Sometimes at night, when the alarm goes off…I have a mini fit. I thrash my legs and moan like an 8 year old tasked to do the stupidest of chores. I am freakin’ tired. I roll out of bed walking back-bent-arms-hanging, channeling all my anger to the Legos on the floor, wondering when, if ever, I will get a good night’s sleep. Once I get to the boys though, my heart usually softens. Their sweet faces calm my shaking hands and my selfishness turns to concern as I check each boy and assess their situation. But when I get back to my bed, I fall in like a dead body; face first…KERPLAT…on to my pillow. Wondering if I’ll be able to fall back to sleep, angry at the exhaustion that has taken over my body. Sometimes.
But most of the time, I just hop out of bed and check. No biggie. I’m not angry, or tired, or anything. I do the deed and go back to bed. Most of the time it is just a simple correction or a little banana or pudding to get things back to where they need to be. I climb back into bed and fall asleep before my head hits the pillow. Done and done.
Sometimes I question myself. I’ll give the boys breakfast insulin and send them to school wondering if they will be ok today. Because sometimes I don’t do what the pump tells me to do. Sometimes I go rogue. I know that J has track, so I’ll scale back his insulin. I know that B has called me the last few days with higher numbers, so I give him a bit extra. I know that L has needed an extra snack for a week, so I give him less insulin. So I’m guessing. And sometimes when I guess…my entire body fills with worry sand, and I feel like I am 200 pounds heavier. On these days I feel clumsier in both mind and body, and I can’t think straight. And I pretend that I’m not worrying…I tell myself over and over and over that they will be ok. Sometimes.
But most of the time, I give insulin and I don’t worry. We have done this everyday for forever, and everything will be ok. And if it is not ok, then there was nothing more I could do. Most of the time I am at peace with my decisions. I know that my guesses are educated guesses. I live and breathe diabetes. I am not perfect…but I am capable. Most of the time. Done and done.
Sometimes, I’ll look at a pile of bloody test strips on the dresser, (aftermath from a long night,) and I almost throw up a little in my mouth. It is the grizzly reality of our life. Sometimes, there can be 20 test strips lying on the boy’s dresser from the evening before and a couple checks through the night. I pick each one up to throw in the garbage. It hurts my heart as some of them stick to the dresser. Tears come as I wonder if this will always be our reality. Wondering if there will ever be a cure. The image throws me…and validates all my anger towards this disease. I think of their callused fingers and I want to roar like a mother lion that is protecting her young. Sometimes.
But most of the time, I’ll clean up the strips and disinfect the area like I always do and it is the most normal of things. It is not big deal. Test strips are nothing new. Hell…they are EVERYWHERE. Normally the strips go straight to the garbage or in a cup I keep next to their supplies. I am thankful for being able to test. This instrument is fairly new in this world. How blessed am I to know what to do at any time of day just with a poke of the finger? I thank the Lord for that monitor. Most of the time. Done and done.
Sometimes I let my brain go to that dark place. The place where the seriousness of this disease is magnified and made uber clear to every one of my mommy senses. Sometimes, like this week, I hear the stories of children dying in their sleep from Diabetes and I have what I call, “a silent freak out.” I don’t talk about it. I pretend I am not worrying about it. But it is there in my mind. So when something else comes up that is frustrating, I lose it. I lose it over the littlest of things. Not because of the little thing, but because of this secret worry that has burrowed like a mole deep into my head and is planning to hibernate there for the winter. There is this background worry that affects every aspect of my life. It defines me, it puts me on edge. And at these times, I hate diabetes. Sometimes.
But most of the time, I am grateful. I see the blessings right in front of me. They are vibrant, smart, and amazing. They can do anything. Nothing can stop them from achieving their dreams…not even diabetes. I am grateful that they are alive…that they don’t live their lives in a hospital. That diabetes has made them stronger, more empathetic people. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. We are a close, united family partly to do with diabetes. We are blessed daily with technology that makes this disease manageable. We are a family that loves each other, and when it all comes down to it…isn’t that all that is important?
Yes, sometimes I am an emotional wreck. Thankfully, most of the time…I am Ok. That is why I am the Jekyll and Hyde of the blogging world. One minute I am preaching how manageable diabetes is, and that it gets easier, and that newly diagnosed families will adjust to the craziness of it all…and the next minute I am heartbroken…scared and unsure of myself.
I had a friend tell me once I certainly must need therapy with all I have on my plate. That may be so. But I think for now, I won’t take that path simply because “most of the time” I’m still Ok. And the “sometimes” that I am not…well…those times don’t last long. Those sometimes moments are the reality of what this disease dishes out. Diabetes isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I accept that. And I always know that that through the rain clouds the sun is always there. We just need to be patient…the sun will make itself known eventually. Sure, some storms last longer than others. But that is with every aspect of life.
When we were new to this life…when J was just a baby… things were different. The bad times seemed like they were most of the time. And it seems that only sometimes we got a taste of what was “normal.” As time passed…the two switched places. I often tell newly diagnosed families that things will get easier. It sucks that easier doesn’t mean easy…but it does mean life will be better than it is now. So much better that you will feel normal again. You WILL feel alive again.
I get that normalcy most of the time.
And the sometimes that I don't...well, I blog. And it makes me feel better. :)
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Diabetic Ingenuity
My 8 year old B grabbed my hand last night and declared he had fixed a long standing problem in our home.
The pitcher that we use for our Sugar Free Cool-aid/Crystal Light has a rip in the spout. When we pour the drink...often red, or pink...it dribbles down the side of the pitcher and splats onto the counter top. My boys know this annoys me to no end. They are required to use 409 every time they pour a drink to clean away the stain that is left.
Should I get a new pitcher...of course!
But it always seems to evade my shopping list and has just stuck around for the last few months as a thorn in my side.
But back to earlier...B had declared the problem fixed...
He took two new test strips and peeled them apart, which any diabetic kid worth their salt knows this turns the strip into a sticker. He then bandaged up the tear in the pitcher and Ta Dah!!!!!!!!
He was so proud of his smartness!!! But alas...they had to come off. If one of them un-stuck and fell into a drink, and then someone swallowed it, well...not good.
But Bravo anyway! His genius shines! I wonder if Einstein had such ingenuity when he was 8 years old?
The pitcher that we use for our Sugar Free Cool-aid/Crystal Light has a rip in the spout. When we pour the drink...often red, or pink...it dribbles down the side of the pitcher and splats onto the counter top. My boys know this annoys me to no end. They are required to use 409 every time they pour a drink to clean away the stain that is left.
Should I get a new pitcher...of course!
But it always seems to evade my shopping list and has just stuck around for the last few months as a thorn in my side.
But back to earlier...B had declared the problem fixed...
He took two new test strips and peeled them apart, which any diabetic kid worth their salt knows this turns the strip into a sticker. He then bandaged up the tear in the pitcher and Ta Dah!!!!!!!!
He was so proud of his smartness!!! But alas...they had to come off. If one of them un-stuck and fell into a drink, and then someone swallowed it, well...not good.
But Bravo anyway! His genius shines! I wonder if Einstein had such ingenuity when he was 8 years old?
Monday, March 22, 2010
The Ol' Switch-A-Roo
We have three.
Three boys who have Type 1 Diabetes.
Three pumps that deliver insulin.
Three of each.
Each boy has their own color pump. J’s is blue, B’s is purple and L’s is…well Zebra. We got all the boys stickers that go onto their pump to keep ourselves from mixing them up. J and B ripped theirs off within a month…L kept his zebra stripes, and is still very proud of them. Needless to say, we never mix up L’s pump with anyone else. L is the Zebra…my other boys wouldn’t be caught dead with zebra stripes.
But the blue and the purple…well, they are not as simple.
It’s a dark purple. For sure not blue, but not obviously bright or anything, and when you are doing set changes in the middle of the night, they look almost identical.
(You already know where I am going with this…right?)
So the other night it happened. Ryan set up the pumps, refilled with insulin and put them on the respective boys. And when I went to calibrate J’s new CGM with his pump, I was horrified to find that it wasn’t working. There was nothing there that indicated that the CGM was communicating with the pump. Even worse, when I went into J’s system to “find sensor” it didn’t show that the sensor feature was even on! What happened? Do we have to redo all of the settings every time we change a set?? It was like the twilight zone! A bad dream, that was real! Ryan and I puzzled for awhile. I was gobsmacked! How in the freakin’ world could this have happened??
It took awhile for us to figure out that Ryan had put B’s pump on J. Too long if you ask me. In hindsight I feel like what my hubby and I call a DOPUS. It’s kinda a mix of Dope and ignoramus. It was a real wake- up call because A) J gets twice the insulin B does (Hello scary, B’s blood sugar would have dropped like a brick in no time!!) and B) B get’s half the insulin of J. (Hello scary, J would have had so little insulin, his numbers would have been THROUGH THE ROOF in the morning!!)
No, it’s not the first time it’s happened. After bath and showers, they have put the wrong ones on themselves. It’s not completely problematic because it happens very rarely.
But it only takes ONCE to make a mess of things.
ONE TIME.
I think that is one of the greatest arguments of why diabetes sucks so much. There isn’t leverage for forgetfulness. You can’t afford to “forget” to bolus after a meal. You can’t afford to “forget” to check blood sugars. You can’t afford to “forget” to correct a high blood sugar. You can’t “forget” that J wears the blue pump and B wears the purple one!
No forgetting allowed!
EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!
That is why our brains are running a mile a minute, all the time, 24/7.
And that is why when we don’t have a diabetic child with you, your brain jumps into some kind of tailspin of emotions wondering where all the thinking has gone. Guilt for not thinking about it. Confusion as to why you stopped thinking about it.
Our brain gets tripped up going from 100 miles an hour to 0 miles an hour.
Hard to relax when you don’t HAVE to think about diabetes. But really, when do we NOT get to think about it?? Even when the boys are at school, they are calling me with their numbers and carb amounts, alerting me to any extra exercise and such. When they are not with me, I am worrying…I am THINKING ABOUT IT!!!
The only time my brain really gets a break, and no it isn’t at night when normal people sleep…HECK NO! It is when I go out on a date with my hubby, and my sister in law babysits.
She knows what to do. I TRUST her. I can honestly throw the kids out of the car and know they are safe and their diabetes is handled.
It is a gift. The gift to forget.
My husband and I didn’t get to go out this weekend. Trust me, my brain feels it. When you run at a 100 miles an hour for such a long stretch, your brain runs out of fluid, and it still continues to run even though smoke is coming out of your ears and the cogs are screeching so loud you just might think you are going to explode.
Sometimes I wish I could pull the ol’ switch-a-roo with someone else’s brain.
“OPPS! I accidentally grabbed your brain by mistake; I’ll give it back to you on Wednesday…”
Because the thing is, I am more than a pancreas. I am human, and I have normal everyday human things to worry about too. As parents of diabetics, we can just as easily overload on diabetes, as we can on every other aspect of life. And when the two or more of your cogs overload at the same time…well…I guess you get a blog post that ends abruptly and looks a lot like this one.
Three boys who have Type 1 Diabetes.
Three pumps that deliver insulin.
Three of each.
Each boy has their own color pump. J’s is blue, B’s is purple and L’s is…well Zebra. We got all the boys stickers that go onto their pump to keep ourselves from mixing them up. J and B ripped theirs off within a month…L kept his zebra stripes, and is still very proud of them. Needless to say, we never mix up L’s pump with anyone else. L is the Zebra…my other boys wouldn’t be caught dead with zebra stripes.
But the blue and the purple…well, they are not as simple.
It’s a dark purple. For sure not blue, but not obviously bright or anything, and when you are doing set changes in the middle of the night, they look almost identical.
(You already know where I am going with this…right?)
So the other night it happened. Ryan set up the pumps, refilled with insulin and put them on the respective boys. And when I went to calibrate J’s new CGM with his pump, I was horrified to find that it wasn’t working. There was nothing there that indicated that the CGM was communicating with the pump. Even worse, when I went into J’s system to “find sensor” it didn’t show that the sensor feature was even on! What happened? Do we have to redo all of the settings every time we change a set?? It was like the twilight zone! A bad dream, that was real! Ryan and I puzzled for awhile. I was gobsmacked! How in the freakin’ world could this have happened??
