A Contemplation on Mortality

This blog goes into heavy, sensitive topics such as trauma and death. Please read with caution if these topics are delicate to you.

Saying Goodbye

They say as time goes by, after a loved one passes away, you learn to only remember the good times. Not the times of that loved one nearing death. I wish I had this optimistic perspective. Years have gone by, and I cherish the close memories I had with my grandfather, but I’ll never forget the pain.

Kneeling next to his bed, praying and whispering into his ear as his body stopped breathing and turned cold, I will live my life to make you proud.

Nobody tells you the truth about dying from cancer. We all want to mask the reality. The cancer doesn’t directly kill you. It’s the cancer stopping your will to eat. Slow starvation, dehydration, blood clots from lack of movement. The mind withers piece by piece until you stop moving entirely. Entering into a coma… he just became a machine. Breathe in. Breathe out. For two days straight. I still remember the noise at night as I attempted to sleep on the floor. My grandmother and my love taking the beds. We all had sleepless nights listening to what was once our hero, now whittled down to a repetitive respiratory apparatus.

A misdiagnosed Type-2 Diabetes consensus disguised the real problem for months. By the time the doctors discovered it was really pancreatic cancer, it was too late. Although my grandfather was 86-years-old, and many would say how lucky he is to live as long as he did (which is true), he was in great shape, going to the gym four times a week and golfing nearly every other day. Besides myself (of course, which I learned from him), he was the most active member of the family. If he never got this pancreatic cancer… if they weren’t so quick to write off his high blood sugars as Type-2 Diabetes because it matched the statistics of his age instead of looking at the individual– realizing his symptoms could actually be a tumor pressing against his pancreas disrupting insulin production– then maybe he’d live longer enough to meet his first greatgrandchild who was only born one week after he died. Lord knows he tried with all of his might to hang on.

He was my role model. My fishing partner. My western movie watching buddy. We have an endless amount of good memories. I’d sleep over once every few weeks even as an adult. I still do with my grandmother. I love being a kid. I love being with them. I am who I am because of my grandfather, and I am on a mission to pursue greatness in his name. However, these dark memories still linger in my mind. I held him while he was weak because I was one of the only few people he trusted to do so. I’ve seen him so strong as a person hitting a perfectly straight golf shot. I’ve helped him on and off the toilet when he was too weak to stand and pissing out blood.

I can’t take back the good and the bad. I can’t forget the good and the bad. The good comes with the bad, and the bad comes with the good.

My grandmother, grandfather, and childhood dog.

Perhaps the three largest influences of my childhood.

The Marathon Idea

Through this, I learned that the rest of life does not stop just because you have Type-1 Diabetes. T1D can be tough at times, and so can many other things. Shit continues to happen. While taking care of my grandfather, I autonomically controlled my blood glucose. I can’t explain how this happened, but it did.

Five months later, when all of the bad still haunted me at night—I would wake up screaming from nightmares— I found myself at a crossroads in my life. My yearly mountain trip was canceled in the springtime so I could take care of him. My heart and my mind were broken. I felt as though I needed to do something great… just as I promised my grandfather I’d do.

It was an idea. Run a marathon. This year. It was already September. At this point, I’ve never run more than 10-miles at once. With a few clicks and an online payment… boom, I was signed up for the 2023 Baystate Marathon, which was a little less than four weeks away. We make decisions to accomplish greatness while we are sitting comfortably in society. What did I sign myself up for?

Wondering if I could really accomplish this, I stood up in the middle of a work day, I walked outside, I tanked some sugar, and I ran 13.1-miles to see if I could. I did. If I could run half off of a whim, I could double that.

Granted, at this time, I was an endurance athlete used to long days on trails and running an average 20-30-miles per week. All I needed to do was turn up the notch a little. I was in shape to attempt a marathon, but up until this moment, I had not specifically set out to accomplish one. Until now. This four-week process became my new goal.

