lying in bed waiting for sleep to come to me, as it had to the rest of my family. I lay there listening to the stillness of the night and to the zinc roof making cracking sounds as they cooled off from the daytime heat. Sometimes I could feel a drop or two of water fell from the zinc roof on me as condensation builds

Chapter 1 - the innocent Juvenile

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up during the night. Suddenly my heart made a quantum leap, as though it jumped the hurdles over some other organs in my chest and found its destination and settled down. In shock, I cried out. Everyone was awakened by my nervous, shaky cry. "What is the matter?" My father grunted from his disrupted sleep. I told him what my heart did. As soon as my nieces realized that I was not dead, they rolled over and went back to sleep. My father's advice was to place two drops of healing oil into some boiled water and drink it. I followed his instructions. Whether it worked or not, I do not know, but I did live to see the light of another day. Healing oil is a remedy that one would find in almost every rural home. One used it to cure almost any illness or wound. Our neighbor, Mrs. Pusey, had two beautiful Cocker Spaniels. One day some evil person used a slingshot and hit one of the dogs in its eye. The eyeball left the socket and was hanging down the dog's face. The dog slowly walked home to Mrs. Pusey with its eyeball dangling in his face. She placed two drops of the healing oil into the dog's wounded eye, and the eyeball went right back into the socket, and the dog was able to see again. That is how the story was handed down to me. Beliefs kill and beliefs cure. So I guessed that healing oil had cured my ailment that night. Yet when I speak of being a diabetic at the age of twelve, I am not sure how much I speak with the voice of that time or with my present voice. Getting out of bed in the morning was very miserable for me most days. One reason for that were my sleepless nights, not knowing that it was also the result of high blood sugar. I had no insulin at home to take. I solely depended on walking down to the clinic for my insulin shot. At the clinic, I would watch nurse get things started in the morning. It was a very clean place and everything was in order. If I were blind, I would know when I reached the clinic by the unique smell of medicines, rubbing alcohol, dressings, gauze and other health care supplies. On a few occasions, the janitor would be there, mowing the back and side lawn; the front was gravel

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Maxine elaine James - For the Sake of Diabetes

where the cars parked and there was a flower garden close to the building. The smell of the freshly cut green grass gave me a lively feeling of a good morning. Before the nurse gave me my insulin, she would sterilize the needles, the glass syringes and the forceps. She placed them in the sterilizer and turned on the switch. A red light came on somewhere near the bottom right of the shiny silver rectangular box. I stood outside the clinic's back door and watched that thing boil for about fifteen minutes. The early mornings were usually quiet, with just a few people there. Sometimes I would be the only one. The grass would be damp with the early morning dew. As the sun rose, the dew evaporated. After the nurse switched on the sterilizer, she would run back to her home for a few minutes. Her home was just nextdoor. Nurse sometimes forgot that I was at the clinic waiting on her for my insulin shot. And I was too shy to yell out to her through the thick shaved hibiscus fence, which divide her home and the clinic; and at the same time hoping she would come so that I would not be late for school. When she returned, there would be a surprised look on her face as she said, "Oh my gosh! Child, I completely forgot that you were here, you should have yell for me." Then she washed her hands hurriedly. I admired the way her white uniform curved at her neat little waist as she turned her back to wash and dry her hands at the sink. Then out came the forceps, needle and syringe as she lifted them out with her padded gloves. Nurse usually placed the insulin from the refrigerator on a small tray with the cotton swabs and alcohol before she went to her home, while the sterilizer boiled. Sometimes after nurse switched on the sterilizer, she continued to putter about the clinic and setting things in order for the day; by which time the sterilizer started to boil. I would receive my insulin then before she gets the chance to leave and I would be early for school. Those needles were made of steel. Nurse used them over and over until they became too blunt, then she would discard them. Nurse used two different

Chapter 1 - the innocent Juvenile

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size needles during this process. The large needle she used to pull down the insulin into the syringe, and then she changed it and connected the small one to the syringe. The small one she inserted into my arm. From the moment she connected the needle to the syringe, I started to shake, but after a few seconds, she would let go off my skinny little arm and ask me to press down on the needle site with the cotton. I said thank you to nurse and left quickly! The next morning I would be all nervous again, until I got my needle. Many years later, I realize that it is impossible for me to ever get used to the reality of getting the needle each morning. One morning, about three weeks later, Mama decided to accompany me to the clinic for my insulin shot. Mama was a diabetic too. This clinic was the only public clinic for the entire village and people came from very far to get medical help. The morning when Mama and I went, I met a young girl named Annie. She was about two years older than I was and about five feet tall. She was a slim girl and had long, black, soft hair and a bright face. When I arrived at the clinic, Annie was standing outside the back door holding a cotton swab on her upper left arm. Annie's arms were slim and hairy with a birthmark resembling an apple. She was wearing a light-brown sleeveless dress with beige lace around the neckline. When our eyes met, I gave her a half-smile. I could not have given her a proper smile because I was nervous about that dreaded needle that nurse was about to thrust into my arm. After my needle, Mama and I went outside. Annie was still standing there. She turned and said to me as Mama and I slowly passed her by, "You have sugar?" Mama answered "Yes" for me because I was crying, not so much from the needle alone but from realizing that I had to take the needle every day for the rest of my life. Annie had hope. She said, "I have sugar too. Don't cry. You can live a long time with sugar (diabetes) if you take care of it." She gave me a cheerful, reassuring smile. We said goodbye to Annie. After that day I never saw Annie again.