It took awhile for us to figure out that Ryan had put B’s pump on J. Too long if you ask me. In hindsight I feel like what my hubby and I call a DOPUS. It’s kinda a mix of Dope and ignoramus. It was a real wake- up call because A) J gets twice the insulin B does (Hello scary, B’s blood sugar would have dropped like a brick in no time!!) and B) B get’s half the insulin of J. (Hello scary, J would have had so little insulin, his numbers would have been THROUGH THE ROOF in the morning!!)
No, it’s not the first time it’s happened. After bath and showers, they have put the wrong ones on themselves. It’s not completely problematic because it happens very rarely.
But it only takes ONCE to make a mess of things.
ONE TIME.
I think that is one of the greatest arguments of why diabetes sucks so much. There isn’t leverage for forgetfulness. You can’t afford to “forget” to bolus after a meal. You can’t afford to “forget” to check blood sugars. You can’t afford to “forget” to correct a high blood sugar. You can’t “forget” that J wears the blue pump and B wears the purple one!
No forgetting allowed!
EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!
That is why our brains are running a mile a minute, all the time, 24/7.
And that is why when we don’t have a diabetic child with you, your brain jumps into some kind of tailspin of emotions wondering where all the thinking has gone. Guilt for not thinking about it. Confusion as to why you stopped thinking about it.
Our brain gets tripped up going from 100 miles an hour to 0 miles an hour.
Hard to relax when you don’t HAVE to think about diabetes. But really, when do we NOT get to think about it?? Even when the boys are at school, they are calling me with their numbers and carb amounts, alerting me to any extra exercise and such. When they are not with me, I am worrying…I am THINKING ABOUT IT!!!
The only time my brain really gets a break, and no it isn’t at night when normal people sleep…HECK NO! It is when I go out on a date with my hubby, and my sister in law babysits.
She knows what to do. I TRUST her. I can honestly throw the kids out of the car and know they are safe and their diabetes is handled.
It is a gift. The gift to forget.
My husband and I didn’t get to go out this weekend. Trust me, my brain feels it. When you run at a 100 miles an hour for such a long stretch, your brain runs out of fluid, and it still continues to run even though smoke is coming out of your ears and the cogs are screeching so loud you just might think you are going to explode.
Sometimes I wish I could pull the ol’ switch-a-roo with someone else’s brain.
“OPPS! I accidentally grabbed your brain by mistake; I’ll give it back to you on Wednesday…”
Because the thing is, I am more than a pancreas. I am human, and I have normal everyday human things to worry about too. As parents of diabetics, we can just as easily overload on diabetes, as we can on every other aspect of life. And when the two or more of your cogs overload at the same time…well…I guess you get a blog post that ends abruptly and looks a lot like this one.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Second Verse, Same as the First. :)
It must be our lucky weekend, because I have another shiny new D Mom blogger to introduce to you all! Her name is April and her family actually resides here in my hometown! WOO HOO!
Her son "T" was diagnosed just last month, a week before his 13th birthday.
Won't you all show her some good neighbor hospitality and stop by her brand new blog to say hello?
You can find her at
http://thediabeteslearningcurve.blogspot.com/
Welcome April!!
Her son "T" was diagnosed just last month, a week before his 13th birthday.
Won't you all show her some good neighbor hospitality and stop by her brand new blog to say hello?
You can find her at
http://thediabeteslearningcurve.blogspot.com/
Welcome April!!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
A New Extra Sweet Friend :)
Please pop over and say hello to our new friend on the block, Amanda!
Her 5 year old daughter Emma was diagnosed last year THE DAY AFTER Amanda had her third child! Emma also has celiac.
Her blog is at
http://extrasweetgirl.blogspot.com/
Welcome Amanda! We are happy when a new D Mom blogs, we know how much it helps our hearts...we hope it is balm for yours!
Her 5 year old daughter Emma was diagnosed last year THE DAY AFTER Amanda had her third child! Emma also has celiac.
Her blog is at
http://extrasweetgirl.blogspot.com/
Welcome Amanda! We are happy when a new D Mom blogs, we know how much it helps our hearts...we hope it is balm for yours!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
My swelling/hurty brain
Last night I wanted to throw my brain under a bus. No kidding, I was peering out the window hoping for the freak chance a bus would drive by. I wasn’t picky on the type of bus…any ol bus would have done…and once I saw it I would have tossed my swelling/hurty brain right out the window under its big fat wheels.
Dramatic much?
Before you go worrying about me, I did recover. Nothing a bit of chocolate and a new episode of Lost couldn’t fix.
But I digress. I suppose I should start from the beginning. The beginning that begins with the CGM trainer coming to our house to train us. (I LOVE how stupid that last sentence was!)
YES!! We have received our very own shiny BE-A-U-TIFUL Continuous Glucose Monitor. Hooray!!
We got it a couple weeks ago, but I didn’t put it on J right away. I wasn’t overly impressed with the trial we had last month. The Continuous Glucose numbers were not even close to his actual Blood Glucose numbers. I was all kinds of hesitant after the trial, but decided that a CGM was better than no CGM. And if nothing else, it could spot the trends of his days.
Well this trainer woman quelled all of my CGM fears. She swooped in yesterday and literally saved the day. She was amazing! She was truthful! She showed me how to work with it correctly…and I am NOT exaggerating when I say his Blood Glucose readings and his Continuous Glucose readings have been literally, like one point off from each other since we were up and running yesterday. For example, this morning it said he was 112. His blood sugar reading was 111.
HOLLA!
I’m trying not to get my hopes up…but whatever…I probably will anyway, because that is how I roll.
You’re probably reading this and wondering…”Meri, why would all of this greatness make you want to throw your brain under a bus???” And I would reply…”Keep reading friend, keep reading.”
So before our trainer left, she mentioned the fact that we can download the boys pump information online, as well as the information received by J’s new CGM. We just needed to buy this expensive receiver called a “CareLink.”
I went to my diabetes closet, because yes, we require a closet for our supplies, and fished out a CareLink receiver that was sent to us free at least a year ago. Our trainer was thrilled! “Set it up, and you will be getting J’s basals into shape in no time!” SO since she was so enthusiastic about it, and since our nurse at the Endo has been begging me to get this set up for a good year now…I decided to bite the bullet and set it up.
(This is the part where my brain swells.)
So right away I had issues getting started. So I called Minimed and after holding for a good 40 minutes I got this INCREDIBLY nice man who was willing to spend hours with me getting this set up. It took awhile, but mission accomplished. All three pumps were set up online and all the information inside them from the last three months was there before me in graph, chart, list and every other informational form you can imagine.
And the charts I saw from the last few weeks were BRAIN BOGGLING! It gave a percentage of all the blood sugars that were in range, and all that were not. And it wasn’t pretty. Page after page of numbers and information!!!
Enough information to put a woman who lives on the edge…over said edge.
Let me tell you, sometimes too much information is a bad thing. A really bad thing.
Some of you reading this may think you really would like to know that information because…
“LALALALALALALALALA” (fingers in my ears I am not listening you!) BECAUSE, trust me…you do not want to know!
I was so horrified, I had all the boys come to me one by one and I upped all of their basal rates for every time of day, except when they were at school. (Which resulted in B and L going low last night, which thankfully Lawton awoke me for.)
So after I changed everyone’s pump settings my husband could see the muscle spasm above my right eye, so he went out to get some chocolate to calm my brain. (He is a good man…but when he was teasing me late into the night I threatened to expose his evil ways on my blog. I told him everyone thinks he’s wonderful…I could change that in an instant! He wasn’t afraid. He knows I adore him. But it was fun threatening him with blogger blackmail anyway.)
By this morning though, I have been able to completly process all the imformation that my brain indulged in last night, and now I am feeling better. Today is a NEW day!! Onward and upward!
So here is, the end of my post. I just read the entire thing back to myself and realize I sound a little mad, like Johnny Depp Mad Hatter Mad…but I’m ok with that…because A) I think when it comes down to it, we’re all a little crazy, and B) Who wouldn’t want to be put in the same column as Johnny Depp?
Dramatic much?
Before you go worrying about me, I did recover. Nothing a bit of chocolate and a new episode of Lost couldn’t fix.
But I digress. I suppose I should start from the beginning. The beginning that begins with the CGM trainer coming to our house to train us. (I LOVE how stupid that last sentence was!)
YES!! We have received our very own shiny BE-A-U-TIFUL Continuous Glucose Monitor. Hooray!!
We got it a couple weeks ago, but I didn’t put it on J right away. I wasn’t overly impressed with the trial we had last month. The Continuous Glucose numbers were not even close to his actual Blood Glucose numbers. I was all kinds of hesitant after the trial, but decided that a CGM was better than no CGM. And if nothing else, it could spot the trends of his days.
Well this trainer woman quelled all of my CGM fears. She swooped in yesterday and literally saved the day. She was amazing! She was truthful! She showed me how to work with it correctly…and I am NOT exaggerating when I say his Blood Glucose readings and his Continuous Glucose readings have been literally, like one point off from each other since we were up and running yesterday. For example, this morning it said he was 112. His blood sugar reading was 111.
HOLLA!
I’m trying not to get my hopes up…but whatever…I probably will anyway, because that is how I roll.
You’re probably reading this and wondering…”Meri, why would all of this greatness make you want to throw your brain under a bus???” And I would reply…”Keep reading friend, keep reading.”
So before our trainer left, she mentioned the fact that we can download the boys pump information online, as well as the information received by J’s new CGM. We just needed to buy this expensive receiver called a “CareLink.”
I went to my diabetes closet, because yes, we require a closet for our supplies, and fished out a CareLink receiver that was sent to us free at least a year ago. Our trainer was thrilled! “Set it up, and you will be getting J’s basals into shape in no time!” SO since she was so enthusiastic about it, and since our nurse at the Endo has been begging me to get this set up for a good year now…I decided to bite the bullet and set it up.
(This is the part where my brain swells.)
So right away I had issues getting started. So I called Minimed and after holding for a good 40 minutes I got this INCREDIBLY nice man who was willing to spend hours with me getting this set up. It took awhile, but mission accomplished. All three pumps were set up online and all the information inside them from the last three months was there before me in graph, chart, list and every other informational form you can imagine.
And the charts I saw from the last few weeks were BRAIN BOGGLING! It gave a percentage of all the blood sugars that were in range, and all that were not. And it wasn’t pretty. Page after page of numbers and information!!!
Enough information to put a woman who lives on the edge…over said edge.
Let me tell you, sometimes too much information is a bad thing. A really bad thing.
Some of you reading this may think you really would like to know that information because…
“LALALALALALALALALA” (fingers in my ears I am not listening you!) BECAUSE, trust me…you do not want to know!
I was so horrified, I had all the boys come to me one by one and I upped all of their basal rates for every time of day, except when they were at school. (Which resulted in B and L going low last night, which thankfully Lawton awoke me for.)
So after I changed everyone’s pump settings my husband could see the muscle spasm above my right eye, so he went out to get some chocolate to calm my brain. (He is a good man…but when he was teasing me late into the night I threatened to expose his evil ways on my blog. I told him everyone thinks he’s wonderful…I could change that in an instant! He wasn’t afraid. He knows I adore him. But it was fun threatening him with blogger blackmail anyway.)
By this morning though, I have been able to completly process all the imformation that my brain indulged in last night, and now I am feeling better. Today is a NEW day!! Onward and upward!
So here is, the end of my post. I just read the entire thing back to myself and realize I sound a little mad, like Johnny Depp Mad Hatter Mad…but I’m ok with that…because A) I think when it comes down to it, we’re all a little crazy, and B) Who wouldn’t want to be put in the same column as Johnny Depp?
Monday, March 15, 2010
My friend has lost her marbles!
My friend has lost her marbles
Won’t you take the time to look?
My friend has lost her marbles
It happened when her world was shook.
The rocking of her brain caused them to roll around,
And when she needed them the most, they were nowhere to be found.
Because they are smooth orbs, marbles can be tricky to keep in check,
They roll around your life and slip away when you’re a wreck.
She has looked in the shower where she cries from time to time,
And searched fervently in her bed where worries rock her mind.
She looked in the car where she’s always in a rush.
She even searched in places that would make a momma blush.
She tried by the scale where she weighs all of her son’s food,
(Because calculating carbs always puts her in a mood.)
She looked by the blood sugar monitor and the Ketone strips,
But when the buggers were not there, curse words crossed her lips.
Under her son’s mattress where she kneels to check each night,
There wasn’t a marble there, not a one in sight.