Discussing with my healthcare team, we came up with an electrolyte concoction that I could drink throughout my runs. After amping up my mileage per week, I discovered at which miles my blood sugar would go up (in the beginning when I ate fuel), and at which miles my blood sugar would drop enough for me to want to refuel (typically between miles 3-5, 10-12, 18-20).

During my training, I ran loops and out & backs that’d allow me to leave my water and electrolyte drinks in a spot where I can return halfway through to tank up. Because this Baystate Marathon was a loop course, my love and I devised a plan at which checkpoints she could easily get to with my specially made concoction and other sugars to refuel throughout race day. Because I wasn’t focused on speed, I was focused on just completing the 26.2, I didn’t have to run fast enough to put my body into stress mode, meaning that my main concern was blood sugars dropping, not rising.

This newly set goal gave my mind something to think about logistically. To escape the pain, I jumped into pain. I entered the gauntlet.

Battling my body and my mind– 2023 Baystate Marathon

Just Like T1D, Pain Does Not Discriminate

Two weeks before the marathon, I tested out how 20-miles would feel. I was in the Berkshires running riverside on a beautiful early autumn evening. I paused for a moment to stare at the sun setting over one of my favorite mountains. There was a calmness in the air that I appreciated just for the moment… I didn’t know in that moment that this feeling would not last for long.

The following day, my love and I were shopping in Great Barrington. We received a phone call of concern to go check in on her grandfather. When we arrived at his house, we saw him sitting in the kitchen from the window… motionless.

We entered to find her grandfather cold. Still. Another death. I remember acknowledging how yellow his body was. A man who used to always be on the move… now lifeless. The entire scene stagnant. Pieces of his life were laid about as if we took a snapshot of an average day, paused it, and held onto it. An open lunch box on the counter. A newspaper on the table. The floor mat on the ground in front of the shower. Him sitting perfectly still without a shirt on. He must’ve been going through his daily routines when his heart decided to go into cardiac arrest. 84-years-old. For some reason, this is starting to feel young. For me… another dead body of a person that was alive not too long ago.

The only blessing of that day was a statement from the police officer, “Seems like he didn’t suffer at least. If there was a way to go, this would be it.” Although for my love’s family, these words were too much to bear at the time, I found comfort in what he said. Visions of my decaying grandfather flashed in my eyes. I honed in on the word suffer.

The conclusion was that my love’s grandfather passed away the night before, around sunset. Roughly the same time I paused during my run to appreciate the scenery. Perhaps I sensed his soul leaving this world.

The day after this death, I decided to stop drinking alcohol for good.

Neither my grandfather nor my love’s grandfather were big drinkers. And they made it into their 80s. Neither of them had T1D fighting against their goal for longevity… I do. This moment changed my thinking in respect to routines that I could start doing to improve my overall health.

I would not be able to attempt anything that I try for without the support of my love, Katerina.

She is my better half and my rock. I am nothing without her.

One Thing On Top of Another

Unfortunately, as the marathon grew nearer, things did not get better. One week later, we held the funeral for the second lost grandfather (and third lost grandparent) within the year. I was getting all too used to funeral attire. The concept of mortality fresh in my head.

Again, Type-1 Diabetes does not stop when the rest of life gets difficult. If I did not continue to manage my condition, everyone would soon be nicely dressed in black for me.

Through this immense amount of stress, along with my continued short marathon training, you can imagine that my blood sugar management was not at its best. It was good. I had a lot to worry about. It wasn’t at its best.

I remember at the funeral reception for my love’s grandfather that my blood sugar was a little higher than I wanted it to be. It wasn’t immensely high, but for some reason I was not satisfied with it. I believe I was between 160-180mg/dL. During this time period, I was also reading a book about insulin management. I recently learned how injecting into a muscle would allow for faster absorption, bringing down your glucose quicker. For some reason, at the time, I saw this as a good thing and did not know the consequences associated.