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Maxine elaine James - For the Sake of Diabetes

Mama and I set out on our journey to walk the five miles back up the hill to home. But before we did we stopped in town once to buy milk in particular, one of the few dietary items recommended by the nurse for me. No specific dietary plan was given, other than to stay away from sugar and sweets. Eat a little of this and a little of that, but how helpful was that for me? How often should I eat a little yam, rice, dumpling, I thought. Were a slice of hard-dough bread, two mangoes, a banana, a cup of milk and an egg enough for my rundown body or was it overkill for me? We did not have any dietary chart guiding us what to eat, how to eat and when to eat. We had no knowledge that a diabetic eating pattern was somewhat different to that of a normal person. So we stopped at the famous Longshop, a Chinese establishment where the family lived in the large upper floor of the shop. Mrs. Chin, an elderly woman served my mother over the counter. Mama wanted me to drink more milk so that I could put some flesh on my bony frame. On the way home, Mama and I took the shorter route. Some sections of the road were so rough that we had to walk in single file with Mama behind me. Where the road was good, I let Mama catches up with me and I held her hand as we walk. There were lots of mango trees along the way almost to home. Ripe mangoes fell from the trees in front of us and some rolled down the dry and trashy hillside to us. At times it seemed like someone was throwing mangoes at us in the heat of the sun. It was quiet and once-in-a-while a mongoose would dash across the rocky road in front of us. Our eyes and ears were sharp to the slightest sound and or movement. We greeted anyone we met along the way and they the same. Donkeys, horses and mules carefully chose their step along the rocky road. Mama and I ate as much mangoes as we pleased, sometimes more than the amount of starch required for the meal at hand. Donkeys, goats and other passers-by also took pleasure of eating the fruit along the way. Continuing our journey Mama and I searched for a hidden spot for me to urinate, with Mama standing behind me as though shielding me from wandering eyes. I seemed

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to urinate more frequently than Mama. When we reached the standpipe by the roadside we washed our hands, face and the residue of mango from our mouths. We continued our journey with the hot mid-day sun beating down on us. We were hot and tired, and Mama could feel the sweat running down her back. Her handkerchief was saturated with perspiration she wiped from her face, neck and chest. After we reached home Mama and I changed our damped clothes, then Mama sat for a while in the kitchen before she started doing her housework. Most of the time my blood-sugar was high. I was told that I could not get any cut or bruises because I would lose my leg or arm if I should have any sore on them. I was terrified by that thought. I used to walk bare-foot around the house. That came to an end. Mama had some spiked-heeled shoes, (her dress shoes) that she no longer wore and because they were old, and no longer fit for dressing-up purposes. Blossom, Dorrett and I remove the heels and turned them into slippers, for wearing around the house. The shoes then took on a new and different shape. The front of the shoes would stick up into the air like Rumpelstiltskin's while the back would be heel-less and flat. Whenever one needed to see the doctor at the public clinic, one had to be there for registration first. (Between 9:30 AM and 11:00 AM) Even though Dr. Young did not arrive until 1:00 PM, and at times he ran late. Some people arrived early for registration and waited. I seldom went to see the doctor because I'd go straight to see nurse, in the mornings. But when I did, I hated it because of the long wait. Otherwise I bypassed registration and the waiting room. The only time I saw Dr. Young was either for worm medication or for traveling sickness medication. The latter never helped. Some people, after they were registered, would leave the clinic premises and return when the doctor was about to come. Between 9:00 and 12:30, the clinic would be almost empty but by 1:00 PM, the building would be packed with waiting patients. The clinic was a place where vehicles seldom come but on those few days Dr. Young is expected everyone anticipated hearing his car