In a last ditch attempt she checked the Frigidaire,
It’s where she keeps the insulin, but alas they were not there.
It’s no fun to lose your marbles, trust me friends I know,
For I have lost my marbles, twas many years ago.
It hasn’t been easy to make it through without,
Living a life of worry and fear can fill your mind with doubt.
How can I survive without my marbles dear?
How can I make it through the trials of the year?
After many years of wondering it has finally come to me,
There is a way to cope, a way that sets my worries free.
What is the secret of filling up my mind?
It is putting love in the spaces the marbles left behind.
Love and understanding from those who walk along,
Fill those empty spaces and I don’t even know their gone.
So for my friend who lost her marbles, no worries! Be of good cheer!
I’m here for you always, and happy to lend an ear.
And really, marbles are overrated; their swirls aren’t so renowned,
They’ll never hold a candle to the marble-less friends that I have found!
(For my friend Lora...one of my favorite marble-less peeps. :)
Monday, March 8, 2010
Fun Fundraising, it's worth a try!
I love our dog. He is amazing. ‘Nuff said.
So why wouldn’t I try to raise money so that Dogs4Diabetics could help more people? I didn’t have to pay for Lawton. He was given to us free of charge. I feel some responsibility to share the love.
Last week we had our annual school fundraiser for Dogs4Diabetics at the boys’ elementary school. All the kids were asked to bring in one dollar sometime during the week, and if they did, they could wear their favorite hat to school all day on Friday. As I alluded to in my last post, I spent most of last week in classrooms giving presentations and answering questions about our dog, and about diabetes.
You wouldn’t believe some of the great, thoughtful questions that came from these children’s mouths.
Example: “If your boys forgot to give themselves insulin, they must have a lot of sugar staying in their bodies. How do they feel when this happens? “
You also wouldn’t believe some of the crazy, not so well thought out questions that came from these children’s mouths.
Example: “What would happen if Lawton would die, right here, right now. Would your boys die too?”
Over the past few years, I’ve learned that if I visit a class, and talk with them about what we are raising money for, the class will participate on a MUCH greater scale then those I do not speak to.
So this year I spoke to almost every class.
It was a HUGE success…an entire school of children wearing Disney hats, baseball hats, summer hats, construction hats…
And we raised….
DUM DA DUMMMMMMM!!
$1000.00
NICE!
This is a great fundraiser for your walk team too! Before we got Lawton we had the caps day, but instead it was, “Caps4aCure.” It is really easy to put together. A flyer in the school newsletter. A little spiel at the kid’s assembly. Envelopes with class lists attached, so the teachers can check off who brings in their dollar. Maybe a few classroom presentations. Kids wear their hats….BAM! Done.
(Our family makes dog bone shaped cookies for all the classes that have over 80% participation.)
Kids CAN make a difference. It is empowering. I hear stories every year of kids wanting to use their own dollar, or kids who ask their parents how they can earn more money to donate. The whole experience is so positive for everyone!
Give it a shot!
So why wouldn’t I try to raise money so that Dogs4Diabetics could help more people? I didn’t have to pay for Lawton. He was given to us free of charge. I feel some responsibility to share the love.
Last week we had our annual school fundraiser for Dogs4Diabetics at the boys’ elementary school. All the kids were asked to bring in one dollar sometime during the week, and if they did, they could wear their favorite hat to school all day on Friday. As I alluded to in my last post, I spent most of last week in classrooms giving presentations and answering questions about our dog, and about diabetes.
You wouldn’t believe some of the great, thoughtful questions that came from these children’s mouths.
Example: “If your boys forgot to give themselves insulin, they must have a lot of sugar staying in their bodies. How do they feel when this happens? “
You also wouldn’t believe some of the crazy, not so well thought out questions that came from these children’s mouths.
Example: “What would happen if Lawton would die, right here, right now. Would your boys die too?”
Over the past few years, I’ve learned that if I visit a class, and talk with them about what we are raising money for, the class will participate on a MUCH greater scale then those I do not speak to.
So this year I spoke to almost every class.
It was a HUGE success…an entire school of children wearing Disney hats, baseball hats, summer hats, construction hats…
And we raised….
DUM DA DUMMMMMMM!!
$1000.00
NICE!
This is a great fundraiser for your walk team too! Before we got Lawton we had the caps day, but instead it was, “Caps4aCure.” It is really easy to put together. A flyer in the school newsletter. A little spiel at the kid’s assembly. Envelopes with class lists attached, so the teachers can check off who brings in their dollar. Maybe a few classroom presentations. Kids wear their hats….BAM! Done.
(Our family makes dog bone shaped cookies for all the classes that have over 80% participation.)
Kids CAN make a difference. It is empowering. I hear stories every year of kids wanting to use their own dollar, or kids who ask their parents how they can earn more money to donate. The whole experience is so positive for everyone!
Give it a shot!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Trying to find my auto pilot switch...
I’ve spent the last 4 days talking to classes at the boys’ school about diabetes and service dogs. I had my spiel down pat. I aced the “what is diabetes” lessons for the older kids, and scored when it came to “service dog etiquette” for the younger kids. But in true form…I am completely overwhelmed as I sit here with my thoughts. Speeches about our immune system and information about the body’s ability to make insulin are dancing in my head.
Diabetes overload.
Questions. Sweet beautiful questions from students and teachers who want to know more. Everything we have ever dreamed of. A captive audience who has questions!
Questions I have been waiting for people to ask. But at the same time, questions that have answers I don’t want to think about anymore.
Why?
How?
When?
Will?
What if?
I am overwhelmed friends. I’ve come home from a long day of lectures and I’ve had enough of diabetes. I don’t like thinking this hard about things.
I like to LIVE. Not obsess. And when your mind is stuck skipping like a broken record, diabetes is…diabetes is…diabetes is…You can understand that I just haven’t had it in me to blog.
Which brings me to my next subject. I have been SUCH a downer lately; I just want to slap myself. I know we all need to “lose it” sometimes…but that is not the person I want to be. I want to be positive about things; I want to look at the bright side.
And I do.
I’m just…
Overloaded right now.
So I guess I have to be careful for what I wish for. Because right now I have a school full of teachers and students that have a small idea of what my world is about. And they are feeling for me. And the weight of their knowledge is hanging on my shoulders right now. My life is out there. Explaining our life in simple terms seemed harmless enough…except for the fact that my brain is going to explode.
I need to reboot. I need to trash all the garbage that is going through my head and move on to LIVING again.
Where the hell is my auto-pilot switch????
I don’t want to consciously think about IT anymore!
Actually, right now…I don’t want to think at all anymore.
I want to go to Hawaii. Or Cabo. Or somewhere warm…and sit on the beach…and sleep…for like a month.
I know. Whiner whiner pants on fire. It is what it is.
I am wondering if some of this overwhelmingness (Yes I realize that is a made up word) is due to the fact that I haven’t blogged in almost a week. I'm hoping that now that I have gotten this all down on virtual paper…I’ll be able to get back to normal. Well, my normal anyway.
Not sure how to end this one. So I’ll just say this…
:p~~~~~~~~~~~to brain explosions.
:o) to weekends.
Diabetes overload.
Questions. Sweet beautiful questions from students and teachers who want to know more. Everything we have ever dreamed of. A captive audience who has questions!
Questions I have been waiting for people to ask. But at the same time, questions that have answers I don’t want to think about anymore.
Why?
How?
When?
Will?
What if?
I am overwhelmed friends. I’ve come home from a long day of lectures and I’ve had enough of diabetes. I don’t like thinking this hard about things.
I like to LIVE. Not obsess. And when your mind is stuck skipping like a broken record, diabetes is…diabetes is…diabetes is…You can understand that I just haven’t had it in me to blog.
Which brings me to my next subject. I have been SUCH a downer lately; I just want to slap myself. I know we all need to “lose it” sometimes…but that is not the person I want to be. I want to be positive about things; I want to look at the bright side.
And I do.
I’m just…
Overloaded right now.
So I guess I have to be careful for what I wish for. Because right now I have a school full of teachers and students that have a small idea of what my world is about. And they are feeling for me. And the weight of their knowledge is hanging on my shoulders right now. My life is out there. Explaining our life in simple terms seemed harmless enough…except for the fact that my brain is going to explode.
I need to reboot. I need to trash all the garbage that is going through my head and move on to LIVING again.
Where the hell is my auto-pilot switch????
I don’t want to consciously think about IT anymore!
Actually, right now…I don’t want to think at all anymore.
I want to go to Hawaii. Or Cabo. Or somewhere warm…and sit on the beach…and sleep…for like a month.
I know. Whiner whiner pants on fire. It is what it is.
I am wondering if some of this overwhelmingness (Yes I realize that is a made up word) is due to the fact that I haven’t blogged in almost a week. I'm hoping that now that I have gotten this all down on virtual paper…I’ll be able to get back to normal. Well, my normal anyway.
Not sure how to end this one. So I’ll just say this…
:p~~~~~~~~~~~to brain explosions.
:o) to weekends.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Pulling the break on the runaway train
A couple days ago I hopped aboard the “Woe Is Me Train” and added fuel to its fire so furiously, the train got completely out of control. It screamed down the tracks of my life, and in true dramatic fashion ran straight through my blog yesterday and then full tilt into my husband’s arms at lunch. You should have seen me barrel towards my husband at the restaurant…crazy hair flying in the wind, blood shot eyes…the only thing I contained were my hands, that a few minutes earlier waved like a Muppet over my head.
My husband, alarmed at the sight, asked me what was wrong.
As I poured out my heart a mile a minute…recounting all the words of my blog yesterday, referring regularly to the post on DiabetesMine, and using the words “High on Freedom” in every other sentence…my husband did what every gentleman would do…
He pulled the emergency break to stop the train and then carefully step by step helped me off until I was on solid ground again.
After listening to my rant, he sat thoughtfully in his seat for a moment before he offered this:
“I think you may have something there,” he said. “But I think that is just a small part of it all…I really think he is just lazy.”
I tried to explain to him that is what all the parents in the comment section thought, but really it was their childs bid for freedom from their diabetic lives. He didn’t totally dismiss it, but he insisted he knew something I didn’t. He insisted J was the mirror image of him when he was that age, and he knew some of what was going on in J’s head.
I value his opinion. I know men think differently than woman. So I let him plead his case.
He presented the facts.
* J checks his sugar every morning and boluses for breakfast on his own. He never forgets.
* We have told J that he only needs to check his sugar once before lunch at school.
For whatever reason, J ignores his snack alarm, and doesn’t test sometimes. (He was determined to get to the bottom of this one.)
* J boluses for his snack every day.
* J calls me after he has eaten his lunch every day and even checks his sugar then when he realizes he forgot to earlier. (Which if course, this number is of no help to me, but it is effort none the less.)
* J always tells me the truth when he doesn’t test. He isn’t lying to us.
* J will check when he feels low. J called us twice in the last two weeks before lunch saying he felt low, checked and had eaten a snack.
* J helps L check his sugar in kindergarten at least 3 times a week. He never complains about this, and always calls us to tell us the number.
* J always brings his monitor on a fieldtrip or the track when they run the mile and never forgets to test there.
In conclusion, he says, J is just not checking sometimes at snack. And after dinner he needs to be reminded to bolus because he has done his homework and usually B lines to the TV or his IPOD.
He insisted on picking up J after school for ice cream and having a talk with him. He was confident he could get to the bottom of it.
And you know what…I think he did.
It turns out his alarms to check before snack go off during Math time. Every day in Math the kids are split up in groups…each group has kids in different levels so the kids who understand the work can tutor the kids who don’t. Jack is a tutor, and when his alarm goes off he is usually helping someone with some problems, and turns it off to check later. But when the snack bell rings, all he can think about is getting onto the playground. Ryan and J came up with a plan to put a second meter in his desk so he doesn’t have to walk across the room to check. J seems to think this is a brilliant idea.
It is agreed that freedom is part of the problem, even if J doesn’t realize it yet. J insists that he has no “issues” with his diabetes. He honestly thinks it doesn’t adversely affect his life at all. Ryan was clear with him that, yes we expect a lot from him, but we would expect the same from all our children, diabetes or not. I even remember now Ryan having to take my older, non diabetic son, out to ice cream to give him the same “take your responsibilities seriously” talk.