Wanting to give a correction factor in my suit and tight dresswear, I rolled up my sleeve to inject into my forearm. For some reason, at the time, I thought this was a good idea. My sleeve didn’t roll back far enough due to the cuffs around my wrists. I didn’t pay attention to this, and by the time I realized that I may have injected insulin straight into a vein… it was too late.

I took one step to my left and nearly collapsed. My soul left my body, and I could see my next motions as if I were standing directly behind myself. Panic ran through every inch of me. I was losing control of consciousness, alone in a room, and I needed to let someone know that I was dying… or at least felt like it. This experience was worse than any of my lowest lows. Insulin that hit instantly.

From my birds-eye vantage point, I saw my body making its way into the room of crowded grievers. I zoned in on my love’s face. As soon as I saw her face, my birds-eye view jumped back into my eye-sockets. I locked in on her face as she knew something was drastically wrong. She later told me that I was as pale as a ghost. I felt as if I were in a dream. Approaching her but never reaching her. She just got further and further away. Panic in her eyes reflecting the utter fear in mine.

This all happened so fast. Next thing I know was that I was outside sitting in a chair eating a banana. My CGM indicated that my blood sugar remained flat. It did not rise nor fall for several hours even after the banana intake. The professionals on the phone suggested that the drop in blood sugar happened too fast for the CGM to pick it up. Luckily, I was able to rebalance my blood sugar relatively quickly with the panic of getting help and eating that banana. The healthcare professionals on the phone stated that I’d be okay, but this was not a good idea for my heart and cardiovascular system to inject into a vein again anytime soon. Because I was young, I’d be fine. If I were older, it could have led to an instant heart attack.

I broke down. I lost it. This year was all too much. One week away from my marathon, and I nearly accidentally killed myself.

Pushing Through 26.2

Any reasonable person may have considered not doing the marathon with the little training time and the amount of stress placed on both my body and my mind. I don’t know if I’m a reasonable person or not. Perhaps my crazy drive is just faulty wiring in my brain. Perhaps it was my grandfather—my best friend—pushing me from the other side. I know he wants to see me become the best version of myself possible.

Through this time period, my faith grew stronger. Not in an up arrow, yet more so in fluctuations. I needed to believe that there was an other side. That God and Christ truly exist. I kept trying to search for my grandfather in the air. At times I couldn’t feel him. If his soul, his entity, his mind no longer exists, then I questioned what the purpose of this life truly is.

A picture with former Bruins player, Zdeno Chara

The biggest smile I had in months was while posing for a picture with Zdeno Chara at the starting line of the Baystate Marathon. Hundreds of people with me ready to conquer their own minds. I could only imagine, if I went through what I did, what all these other people went through to get to this point. Ready for a marathon. This scene was powerful.

My blood sugar shot straight up before the race, both due to my sugar intake and my insane amount of adrenaline. By Mile-5, my blood sugar stabilized. I met my love on Mile-10 to refuel at the perfect position. I saw her again at Mile-20 to refuel one more time before the final 6.2-mile push to the finish line. I’d like to say that Type-1 Diabetes was on my mind during this whole race, but it wasn’t. My mind jumped through the horrific memories and my newly developed thesis on mortality. What I experienced was pure trauma stacked on top of each other.

But, the question was How can I become a better person from this?

For starters, the first answer was finishing this marathon. I finished it. My love, her parents, and my parents all congratulated me. It was a huge accomplishment. It was only around noon when all was said and done. I went back to eat a home-cooked steak dinner. I went to bed early. The next day, not much in my life changed.

Change does not happen overnight or due to one instance. Change happens over time. The promise to my grandfather led to change over the next following years. I am still sober. I am working my ass off every day to better myself as a human being. My love will become my wife this year. Through this all, I encounter Type-1 Diabetes every single day.

Even as I train for my next marathon, with aim for speed.

My parents met me at the finish line of the marathon.

In an upcoming podcast episode, we will dive deeper into this story as well as the details of training and the marathon itself.

I hope this helps. Stay strong. Stay determined. T1Determined.

Marathon Thesis