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Maxine elaine James - For the Sake of Diabetes

laboring up the steep hill. As they waited, all the people craned their necks outside to see if it was Dr. Young coming up the hill, each time a vehicle was heard approaching. Many times they were disappointed. When Dr. Young arrived, everyone was anxiously waiting and I could feel and see the happiness of the people when they heard the sound of his car getting louder and louder as the car turned off the winding road and rumbling up the clinic's winding path to a halt on the graveled parking lot. The doctor strolling through the side door from the parking lot into the clinic, passing through the waiting room to his examining room. It was as though a monarch had arrived. Everyone was silent as Dr. Young passed by. He usually nodded his head to the waiting patients. The waiting room was a large one with two separate washrooms for male and female patients, and a janitor's room. The toilet section of the washroom seemed quite small and hardly any room for one to turn around freely. When building it they seemed not to have any concern for the larger size people. The building was made of waist-high concrete walls and clear seethrough louvered windows all around from waist to near the ceiling of the building. The windows would all be opened and the wind would gently flow through as people waited. There were benches on left and right sides facing the same direction and a large passage between the benches. There was one side door and one back door, in the waiting room area. There was also a side door exiting from the doctor's office on the opposite side of the building. Some people would wait outside under the cool shade of trees until it was near their time to see the doctor. Within three to five minutes, the secretary started calling patients to see the doctor. When it was my turn to go in, I asked Mama to go in with me as other times to see Dr. Young because I was shy and Mama could talk for me and tell the doctor what my complaint was. The last time mother took me to the clinic to see the doctor, she let me go in alone and talk to him by myself. As Dr. Young started to examine the sick, the noise level would

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rise because of crying children getting a needle or a baby being uncomfortable, people moving about and some leaving, while others searched their plastic or paper bags for medicine bottles. Then came a bottle falling from a patient's bag onto the tile floor making a tinkling sound, which captured everyone's attention for a moment. Once I was sitting in the waiting room with Mama and the nurse wanted to do a blood test on a little girl's finger. The girl was about three years old. Nurse asked the girl's mother to hold her and to comfort her while nurse pricked her fingertip for the drop of blood she was attempting to place on the bit of clear slide-glass in her hand. The child started to cry as soon as she saw the sharp object. The mother told the child to hush. The child continued to cry, the mother told her to hush again but the poor child continued crying. To our surprise, the child's mother purposely dropped the child on the hard tile floor in front of the nurse and walked straight down the passage through the back door without looking back. Nurse put down the slide and cotton from her hands and picked up the child and comforted her. No one said a word but I could imagine what they were thinking of that child's mother. The clinic also had a dispensary where the patients got free medicine. From the doctor's office to the dispensary window patients would go with the doctor's prescription, bringing with them some kind of bottle for their liquid medicine but most people carried just an empty clean soda bottle. The clinic always supplied covers for the bottles, and medicine labels. If one did not have a bottle, or if one got liquid medicine unexpectedly, one could buy an empty bottle from the clinic for three pence. If the medicine was dispensed in pill form, it was placed in a new clean bottle or a small cardboard pillbox with cotton stuck inside it. The doctor, nurse and secretary worked fast and hard because by 5:00 PM, all the patients had to be seen. If there were cases that the doctor could not manage at the clinic, he would send those patients to the hospital for admission. The clinic also had a dentist who came every third Saturday morning of the month. His hours were from 10 A.M. to 2 P.M. One

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Maxine elaine James - For the Sake of Diabetes

Saturday morning when I was about nine years-old, Mama took me to the dentist at the clinic. My tooth was aching from cavities, therefore Mama thought it best to get it out. When Dr. Duhaney gave me the anesthetic I began to cry. He usually sent his patients outside for a few minutes, at the back of the clinic where I waited on the nurse for my insulin, until the medicine kicks in. When I would not stop crying, he dashed outside at me from his patient's mouth and pulled off his belt in a rage promising to spank me for crying. I don't know whether he was bluffing or not, but I took him seriously and my crying reduced to sniffling. When the dentist knew that the anesthetic had kicked-in, he then called the patient back inside for extraction. Whatever condition one's tooth was in, extraction seemed to the only solution in those days. Mama lost most of her good tooth that way; tooth that simply had a hole that needed to be cleaned by the dentist then impact with new fillings from the dentist. Most people usually go the dentist with an unbearable toothache, after they had tried most painkillers, and asked for extraction, and that was the end of it. The dentist usually gave Mama a tea bag to bite on, after extraction and told her to soak her mouth with salt water until the bleeding stopped. My father on the other hand, never goes to the dentist. Whenever his tooth have a hole in it, he would grind some painkillers such as Phensic, Caffenol or Bufferin, we did not have Tylenol in those days, then stuff the tooth with the cavity with the powdered painkiller. We were forever going to the shop to get painkillers for him. He would eat on one side of his mouth until the tooth was weak, then he just yanked them out himself. Blossom said a toothache is the only pain in the body that can actually makes one go mad.