Last night J hugged me before bed. He said, “I know you are worried mom, but seriously I’m not forgetting things on purpose…I’m OK. I was just stressed yesterday because we had three assessment tests for our report cards yesterday, and it really stressed me out.”
So I offer this new epiphany that came to me at 2:00am this morning…
Could it be…maybe I’m in denial here…could it be, that yesterdays freak out session had more to do with me than it did J?
That maybe I was so freaked out about handing J the playbook that I freaked out when he didn’t play the game by my rules. That I ran onto the field blowing my whistle like an overzealous coach and called a time out on his play.
That MAYBE I’m so scared of what MAY be coming down the road…that I called it before there was time to let it play out.
That MAYBE I’m not giving him a fair chance.
That MAYBE I’m trying to take back the control I handed over to him just a couple weeks ago?
Maybe.
I’m back in the bleachers. I’ve been kicked off the field. I’ll continue to scrutinize each play…but next time I’ll show more restraint. I won’t stop the game and cry foul all together. I’ll take the role assistant coach and help him figure out how to correct his plays so he can score, and make himself and his family proud.
My husband, alarmed at the sight, asked me what was wrong.
As I poured out my heart a mile a minute…recounting all the words of my blog yesterday, referring regularly to the post on DiabetesMine, and using the words “High on Freedom” in every other sentence…my husband did what every gentleman would do…
He pulled the emergency break to stop the train and then carefully step by step helped me off until I was on solid ground again.
After listening to my rant, he sat thoughtfully in his seat for a moment before he offered this:
“I think you may have something there,” he said. “But I think that is just a small part of it all…I really think he is just lazy.”
I tried to explain to him that is what all the parents in the comment section thought, but really it was their childs bid for freedom from their diabetic lives. He didn’t totally dismiss it, but he insisted he knew something I didn’t. He insisted J was the mirror image of him when he was that age, and he knew some of what was going on in J’s head.
I value his opinion. I know men think differently than woman. So I let him plead his case.
He presented the facts.
* J checks his sugar every morning and boluses for breakfast on his own. He never forgets.
* We have told J that he only needs to check his sugar once before lunch at school.
For whatever reason, J ignores his snack alarm, and doesn’t test sometimes. (He was determined to get to the bottom of this one.)
* J boluses for his snack every day.
* J calls me after he has eaten his lunch every day and even checks his sugar then when he realizes he forgot to earlier. (Which if course, this number is of no help to me, but it is effort none the less.)
* J always tells me the truth when he doesn’t test. He isn’t lying to us.
* J will check when he feels low. J called us twice in the last two weeks before lunch saying he felt low, checked and had eaten a snack.
* J helps L check his sugar in kindergarten at least 3 times a week. He never complains about this, and always calls us to tell us the number.
* J always brings his monitor on a fieldtrip or the track when they run the mile and never forgets to test there.
In conclusion, he says, J is just not checking sometimes at snack. And after dinner he needs to be reminded to bolus because he has done his homework and usually B lines to the TV or his IPOD.
He insisted on picking up J after school for ice cream and having a talk with him. He was confident he could get to the bottom of it.
And you know what…I think he did.
It turns out his alarms to check before snack go off during Math time. Every day in Math the kids are split up in groups…each group has kids in different levels so the kids who understand the work can tutor the kids who don’t. Jack is a tutor, and when his alarm goes off he is usually helping someone with some problems, and turns it off to check later. But when the snack bell rings, all he can think about is getting onto the playground. Ryan and J came up with a plan to put a second meter in his desk so he doesn’t have to walk across the room to check. J seems to think this is a brilliant idea.
It is agreed that freedom is part of the problem, even if J doesn’t realize it yet. J insists that he has no “issues” with his diabetes. He honestly thinks it doesn’t adversely affect his life at all. Ryan was clear with him that, yes we expect a lot from him, but we would expect the same from all our children, diabetes or not. I even remember now Ryan having to take my older, non diabetic son, out to ice cream to give him the same “take your responsibilities seriously” talk.
Last night J hugged me before bed. He said, “I know you are worried mom, but seriously I’m not forgetting things on purpose…I’m OK. I was just stressed yesterday because we had three assessment tests for our report cards yesterday, and it really stressed me out.”
So I offer this new epiphany that came to me at 2:00am this morning…
Could it be…maybe I’m in denial here…could it be, that yesterdays freak out session had more to do with me than it did J?
That maybe I was so freaked out about handing J the playbook that I freaked out when he didn’t play the game by my rules. That I ran onto the field blowing my whistle like an overzealous coach and called a time out on his play.
That MAYBE I’m so scared of what MAY be coming down the road…that I called it before there was time to let it play out.
That MAYBE I’m not giving him a fair chance.
That MAYBE I’m trying to take back the control I handed over to him just a couple weeks ago?
Maybe.
I’m back in the bleachers. I’ve been kicked off the field. I’ll continue to scrutinize each play…but next time I’ll show more restraint. I won’t stop the game and cry foul all together. I’ll take the role assistant coach and help him figure out how to correct his plays so he can score, and make himself and his family proud.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Crash and Burn
I’ve had a headache for a week. And all these tears aren’t helping me one bit.
Mom of the year here has crashed. She is flat on her face. Lost in her emotions.
It’s all about J.
You know, I blog here every week like I know it all.
Like I got it all figured out and wrapped up in a pretty bow.
But I found out yesterday, that I will never know what my boys go through every day. I will never know their heartache, their fears, and their exhaustion from the day to day with this disease. I thought I was shielding them from the worst of it. I thought I was making things easy on them by doing the bulk of the work for them. I thought that diabetes was just a few seconds out of their day. That I was doing all the worrying for them…
I thought wrong.
Here is J. My responsible, straight A, bright boy. His teachers have always praised him for how ‘mature’ and ‘responsible’ he is. He has always been the ‘perfect’ kid and student. He has always taken his diabetes seriously, he has always tested, and he has always bolused. But this year is he is slowly falling apart. He needs reminders to check. I have to hound him after dinner to bolus for his food. I have to have ‘talks’ with him about taking responsibility for his body. After all, I thought, I have done it all for him up until now…how hard is it to take the initiative and remind yourself?
When he does fall off the wagon, (so to speak,) we have a ‘discussion’ and for the next week he is spot on…he checks at school and I think it all is better now. That the problem is fixed. But then the next week comes, and he ‘forgets’ to check again.
“How can you forget to check? You have an alarm on your pump and on your watch to remind you. What do you do when they go off???”
“I turn them off.”
“And you don’t check?”
“No, I don’t check.”
“Why? Help me understand why.”
“I don’t know.”
It came to a head yesterday. He hasn’t checked his blood sugar at school all week.
I didn’t yell…but I wasn’t kind. I lectured until I was blue in the face. I cried. He cried. All I could get out of him was, “Everyone expects me to be perfect. I wish I wasn’t smart, then no one would expect anything from me.”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect J. I only expect you to do your best.”
“What if my best, is sometimes perfect? I don’t want to do my best. I want to be like the other kids.”
We hugged. We came up with some ideas to motivate him to test. But I was still totally confused. I looked into my boys eyes and couldn’t wrap my head around what was going through his mind.
Until today. I read today’s article from Diabetes Mine…and it was the epiphany I needed.
Now that I have handed J the reigns…he has given himself the greatest gift he could ever ask for…
Freedom from Diabetes.
And I don’t blame him. (Man, it is really hard to type through tears!)
I mean, do you blame him? If you had the chance to sneak away from diabetes, wouldn’t you?
The risk is worth the taste of freedom to him. It is a high to be in control…to forget about diabetes for the day.
I hate that the road ahead isn’t mapped out for us. I hate that I have to live and learn, and that I will have to learn from my mistakes with J to help his other brothers when they get older. I hate that I don’t know what tomorrow holds…that we have to take it all day by day. I hate that I’ll have to pull out some tough love. That when he gets drunk on his freedom, I’m going to have to sober him up again.
This comment from a mother in regards to The Diabetes Mine article really hit me hard:
“Your story brought tears to my eyes as we face similar issues with our son 17 diagnosed at 22 months. Freedom as a drug is a great explanation for it and I never thought of it that way. That is why the artificial pancreas is not the cure, because our children will still not be free.”
My heart aches for my boys.
Until there is a cure, they will never truly be free.
Mom of the year here has crashed. She is flat on her face. Lost in her emotions.
It’s all about J.
You know, I blog here every week like I know it all.
Like I got it all figured out and wrapped up in a pretty bow.
But I found out yesterday, that I will never know what my boys go through every day. I will never know their heartache, their fears, and their exhaustion from the day to day with this disease. I thought I was shielding them from the worst of it. I thought I was making things easy on them by doing the bulk of the work for them. I thought that diabetes was just a few seconds out of their day. That I was doing all the worrying for them…
I thought wrong.
Here is J. My responsible, straight A, bright boy. His teachers have always praised him for how ‘mature’ and ‘responsible’ he is. He has always been the ‘perfect’ kid and student. He has always taken his diabetes seriously, he has always tested, and he has always bolused. But this year is he is slowly falling apart. He needs reminders to check. I have to hound him after dinner to bolus for his food. I have to have ‘talks’ with him about taking responsibility for his body. After all, I thought, I have done it all for him up until now…how hard is it to take the initiative and remind yourself?
When he does fall off the wagon, (so to speak,) we have a ‘discussion’ and for the next week he is spot on…he checks at school and I think it all is better now. That the problem is fixed. But then the next week comes, and he ‘forgets’ to check again.
“How can you forget to check? You have an alarm on your pump and on your watch to remind you. What do you do when they go off???”
“I turn them off.”
“And you don’t check?”
“No, I don’t check.”
“Why? Help me understand why.”
“I don’t know.”
It came to a head yesterday. He hasn’t checked his blood sugar at school all week.
I didn’t yell…but I wasn’t kind. I lectured until I was blue in the face. I cried. He cried. All I could get out of him was, “Everyone expects me to be perfect. I wish I wasn’t smart, then no one would expect anything from me.”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect J. I only expect you to do your best.”
“What if my best, is sometimes perfect? I don’t want to do my best. I want to be like the other kids.”
We hugged. We came up with some ideas to motivate him to test. But I was still totally confused. I looked into my boys eyes and couldn’t wrap my head around what was going through his mind.
Until today. I read today’s article from Diabetes Mine…and it was the epiphany I needed.
Now that I have handed J the reigns…he has given himself the greatest gift he could ever ask for…
Freedom from Diabetes.
And I don’t blame him. (Man, it is really hard to type through tears!)
I mean, do you blame him? If you had the chance to sneak away from diabetes, wouldn’t you?
The risk is worth the taste of freedom to him. It is a high to be in control…to forget about diabetes for the day.
I hate that the road ahead isn’t mapped out for us. I hate that I have to live and learn, and that I will have to learn from my mistakes with J to help his other brothers when they get older. I hate that I don’t know what tomorrow holds…that we have to take it all day by day. I hate that I’ll have to pull out some tough love. That when he gets drunk on his freedom, I’m going to have to sober him up again.
This comment from a mother in regards to The Diabetes Mine article really hit me hard:
“Your story brought tears to my eyes as we face similar issues with our son 17 diagnosed at 22 months. Freedom as a drug is a great explanation for it and I never thought of it that way. That is why the artificial pancreas is not the cure, because our children will still not be free.”
My heart aches for my boys.
Until there is a cure, they will never truly be free.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
My quest for liquid gold
I went to the pharmacy. Hello…blogging goldmine.
I psyched myself up the whole way there. I went over what I was going to say in my head a dozen times. Determined not to cry, I mustered up the courage from every nook and cranny of my being to stick up for myself.
I was Inspired by the Olympics…I was going for gold baby!!
I walked in and was pleased to see an old timer at the “drop off” cubicle. I’ve worked with her before, and she doesn’t give me too much attitude.
I walked up to her and gave it to her straight.
“I have three Type 1 Diabetics, all on insulin pumps. I usually call in prescriptions, but I’m on my last vile and don’t have that luxury this month. Here is my problem. Usually, I ask you to mail me two of the boys’ insulin, so you only have to fill one. I know you don’t have a lot on hand, so I always thought this was the best way.”
She reaches for the insurance cards…I gently pull them closer to me. I wasn’t done yet.
“But when I do this, the pharmacist, in order to keep supply on hand, only gives me ONE vile of insulin and tells me he’ll mail the rest. But I need more than one vile of insulin. I NEED at least two.”
