Hypoglycemia

The Good Life with Eli F.J. Tajanlangit

The big word for the week is “hypoglycemia”, which tumbled out of the Senate impeachment hearings along with the word “walk-out” last Tuesday. While “walk-out” was no doubt more dramatic and grave, it was “hypoglycemia” that sent people to their dictionaries and search engines.

It was the medical condition that Chief Justice Renato Corona claimed to have suffered from to explain the brash actuation with which he ended his three-hour monologue/oration/declamation in his defense. It is, to my mind, a word that might just incriminate him, if not in the Senate, then in the public’s mind.

You see, for a diabetic like me who has had hypoglycemic episodes, Corona’s actions last Tuesday did not quite match what it is like to go through that harrowing condition. Maybe, each of us reacts to low blood sugar – which is basically what that high-fallutin word means – differently.

But I cannot see how one who’s in the middle of a hypo attack could walk, ramrod-straight, like Corona did towards the secret byways of the Senate building. I cannot understand how he can still recognize the Senate sergeant-at-arms, much less ask, “Am I under arrest?” if his sugar had dipped low.

The first time I had a hypo attack, I ran to the ice-cream counter and demanded to buy immediately so I can have sugar because I already felt all my energy leaving me, like air out of a balloon, as the minutes ticked away and only sugar could arrest it. In fact, so urgent had I felt the need for sugar that when the scooper did not seem to want to serve one away, I nearly reached for her neck to wring it.

Yes, it does bring about a temporary madness, a gasping for breath and life, and in extreme cases, violence. It also throws your mood off, and could turn one into an uncontrollable animal.

In another of these hypo episodes, I had thought it was a nice excuse to eat all the chocolate cake I want. So, instead of taking sugar right away when I started feeling the symptoms, I asked somebody to buy my favorite chocolate cake; I had planned to wait for it. In under five minutes, I started feeling so weak, I ran to the refrigerator, wobbling knees and all, and attacked a plate of cold pasta with my bare hands, like a rabid dog. Really.

It is a condition that cannot really be hidden, and you only have a window of a few minutes before you turn irrational. I have learned to feel for the symptoms and one of the steps I take is to flee from public before I start screaming at anyone or anything. It isn’t a pretty condition. I know of people who hit everyone in their way; or throw everything they could. Somebody I know who was rushed to the emergency room was mistaken for a drug addict, until the doctors realized he was diabetic.

Which leads us to questions about what we saw at the Senate Tuesday. Aside from the uniqueness of Corona’s outward symptoms – he seemed so subdued for somebody suffering from hypoglycemia – there was also no mention what carbs were given to him to arrest the dip in his blood sugar. Somebody wrote they fed him a muffin and a glass of juice to stabilize his sugar. Given his large frame, I have doubts if that is enough to arrest the decline of his sugar or to raise it back to normal levels.

Also, I cannot understand why Corona, who’s been diabetic for 20 years, did not prepare for his condition the way he prepared for his testimony. Given his resources, one would think somebody would have taken his blood sugar before his appearance, made sure he took his meals on time, and even put glucose tablets in his pockets so he can pop them in anytime, just in case.

Unlike Corona, most diabetics I know, myself included, do everything we can to avoid going hypo in public as it is really an embarrassing spectacle. Why he allowed himself to, is really such a wonder. After all, all it really needed was two or three glucose tablets. Or simply, a bottle of soda.*

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