(She is following, but just barely.)
“So what do you think? Shall I have you fill all three boys’ insulin, so he can give me one for each boy…and mail me the rest? Or shall we do it the easy way have him fill one of my boys in full, and mail the other two boys?”
She is in denial.
She tells me that they don’t work this way. She says, if they have it on hand, they will give it all to me. Problem is sometimes they really do only have ONE vile left…or for that matter, sometimes none.
“I’m not saying you are not an honest person,” I reply. “But, I have been told twice that he doesn’t like to deplete his supply, and that his hording is in fact, the case.”
She insists she is right.
I tell her I am skeptical, but I’m willing to play roulette. Let’s see if he gives me only one vile, or if I’ll hit the jackpot. I grab my insurance cards, and just am turning around when she says, “We’ll get your boys their medicine eventually, don’t you worry.”
HUH???? The room slowed, I’m drunk with anger…I stopped instantly in my tracks, and turn calmly towards her. I put my purse on the counter and look her in the eye. “As long as “eventually” comes before I run out…that will be fine. “ I smile to lighten the mood. “I’m not ordering antibiotics here, my boys can’t even go a few hours without insulin. It’s more than medicine, it’s life support.”
She nodded. “Oh, I know.”
(What ev’…she doesn’t know.)
20 minutes later L’s name pops up on the pharmacy jumbotron and I’m in line. I scan the bags on the shelf. There are many that looked like they could be one vile, and a few that looked like there could be a couple viles.
Which one was mine???
The tech grabbed a bigger bag…I got FOUR viles. Holla.
The lady who put in my order walked by. “See,” she bragged, “I told you!”
“Yay,” I said, “I think we’ll have cake tonight to celebrate!”
As she walked away the new Pharmacy Tech leaned in and whispered, “She didn’t get it.”
I smirked; completely impressed that he got my sarcastic remark. “Yah, no cake…just 20 more days of life for my boys.”
I walked out victorious. 4 viles of insulin and I didn’t even cry.
That’s gold in my book.
I psyched myself up the whole way there. I went over what I was going to say in my head a dozen times. Determined not to cry, I mustered up the courage from every nook and cranny of my being to stick up for myself.
I was Inspired by the Olympics…I was going for gold baby!!
I walked in and was pleased to see an old timer at the “drop off” cubicle. I’ve worked with her before, and she doesn’t give me too much attitude.
I walked up to her and gave it to her straight.
“I have three Type 1 Diabetics, all on insulin pumps. I usually call in prescriptions, but I’m on my last vile and don’t have that luxury this month. Here is my problem. Usually, I ask you to mail me two of the boys’ insulin, so you only have to fill one. I know you don’t have a lot on hand, so I always thought this was the best way.”
She reaches for the insurance cards…I gently pull them closer to me. I wasn’t done yet.
“But when I do this, the pharmacist, in order to keep supply on hand, only gives me ONE vile of insulin and tells me he’ll mail the rest. But I need more than one vile of insulin. I NEED at least two.”
(She is following, but just barely.)
“So what do you think? Shall I have you fill all three boys’ insulin, so he can give me one for each boy…and mail me the rest? Or shall we do it the easy way have him fill one of my boys in full, and mail the other two boys?”
She is in denial.
She tells me that they don’t work this way. She says, if they have it on hand, they will give it all to me. Problem is sometimes they really do only have ONE vile left…or for that matter, sometimes none.
“I’m not saying you are not an honest person,” I reply. “But, I have been told twice that he doesn’t like to deplete his supply, and that his hording is in fact, the case.”
She insists she is right.
I tell her I am skeptical, but I’m willing to play roulette. Let’s see if he gives me only one vile, or if I’ll hit the jackpot. I grab my insurance cards, and just am turning around when she says, “We’ll get your boys their medicine eventually, don’t you worry.”
HUH???? The room slowed, I’m drunk with anger…I stopped instantly in my tracks, and turn calmly towards her. I put my purse on the counter and look her in the eye. “As long as “eventually” comes before I run out…that will be fine. “ I smile to lighten the mood. “I’m not ordering antibiotics here, my boys can’t even go a few hours without insulin. It’s more than medicine, it’s life support.”
She nodded. “Oh, I know.”
(What ev’…she doesn’t know.)
20 minutes later L’s name pops up on the pharmacy jumbotron and I’m in line. I scan the bags on the shelf. There are many that looked like they could be one vile, and a few that looked like there could be a couple viles.
Which one was mine???
The tech grabbed a bigger bag…I got FOUR viles. Holla.
The lady who put in my order walked by. “See,” she bragged, “I told you!”
“Yay,” I said, “I think we’ll have cake tonight to celebrate!”
As she walked away the new Pharmacy Tech leaned in and whispered, “She didn’t get it.”
I smirked; completely impressed that he got my sarcastic remark. “Yah, no cake…just 20 more days of life for my boys.”
I walked out victorious. 4 viles of insulin and I didn’t even cry.
That’s gold in my book.
Friday, February 19, 2010
A Reenactment.
Scene: Bedroom, 1:30am, parents in deep sleep, drooling on their pillows, dreaming of the weekend ahead.
*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*
Silence is broken by alarm. The alarm clock is across the room.
Meri nudges Ryan. (She REALLY doesn’t want to get up.)
Ryan hops out of bed. (A look of relief flashes over Meri’s face. She has a peaceful smile as she instantly falls back to sleep.)
((KERPLUNK)) Ryan is immediately back in bed. He only snoozed the alarm; he did not check the boys’ blood sugars.
Meri’s heart sinks, but she is able to fall back to sleep in mere seconds.
*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*
Meri nudges Ryan again.
Ryan: “I think you are confused. That isn’t my alarm, it is your alarm.”
Meri: “What???? Is it time to bring the kids to school???“
Ryan: “Very funny.” (Rolls over)
Meri: “UHG!”
Meri rolls out of bed, dazed, walking like a drunk. Her head is throbbing from a headache she has been fighting for three days.
She checks sugars…putting her children’s life in her hands while in a state of extreme tiredness and confusion. She silently swears, “Good Hell!” as she has to correct all three children’s blood sugars.
Meri falls back into bed, and tugs unsuccessfully at the covers, trying to recover her real estate that has been stolen by said Ryan.
Ryan: (Awakened by the tugging of sheets he has haphazardly wrapped around his body) “Are you mad at me?”
Meri: “No…But just for the record the 1:30am alarm is not MY alarm…it is OUR alarm.”
Ryan: Gives a small laugh. “You’re going to blog about this tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Meri: “You bet your sweet bahootie I am.”
Ryan: Sings in a high pitched voice, “Blog worthy!” And as he rolls over yet again, he quietly curses that, “NOW, he is wide awake!”
He begins to snore literally seconds later.
And Meri? She IS wide awake…Trying to remember the conversation that just occurred, so she could indeed…blog about it tomorrow.
*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*
Silence is broken by alarm. The alarm clock is across the room.
Meri nudges Ryan. (She REALLY doesn’t want to get up.)
Ryan hops out of bed. (A look of relief flashes over Meri’s face. She has a peaceful smile as she instantly falls back to sleep.)
((KERPLUNK)) Ryan is immediately back in bed. He only snoozed the alarm; he did not check the boys’ blood sugars.
Meri’s heart sinks, but she is able to fall back to sleep in mere seconds.
*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*
Meri nudges Ryan again.
Ryan: “I think you are confused. That isn’t my alarm, it is your alarm.”
Meri: “What???? Is it time to bring the kids to school???“
Ryan: “Very funny.” (Rolls over)
Meri: “UHG!”
Meri rolls out of bed, dazed, walking like a drunk. Her head is throbbing from a headache she has been fighting for three days.
She checks sugars…putting her children’s life in her hands while in a state of extreme tiredness and confusion. She silently swears, “Good Hell!” as she has to correct all three children’s blood sugars.
Meri falls back into bed, and tugs unsuccessfully at the covers, trying to recover her real estate that has been stolen by said Ryan.
Ryan: (Awakened by the tugging of sheets he has haphazardly wrapped around his body) “Are you mad at me?”
Meri: “No…But just for the record the 1:30am alarm is not MY alarm…it is OUR alarm.”
Ryan: Gives a small laugh. “You’re going to blog about this tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Meri: “You bet your sweet bahootie I am.”
Ryan: Sings in a high pitched voice, “Blog worthy!” And as he rolls over yet again, he quietly curses that, “NOW, he is wide awake!”
He begins to snore literally seconds later.
And Meri? She IS wide awake…Trying to remember the conversation that just occurred, so she could indeed…blog about it tomorrow.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Flying Solo
“It’s not easy letting go.”
No better phrase to describe my week.
Last week at the Endo I got a lot of praise. They are always overly kind, and as I alluded to before, I am pretty sure it is because I am so pathetic. Anyway…our Endo said something on the lines of this:
(And while you are reading her words...pay particular attention to how she builds me up, so after I am torn down, the aftermath isn't so messy...)
“Meri, you have done a phenomenal job raising diabetics that are dependent on you. You could write a book on how to take care of a young diabetic. But now you are onto something new. Raising a diabetic that is dependent on himself. We’ve been telling you for months, it’s time to let go. He is ready. He doesn’t want to be dependent on you anymore…he needs to do this for himself.”
HUH? (Picture a ton of bricks landing on my head.)
You mean I’m not going to be able to control my boys’ diabetes for the rest of their lives??? You mean I have to shift the responsibility onto them eventually?
What ev’. (Indignant sniff)
But is seems I have no choice. J is 12 now, and has had diabetes for 11 years and 7 months. He will be starting Jr. High next year and he wants to eat from the food court. He wants to be as normal as possible, and apparently, that doesn’t include calling me for carb amounts. (poo)
So as prescribed by our doctor…I have let him fly the coop so to speak.
He counts his own carbs now.
I still ask him, “So how many carbs did you count for that?” And he tells me. For the first couple days, I would correct his amounts if they were wrong. He got tired of this right away. “Mom, I can’t do it on my own if you are helping me!”
So now I zip it. And it is SOOOOOOOOOOOO hard.
Even if he is wrong…I zip it. Now later, after the fact, when he checks his blood sugar and gets a higher number than he expects, I talk to him about it. “Why is this number high? What did you bolus for that sandwich? Maybe next time you should count the bread as 20 each instead of 15. “ And I've become really good at sneaking in carb lessons. I will count carbs out loud within J's earshot...and ask his advice...and pretend I don't know how many carbs something is, and have him look it up for me. :)
He IS really impressing me. But it has added a couple grey hairs. Like yesterday, I bloused the younger boys and DIDN'T EVEN ASK J if he had bloused for his breakfast. I realized this at 8:20am. He was already at school, driven by my wonderful SIL. I called her in a panic. “I didn’t ask J if he bolused for breakfast. Is he with you?” Nope, he was gone. She hunted him down for me though…and guess what…He HAD bolused.
Oh me of little faith.
He is doing surprisingly well. When he is off…it usually is just by a few grams of carb.
It’s been very satisfying for him. On Valentine’s Day, I realized when he got home that he never called me that day about Valentine Party snacks.
“Did you have extra Valentine’s snacks today? “
“Yup, I cupcake, 1 small piece of chocolate and 2 orange slices.”
“You never called me??! Did you bolus?”
“Ya, I guessed 35 carbs.”
Pretty good guess…I think I would’ve gone higher…but I give him props.
“How did it feel giving yourself insulin without having to call me first?”
“Mom, it was really amazing.” He blushed. “It felt really good.”
Bottom line: I’ve been virtually benched.
So I’ll let go. I’ll empower him to control his life. I’ll have to hover at a distance. My new role with J is not out on the “diabetes field” so to speak, but on the sidelines…routing him on…occasionally cat calling advice from the bench.
Oh, I’ll be watching the game…silently scrutinizing every play.
But, He’s got the playbook now.
It’s time for him to shine.
No better phrase to describe my week.
Last week at the Endo I got a lot of praise. They are always overly kind, and as I alluded to before, I am pretty sure it is because I am so pathetic. Anyway…our Endo said something on the lines of this:
(And while you are reading her words...pay particular attention to how she builds me up, so after I am torn down, the aftermath isn't so messy...)
“Meri, you have done a phenomenal job raising diabetics that are dependent on you. You could write a book on how to take care of a young diabetic. But now you are onto something new. Raising a diabetic that is dependent on himself. We’ve been telling you for months, it’s time to let go. He is ready. He doesn’t want to be dependent on you anymore…he needs to do this for himself.”
HUH? (Picture a ton of bricks landing on my head.)
You mean I’m not going to be able to control my boys’ diabetes for the rest of their lives??? You mean I have to shift the responsibility onto them eventually?
What ev’. (Indignant sniff)
But is seems I have no choice. J is 12 now, and has had diabetes for 11 years and 7 months. He will be starting Jr. High next year and he wants to eat from the food court. He wants to be as normal as possible, and apparently, that doesn’t include calling me for carb amounts. (poo)
So as prescribed by our doctor…I have let him fly the coop so to speak.
He counts his own carbs now.
I still ask him, “So how many carbs did you count for that?” And he tells me. For the first couple days, I would correct his amounts if they were wrong. He got tired of this right away. “Mom, I can’t do it on my own if you are helping me!”
So now I zip it. And it is SOOOOOOOOOOOO hard.
Even if he is wrong…I zip it. Now later, after the fact, when he checks his blood sugar and gets a higher number than he expects, I talk to him about it. “Why is this number high? What did you bolus for that sandwich? Maybe next time you should count the bread as 20 each instead of 15. “ And I've become really good at sneaking in carb lessons. I will count carbs out loud within J's earshot...and ask his advice...and pretend I don't know how many carbs something is, and have him look it up for me. :)
He IS really impressing me. But it has added a couple grey hairs. Like yesterday, I bloused the younger boys and DIDN'T EVEN ASK J if he had bloused for his breakfast. I realized this at 8:20am. He was already at school, driven by my wonderful SIL. I called her in a panic. “I didn’t ask J if he bolused for breakfast. Is he with you?” Nope, he was gone. She hunted him down for me though…and guess what…He HAD bolused.
Oh me of little faith.
He is doing surprisingly well. When he is off…it usually is just by a few grams of carb.
It’s been very satisfying for him. On Valentine’s Day, I realized when he got home that he never called me that day about Valentine Party snacks.
“Did you have extra Valentine’s snacks today? “
“Yup, I cupcake, 1 small piece of chocolate and 2 orange slices.”
“You never called me??! Did you bolus?”
“Ya, I guessed 35 carbs.”
Pretty good guess…I think I would’ve gone higher…but I give him props.
“How did it feel giving yourself insulin without having to call me first?”
“Mom, it was really amazing.” He blushed. “It felt really good.”
Bottom line: I’ve been virtually benched.
So I’ll let go. I’ll empower him to control his life. I’ll have to hover at a distance. My new role with J is not out on the “diabetes field” so to speak, but on the sidelines…routing him on…occasionally cat calling advice from the bench.
Oh, I’ll be watching the game…silently scrutinizing every play.
But, He’s got the playbook now.
It’s time for him to shine.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Randomly Me.
Ask and ye shall receive Shamae. Per the agreement...more fancy facts about the woman behind the blog. For more info on me, you can click here. Or even here.
*I DVR Lost, Project Runway and Castle.
*I teach the 10-12 year olds in Sunday School every week. I believe in miracles. I believe in angels. I believe in prayer.
*I rarely drive the normal way anywhere…I’m all about the fastest way. Even if it saves only seconds.
*I hate clutter. I am always throwing/giving stuff away. Some think it’s wasteful. I see it as clearing my head.
*My bestie is my husband.
*It ticks me off that the opening ceremonies for the Olympics started at 9:00pm. Sorry, my boys will not be able to participate in this WORLD WIDE celebration. Shouldn’t this be a family event???
*My boys are fully aware what PMS is, and know not to take things personally during Mom’s time of the month.
*When I graduated High School and they made a video with all the seniors telling where they thought they would be in 10 years, I was the only one who said, “Married with children.” Maybe that explains my one semester of college, and getting married at age 20.
*I’m not one to sugar coat things. I tell it like it is. The truth sets me free.
*I don’t think I am better than anyone. But I do think what sets me apart from some people is, I KNOW when I am being unfair, stupid or stubborn. I think a lot of people don’t realize when they are acting badly. This also lends to me being very hard on myself. If I hurt someone, I am aware, and it hurts me too.
*When I speak in front of people I get a rash all over my neck.
*I don’t watch rated R movies. My husband and I walked out of 2 about 10 years ago, and we never looked back.
So there you go. Completely random things about me. We are totally BFF's now!
*I DVR Lost, Project Runway and Castle.
*I teach the 10-12 year olds in Sunday School every week. I believe in miracles. I believe in angels. I believe in prayer.
*I rarely drive the normal way anywhere…I’m all about the fastest way. Even if it saves only seconds.
*I hate clutter. I am always throwing/giving stuff away. Some think it’s wasteful. I see it as clearing my head.
*My bestie is my husband.
*It ticks me off that the opening ceremonies for the Olympics started at 9:00pm. Sorry, my boys will not be able to participate in this WORLD WIDE celebration. Shouldn’t this be a family event???
*My boys are fully aware what PMS is, and know not to take things personally during Mom’s time of the month.
*When I graduated High School and they made a video with all the seniors telling where they thought they would be in 10 years, I was the only one who said, “Married with children.” Maybe that explains my one semester of college, and getting married at age 20.
*I’m not one to sugar coat things. I tell it like it is. The truth sets me free.
*I don’t think I am better than anyone. But I do think what sets me apart from some people is, I KNOW when I am being unfair, stupid or stubborn. I think a lot of people don’t realize when they are acting badly. This also lends to me being very hard on myself. If I hurt someone, I am aware, and it hurts me too.
*When I speak in front of people I get a rash all over my neck.
*I don’t watch rated R movies. My husband and I walked out of 2 about 10 years ago, and we never looked back.
So there you go. Completely random things about me. We are totally BFF's now!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
ComprENDO que estoy loco
Translation: I understand I am crazy.
Yesterday, after my shower and the mandatory make-up regimen…I gave myself the final look in the mirror. You know, the one we do to size up the situation. The final check before we run out the door. Usually, I am satisfied with the final check. (I have really low standards,) and I start my day.
But yesterday, as I peered in for a looksie, all I could think was, “Dang woman, you look like hell.”
Even after my regimen, I looked tired and gaunt. I chalked it up to maybe starting to catch the cold the boys have…but as I ran out the door, and did another check in the entryway mirror (hoping the results would look better with more natural light,) I was startled that I was in such bad shape.
I added a little more makeup…trust me when I tell ya, it didn’t change things.
The bags under my eyes were there. The paleness was still there.
I thought about the last few months as I ran out the door. I was on my way to take the boys out of school to go to our tri-yearly endo appointment. I brain scanned over the past few months and knew that their A1C’s would be the best they had ever been. I had put in more effort than ever before. Inspired by my blogging community, I made changes and had a goal to keep the boys in the 100’s as much as possible. (which is stupid, because diabetes does what it wants,) But I was as vigilant as diabetes would allow me to be.
Hence the dark circles under my eyes.
It is exhausting just thinking about the last few months. I told my SIL as we drove up…I’m expecting amazing A1C’s, and at the same time, I fully expect to be disappointed.
Here was my theory:
No matter how hard you work, diabetes is going to do what it is going to do, so you need to find the place where diabetes is important…but not the only all encompassing thing in your life. I always felt, once you find a comfortable place, stay there. I don’t like obsessing about numbers. I don’t think it is healthy.
But the last couple months, I’ve been a bit obsessive. And I’m mentally, and it seems physically exhausted because of it.
Secretly I hoped that their A1C’s would be the same as last time, and I would prove my theory that I didn’t need to obsess. That I should go back to being super laid back about it all.
Nope.
Their A1C’s were freakin’ amazing.
Which in an absolutely loony bin kind of way, depresses me to no end.
How will I be able to keep the momentum going?
Keeping them in that range meant fighting many more lows. Which I don’t like. Which I think is somewhat responsible for the life that was sucked out of me this last month. You can’t have a 6.5 A1C without fighting lows.
And we all know how low’s suck.
I need to find my balance.
I need to control without obsessing. (Is that even possible?)
I guess I’m just overwhelmed about the upcoming next few months. My boys had wonderful A1C’s this month, but it came at a cost. And I’m feeling guilty that I am even thinking about the toll it took on me. Because I’m just in charge of all of this for a short while…they are the ones that literally have to live as diabetics forever, (or until there is a cure, but good hell, who knows when that will happen.)
Anyway, I made some goals, and they are to:
* Not obsess.
* Adjust basals and ratios so they don’t have too many lows.
* Have J carb count himself…to give him freedom, and me a little more room in my brain.
* Make things like blousing before they eat routine.
* Take care of myself. (An example of this might be not eating to help myself get through emotionally.)
* Make sure the boys are happy and as self sufficient as they can be.
I know!! It’s like I’m asking for the moon!
I’m sure I’ll be more optimistic after I recover from the 4 hours at the endo yesterday. It's just, Fan-Freakin-Tastic A1C's should feel better than this, right?
Man, I got problems.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Feeling Edgy?
The other day we were leaving to go to my in-laws for a nice dinner. As I was grabbing the keys to go out the door, my husband says,
“Oh ya, I forgot, the bench in your car is broken, we’ll have to take 2 cars.”
WTH
“Oh ya? Oh ya? That is how you tell me…’by the way, the bench is broken’??”
“It’s not a big deal,” he says…”It is still under warranty.’
“No big deal? No big deal? (Ya, I repeat myself when I am in disbelief.) Do you have any idea how that is going to affect my life for the next week?? It means HOURS at a dealership, of which I’m not sure even exists, (we have a Saturn,) where they will tell me they have to “order” a part, which means a return trip to the dealership for hours of waiting! Not to forget, I NEED those seats to carpool kids!”
My husband looked at me like I was nuts. I don’t blame him. I was on the verge of a breakdown.
This is where I looked down at a spoon that was in my hand that must have magically appeared, because I don’t remember how it got there…
And I threw it into the sink.
Where it made a HUGE KERPUNK because our sink is stainless steel.
My husband was baffled…(wherein lies the proof that men are COMPLETELY different than women.)
As we sat in silence driving to my in-laws I turned to my husband.
“You know why I’m crazy? You want to know why little things like a broken bench throw me for a loop? I live on the edge of a cliff. My toes are hanging over the edge of that cliff. The broken bench didn’t put me there…I’m ALREADY there. You could throw a feather at me, and that is all it would take to fling me over that edge. The LITTLEST of things can tip me over. So that broken bench, was like a Karate chop to my back. A girl can only stay stable for so long. A girl can only keep her balance on the edge if she doesn’t have things belting her on the back of the head to throw her over. I’ve spent my life on this ledge. Sometimes it’s sunny and calm, but most days it’s windy, and I have a hard time keeping my footing. Do not throw things at me while I am on the ledge!”
My husband nodded. He made a comment that let me know he understood what I was saying. He winked at me and gave me the smile. The smile that always puts me right again.
And when we got to my in laws, my sweet husband fixed the bench on his own. And he saved me from a week of “extra stress.”
Sometimes I close my eyes, and live my life pretending I don’t live on that ledge. I pretend all is fine and my life is as normal as all get out. But then something small happens and I lose it. And I’m forced to open my eyes and see where I live emotionally.
That is why little things break us. We are like sticks, bent to the breaking point. We live everyday with tension on each end. All it takes is a small amount of pressure to break that stick.
SO ya, I WILL throw a spoon when the bench breaks.
I will cry when I read posts about Oprah and Dr. Oz fricking up the worlds view on Diabetes.
I will crumble when small things get thrown my way.
Because I am there…on the cliff…living every day on the edge. It is a perilous place to be, but if I’m able to keep my footing, and dare to look up from my toes that cling to the rocky cliff…I can actually take in the view…
And it is breathtaking.
“Oh ya, I forgot, the bench in your car is broken, we’ll have to take 2 cars.”
WTH
“Oh ya? Oh ya? That is how you tell me…’by the way, the bench is broken’??”
“It’s not a big deal,” he says…”It is still under warranty.’
“No big deal? No big deal? (Ya, I repeat myself when I am in disbelief.) Do you have any idea how that is going to affect my life for the next week?? It means HOURS at a dealership, of which I’m not sure even exists, (we have a Saturn,) where they will tell me they have to “order” a part, which means a return trip to the dealership for hours of waiting! Not to forget, I NEED those seats to carpool kids!”
My husband looked at me like I was nuts. I don’t blame him. I was on the verge of a breakdown.
This is where I looked down at a spoon that was in my hand that must have magically appeared, because I don’t remember how it got there…
And I threw it into the sink.
Where it made a HUGE KERPUNK because our sink is stainless steel.
My husband was baffled…(wherein lies the proof that men are COMPLETELY different than women.)
As we sat in silence driving to my in-laws I turned to my husband.
“You know why I’m crazy? You want to know why little things like a broken bench throw me for a loop? I live on the edge of a cliff. My toes are hanging over the edge of that cliff. The broken bench didn’t put me there…I’m ALREADY there. You could throw a feather at me, and that is all it would take to fling me over that edge. The LITTLEST of things can tip me over. So that broken bench, was like a Karate chop to my back. A girl can only stay stable for so long. A girl can only keep her balance on the edge if she doesn’t have things belting her on the back of the head to throw her over. I’ve spent my life on this ledge. Sometimes it’s sunny and calm, but most days it’s windy, and I have a hard time keeping my footing. Do not throw things at me while I am on the ledge!”
My husband nodded. He made a comment that let me know he understood what I was saying. He winked at me and gave me the smile. The smile that always puts me right again.
And when we got to my in laws, my sweet husband fixed the bench on his own. And he saved me from a week of “extra stress.”
Sometimes I close my eyes, and live my life pretending I don’t live on that ledge. I pretend all is fine and my life is as normal as all get out. But then something small happens and I lose it. And I’m forced to open my eyes and see where I live emotionally.
That is why little things break us. We are like sticks, bent to the breaking point. We live everyday with tension on each end. All it takes is a small amount of pressure to break that stick.
SO ya, I WILL throw a spoon when the bench breaks.
I will cry when I read posts about Oprah and Dr. Oz fricking up the worlds view on Diabetes.
I will crumble when small things get thrown my way.
Because I am there…on the cliff…living every day on the edge. It is a perilous place to be, but if I’m able to keep my footing, and dare to look up from my toes that cling to the rocky cliff…I can actually take in the view…
And it is breathtaking.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to the Endo we go.
We made the trek to the endo yesterday. It takes about an hour to get there…with no traffic.
First, we drove down the 101 to get to the Golden Gate Bridge...
Then we got mugged by the City of San Francisco as we were forced to pay $6.00 toll for the honor of crossing said bridge...
Then we drove into the city, pass the Palace of Fine Arts and then took a right at Divisadero...
Then we drove up the wet your pants hill, (which these pics don't do justice for,) and passed all the fancy houses until we took a right at O'Farrell...
We sat for over an hour getting info about the Medronic CGM for J. We learned how to read the info, and how to troubleshoot the alarms. Unfortunately, when you put on a new sensor you can’t get information from it for a couple hours. Once the sensor has time to adjust to your body, you can then check your sugar and calibrate it…THEN it will start giving you numbers.
And when that first number popped up…NIRVANA! It was magical. I can’t even tell you the excitement that filled the room. B was nearby and was in full covet mode.
“I want one!!! When can I get one!!!”
“If we get one it will be for all of you boys honey. You’ll get to wear it sometimes!”
“No thanks, I’ll take my own.”
It so far has been about 20 points off from his finger stick blood sugar readings. It alarmed this morning on a low…AND… Woke. J. Up.
Nice.
We were told at the doctor’s office in no uncertain terms, that we should NOT test J's sugar less this week. (What ev’!) If Lawton alerts, and J’s CGM says he isn’t close to low…I can skip him and check the other boys.
One catch.
I want to look at his pump ALL THE TIME.
“What does it say now J?”
“J, where are you at now? Are there arrows going down or up???”
I had to back off last night…I was beginning to annoy him. And the novelty wore off pretty quickly for J. He was jumping up and down in the beginning…and then later when asked how he liked it by my Mother in Law, he was like, “It’s alright.”
He’s only been getting readings from it for 16 hours, and already I have gleaned some pretty interesting info. J wakes up in the low 90’s every day. (Sometimes as low as 60’s) I haven’t worried too much about it, Lawton usually wakes me if he gets to the 60’s…but last night I was able to see that he is fine until about 5:30am and then he crashes. In one and a half hours he dropped 80 points. Very interesting!
So there it is, a half day of info and me likey. I kept thinking about how nice it would have been to have this when J was a baby. When he napped I could have looked at this and gotten a better Idea if I needed to risk waking him with a check or not. I don’t know if this is a successful system for really little ones…but man, wouldn’t it be awesome if it was????
We get to keep this until next week. If we are fully committed to using it, our doc will pull the necessary strings for us to get our own.
So far…it’s a go. (((silent squeal of happiness)))
First, we drove down the 101 to get to the Golden Gate Bridge...
Then we got mugged by the City of San Francisco as we were forced to pay $6.00 toll for the honor of crossing said bridge...
Then we drove into the city, pass the Palace of Fine Arts and then took a right at Divisadero...
Then we drove up the wet your pants hill, (which these pics don't do justice for,) and passed all the fancy houses until we took a right at O'Farrell...
We sat for over an hour getting info about the Medronic CGM for J. We learned how to read the info, and how to troubleshoot the alarms. Unfortunately, when you put on a new sensor you can’t get information from it for a couple hours. Once the sensor has time to adjust to your body, you can then check your sugar and calibrate it…THEN it will start giving you numbers.
And when that first number popped up…NIRVANA! It was magical. I can’t even tell you the excitement that filled the room. B was nearby and was in full covet mode.
“I want one!!! When can I get one!!!”
“If we get one it will be for all of you boys honey. You’ll get to wear it sometimes!”
“No thanks, I’ll take my own.”
It so far has been about 20 points off from his finger stick blood sugar readings. It alarmed this morning on a low…AND… Woke. J. Up.
Nice.
We were told at the doctor’s office in no uncertain terms, that we should NOT test J's sugar less this week. (What ev’!) If Lawton alerts, and J’s CGM says he isn’t close to low…I can skip him and check the other boys.
One catch.
I want to look at his pump ALL THE TIME.
“What does it say now J?”
“J, where are you at now? Are there arrows going down or up???”
I had to back off last night…I was beginning to annoy him. And the novelty wore off pretty quickly for J. He was jumping up and down in the beginning…and then later when asked how he liked it by my Mother in Law, he was like, “It’s alright.”
He’s only been getting readings from it for 16 hours, and already I have gleaned some pretty interesting info. J wakes up in the low 90’s every day. (Sometimes as low as 60’s) I haven’t worried too much about it, Lawton usually wakes me if he gets to the 60’s…but last night I was able to see that he is fine until about 5:30am and then he crashes. In one and a half hours he dropped 80 points. Very interesting!
So there it is, a half day of info and me likey. I kept thinking about how nice it would have been to have this when J was a baby. When he napped I could have looked at this and gotten a better Idea if I needed to risk waking him with a check or not. I don’t know if this is a successful system for really little ones…but man, wouldn’t it be awesome if it was????
We get to keep this until next week. If we are fully committed to using it, our doc will pull the necessary strings for us to get our own.
So far…it’s a go. (((silent squeal of happiness)))
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The only constant, is change.
A little insight on J. J was always a skinny little guy.
To give you a little perspective, here are some facts:
*L who is in Kindergarten, is wearing pants that J wore in 2nd AND 3rd grade.
*J had the same carb ratio AND correction ratio for 4 years! K-3.
*J who is in 6th grade, is only 2 inches shorter than my 2nd grader. (But to be fair, B is REALLY tall.)
*J’s little buttie and hips were depleted from so many years of shots. He was too skinny to get injections anywhere else. He needed some fat to slow down the insulin because he was so skinny.
But J is changing. He is 12 now and has started puberty. He has gained a lot of weight and is finally growing. Within one year he has completely transformed. I recently looked at Christmas pictures that I thought were from 2 years ago, but they were actually from 1 year ago. He was so tiny then…not anymore.
J is extremely happy he is growing now. Maybe not happy about the extra weight...he has quite a tummy, but trust me when I tell you, that wearing the same size shoe for 3 years didn’t sit well with him.
So here he is….just growing….and changing….and it’s happening right before our eyes.
Last night though, it really socked us in the head.
Lawton alerted and the boys ran to check their blood sugar. (If you are imagining happy boys skipping cheerfully to their blood sugar monitors, you would be wrong. They were watching a program and wanted to get their check in during a commercial. It was a scramble if anything.)
Anyway…Lawton alerts…they check…and they report back to us. All of them were in the low 100’s with extra insulin on board. It was J’s report though that threw us for a loop.
“I am 139, with a correction needed of 0.8 units and I have 1.9 units on board.”
What the! (Not What the! about the insulin on board...What the! about his correction.)
My husband shook his head….”No way J. There is no way that is right. You are 139 and you need a correction of o.8? What is your target, 50??”
Giggles ensued as my hubby and J started calculating in their heads what his correction ratio was. My husband was rolling on the ground laughing…He kept saying ”There is no way!"
You see, to us, J is still that little boy. His correction ratio was for so much of his life, 1 unit of insulin to bring his blood sugar down 100 points.
While my math enthusiasts were figuring out ratios in their head, I grabbed J's pump and looked up what his sensitivity was. Sure enough, 1 unit is needed to bring him down 50.
What the!
That explains my eye twitching at night when I correct J. If his pump tells me to give him 2 units there is always panic in my tummy…my knee jerk reaction is ALWAYS, “That can’t be right.” But it is.
Change happens whether we want it or not.
We are constantly changing basal rates and ratios. It seems they never just gradually need more insulin…it always happens suddenly. Out of nowhere, someone will start having numbers in the 400’s. After going through days of troubleshooting, it always becomes apparent. A change needs to be made, they need more insulin. But why so suddenly? Why no warning? As they get older, I can see it more clearly, but when they were tiny, it was WHAM! HE NEEDS MORE INSULIN, NOW!!!
You would think changes would happens like this…
But it seems they always happens like this…
Maybe I am too busy and overwhelmed to notice the steady rise in insulin needs. Maybe.
But if there is anything constant with diabetes…it’s that nothing stays the same.
To give you a little perspective, here are some facts:
*L who is in Kindergarten, is wearing pants that J wore in 2nd AND 3rd grade.
*J had the same carb ratio AND correction ratio for 4 years! K-3.
*J who is in 6th grade, is only 2 inches shorter than my 2nd grader. (But to be fair, B is REALLY tall.)
*J’s little buttie and hips were depleted from so many years of shots. He was too skinny to get injections anywhere else. He needed some fat to slow down the insulin because he was so skinny.
But J is changing. He is 12 now and has started puberty. He has gained a lot of weight and is finally growing. Within one year he has completely transformed. I recently looked at Christmas pictures that I thought were from 2 years ago, but they were actually from 1 year ago. He was so tiny then…not anymore.
J is extremely happy he is growing now. Maybe not happy about the extra weight...he has quite a tummy, but trust me when I tell you, that wearing the same size shoe for 3 years didn’t sit well with him.
So here he is….just growing….and changing….and it’s happening right before our eyes.
Last night though, it really socked us in the head.
Lawton alerted and the boys ran to check their blood sugar. (If you are imagining happy boys skipping cheerfully to their blood sugar monitors, you would be wrong. They were watching a program and wanted to get their check in during a commercial. It was a scramble if anything.)
Anyway…Lawton alerts…they check…and they report back to us. All of them were in the low 100’s with extra insulin on board. It was J’s report though that threw us for a loop.
“I am 139, with a correction needed of 0.8 units and I have 1.9 units on board.”
What the! (Not What the! about the insulin on board...What the! about his correction.)
My husband shook his head….”No way J. There is no way that is right. You are 139 and you need a correction of o.8? What is your target, 50??”
Giggles ensued as my hubby and J started calculating in their heads what his correction ratio was. My husband was rolling on the ground laughing…He kept saying ”There is no way!"
You see, to us, J is still that little boy. His correction ratio was for so much of his life, 1 unit of insulin to bring his blood sugar down 100 points.
While my math enthusiasts were figuring out ratios in their head, I grabbed J's pump and looked up what his sensitivity was. Sure enough, 1 unit is needed to bring him down 50.
What the!
That explains my eye twitching at night when I correct J. If his pump tells me to give him 2 units there is always panic in my tummy…my knee jerk reaction is ALWAYS, “That can’t be right.” But it is.
Change happens whether we want it or not.
We are constantly changing basal rates and ratios. It seems they never just gradually need more insulin…it always happens suddenly. Out of nowhere, someone will start having numbers in the 400’s. After going through days of troubleshooting, it always becomes apparent. A change needs to be made, they need more insulin. But why so suddenly? Why no warning? As they get older, I can see it more clearly, but when they were tiny, it was WHAM! HE NEEDS MORE INSULIN, NOW!!!
You would think changes would happens like this…
But it seems they always happens like this…
Maybe I am too busy and overwhelmed to notice the steady rise in insulin needs. Maybe.
But if there is anything constant with diabetes…it’s that nothing stays the same.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Strong, but human.
I get my feelings hurt sometimes. Yes, I’m human. I’m fragile.
Don’t confuse my strong will with numbness.
Don’t confuse my positive outlook with complacency.
Don’t confuse my outspokenness with arrogance.
I feel.
Just because I have shown myself able to handle even the most difficult situations in life, it doesn’t mean I don’t breakdown. It doesn’t mean I don’t question myself.
I need empathy, just like the next guy.
The dictionary defines empathy as: Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives.
Then the dictionary says:
See: Pity
Which at first ticked me off, because who wants pity? But I looked it up anyway and it says this:
Pity: Sympathy and sorrow aroused by the misfortune or suffering of another.
Pity then sends you over to compassion.
Compassion: Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it.
I am not a robot. I need these things sometimes.
Do I want people constantly patting me on the back, telling me they are so sorry for the life I live?
No.
Do I want people looking at me, shaking their heads wondering how I ever do it?
No.
But don’t tell me that what I go through and what my children go through is no big deal.
Don’t tell me to get over it.
And for goodness sakes, don’t keep your distance from me because you don’t understand what I am going through, or because you don’t know what to say.
Or because you think I don’t need you… because I am so strong.
I need a measure of empathy. A small measure of understanding.
I have a friend. She has a son that has seizures. Not just once in a while. They are all day, every day. Because of this she home schools the rest of her kids. She cannot leave him. Her life revolves around her son. In turn, her life does not exist. Her family suffers. And as a mother, her suffering is intense. To have to watch your child go through something like that? He is growing into a young man, but is like a 3 year old. He can’t speak. He cannot control his bodily functions. The ambulance came to her house four times last year. Each seizure she is forced to wonder, “Is this it? Will he live through this one?”
And she is on the edge.
I spoke to her recently. She is able to speak to me a little about it, because she can see that my situation, although not nearly as upsetting, is somewhat similar. Because generally, people do not understand the strain a chronic illness can put on a mothers psyche.
People think she is so strong and capable, that they choose not to see that she is vulnerable and that she is hurting.
Some think she is bitter. When really all she is doing is surviving. She needs to be strong.
The bottom line is: if she is not strong, all is lost.
I think it is with any situation. Loss of job or financial trouble. Death of a loved one or sickness of a family member. Cancer or diabetes. It comes with the territory: If you are not living it, you cannot truly understand the pain.
So what can one do?
See past the wall.
Love. Hug. support. Repeat.
And try not to compare. Just because someones situation "could be worse," or doesn't seem like the end of the world to you...dosn't mean what a person is going through isn't devastating or heartbreaking to them.
Just because someone handles something brilliantly 90% of the time, does not mean this someone doesn’t break down and feel alone in life sometimes.
Strong people need to know that they are loved too. Small words, small gestures...can hurt strong people. In turn small words or small gestures can lift up strong people.
Maybe you do not understand why a person acts, or handles things a certain way. Maybe this person is strong, or annoying, or brash. But regardless...this person needs to know you care.
They just need to know. And that is why I blog. That is why I facebook. Because when I write that we were up all night with high blood sugars…I get responses from people who care. Maybe they don’t totally understand, but they say things to me like, “I’m sorry.” Or “That must have been awful!” Or “Yes! I was up all night with my daughter…I totally know what you went through!” Or maybe they say something funny to lighten the mood. It isn’t mindless drivel about my day.
It is what I need, and probably what everyone in the world needs…A small measure of understanding.
Don’t confuse my strong will with numbness.
Don’t confuse my positive outlook with complacency.
Don’t confuse my outspokenness with arrogance.
I feel.
Just because I have shown myself able to handle even the most difficult situations in life, it doesn’t mean I don’t breakdown. It doesn’t mean I don’t question myself.
I need empathy, just like the next guy.
The dictionary defines empathy as: Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives.
Then the dictionary says:
See: Pity
Which at first ticked me off, because who wants pity? But I looked it up anyway and it says this:
Pity: Sympathy and sorrow aroused by the misfortune or suffering of another.
Pity then sends you over to compassion.
Compassion: Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it.
I am not a robot. I need these things sometimes.
Do I want people constantly patting me on the back, telling me they are so sorry for the life I live?
No.
Do I want people looking at me, shaking their heads wondering how I ever do it?
No.
But don’t tell me that what I go through and what my children go through is no big deal.
Don’t tell me to get over it.
And for goodness sakes, don’t keep your distance from me because you don’t understand what I am going through, or because you don’t know what to say.
Or because you think I don’t need you… because I am so strong.
I need a measure of empathy. A small measure of understanding.
I have a friend. She has a son that has seizures. Not just once in a while. They are all day, every day. Because of this she home schools the rest of her kids. She cannot leave him. Her life revolves around her son. In turn, her life does not exist. Her family suffers. And as a mother, her suffering is intense. To have to watch your child go through something like that? He is growing into a young man, but is like a 3 year old. He can’t speak. He cannot control his bodily functions. The ambulance came to her house four times last year. Each seizure she is forced to wonder, “Is this it? Will he live through this one?”
And she is on the edge.
I spoke to her recently. She is able to speak to me a little about it, because she can see that my situation, although not nearly as upsetting, is somewhat similar. Because generally, people do not understand the strain a chronic illness can put on a mothers psyche.
People think she is so strong and capable, that they choose not to see that she is vulnerable and that she is hurting.
Some think she is bitter. When really all she is doing is surviving. She needs to be strong.
The bottom line is: if she is not strong, all is lost.
I think it is with any situation. Loss of job or financial trouble. Death of a loved one or sickness of a family member. Cancer or diabetes. It comes with the territory: If you are not living it, you cannot truly understand the pain.
So what can one do?
See past the wall.
Love. Hug. support. Repeat.
And try not to compare. Just because someones situation "could be worse," or doesn't seem like the end of the world to you...dosn't mean what a person is going through isn't devastating or heartbreaking to them.
Just because someone handles something brilliantly 90% of the time, does not mean this someone doesn’t break down and feel alone in life sometimes.
Strong people need to know that they are loved too. Small words, small gestures...can hurt strong people. In turn small words or small gestures can lift up strong people.
Maybe you do not understand why a person acts, or handles things a certain way. Maybe this person is strong, or annoying, or brash. But regardless...this person needs to know you care.
They just need to know. And that is why I blog. That is why I facebook. Because when I write that we were up all night with high blood sugars…I get responses from people who care. Maybe they don’t totally understand, but they say things to me like, “I’m sorry.” Or “That must have been awful!” Or “Yes! I was up all night with my daughter…I totally know what you went through!” Or maybe they say something funny to lighten the mood. It isn’t mindless drivel about my day.
It is what I need, and probably what everyone in the world needs…A small measure of understanding.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Boy #5
He’s becoming a person.
I was one of those people that hated when pet owners spoke of the “amazing” animals in their lives… like how cute they were, and the adorable shenanigans that they would get themselves into. I never got it. I honestly would secretly roll my eyes and patiently endure until the end of the conversation or until I could politely change the subject. I wasn’t rude by any means…I would always inject a polite, “No way!” or nod my head and give an understanding closed mouth smile.
But it wasn’t real. I never had that kind of connection to an animal…it all seemed silly…
Until now.
Our yellow lab Lawton has become my fifth boy. He has a hilarious personality and is constantly making me laugh with his human like ways. Seriously, his eyebrows tell a story. They are constantly moving in reaction to whatever is going on in the room.
I know…I’m such a dork.
So for those of you who don’t get it (and I promise I don’t hold it against you)…I’ll TRY to keep this brief…
The other day, after all the chores were done and the boys were sweet talking me into playing video games, I exclaimed that they were free to do what they wanted, as long as they gave me a hug.
B was the first to jump up. He leaned in…and gave me his famous sideways hug.
L was right behind B hugging my waist with all the strength a 6 year old could muster.
Before M and J could jump off the couch…Lawton was up and over to me nudging his head into my thigh and licking my hand. He then nonchalantly walked away to where the boys would be playing video games. I received the last of the hugs for the day from M and J. (Hello, my dog hugged me! I am not kidding!)
{{{{DORK ALERT}}}}
When my husband got home from work a couple days ago, we all went to hug him and that was when Lawton jumped gently up to my husband, paws on his chest and leaned in, paused for a second, and then hopped down, and then walked away like it was the most normal thing. HE. HUGGED. HIM!
{{{DOUBLE DORK ALERT}}}
(I’m almost done…you can do it!)
But yesterday was the best! And I say that with all the enthusiasm of a loony pet owner…
Yesterday I was filing in J’s 6th grade class. J’s entire class was in the multi use room practicing for their play, so I was alone most of the time… but they came in the last fifteen minutes I was there to take a test. Lawton was under the table I was working at. When J came in Lawton jumped up and waited for J to come over to him and give him some love. J nuzzled him a bit and returned to his desk to take the test. What followed was a sight I will never forget.
Lawton began to crawl…like commando crawl…across the classroom. Quiet as a mouse. Stopping now and then making sure he wasn’t being detected. His head would swing side to side, checking that no one was noticing what he was doing. I could just make out his eyebrows rising as they reacted to the sound of the teacher’s voice giving directions in front of the class. He would crawl. Stop. Look. Crawl. J was aware of what Lawton was doing and watched horrified that his teacher would see.
Luckily she didn’t have a clue. (Ya, he was THAT good...)
So yeah, I’m one of THOSE people that see dogs hanging their heads out of car windows and laugh at the expressions on their face. And giggle when I see a dog manipulating his owner to go where he wants to go…
But if I’m being honest…and y’all know I always try to be completely honest…
I still don’t get cats.
Sorry mom…I totally snore during your “cute” cat stories. For real.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Tiny Bubbles and a Speck.
Tonight B’s tubing broke. It seems to crack a lot right near the reservoir. It usually goes undetected until a there is a crazy out of nowhere high blood sugar. The insulin drips out there, and then B ends up not getting any of it. An old friend of mine once told me to write down all the ones that break and call Medronic with the info. But that takes time and effort…and I’m lacking in both areas these days.
So tonight a 460 popped up and immediately B looked at his pump and said, “Yup, it's cracked Mom.”
I think it is important to note here that my hubby is in charge of set changes. I deal with the calls from school, I deal with most of the carb counting and nighttime checks…HE deals with the set changes. It displaces some of my guilt and takes some of the load off of my shoulders. Sure, I've had to do it now and then…and honestly it isn’t THAT big of a deal…
But it’s those freakin’ bubbles that get me every time!
So tonight a 460 popped up and immediately B looked at his pump and said, “Yup, it's cracked Mom.”
I think it is important to note here that my hubby is in charge of set changes. I deal with the calls from school, I deal with most of the carb counting and nighttime checks…HE deals with the set changes. It displaces some of my guilt and takes some of the load off of my shoulders. Sure, I've had to do it now and then…and honestly it isn’t THAT big of a deal…
But it’s those freakin’ bubbles that get me every time!
Tiny bubbles…how big is too big? Sure champagne bubbles are OK, but I don’t drink champagne people…how big is too big? I flick, I push it back in, I flick and flick…but I can’t get them to go. My husband is AWESOME at it. One flick of the wrist and he has a full reservoir full of insulin that is as flat as tap water.
So anyway…tonight B’s tubing cracked and he needed a set change. My husband was out for the evening so I took the easy way out. I attached one of the other boys pumps and corrected his blood sugar and then added his basel for the next three hours.
But, it didn’t work.
He was high as a rouge balloon and wasn’t coming down.
He either A) Needed a shot, Or B) Needed a set change.
I was totally going to go with B.
“I’ve gotta give you a shot honey.”
“UHG! I REALLY don’t like shots Mom.”
“I know B. You should know, I REALLY don’t like giving them either.”
Then he says, “They don’t really hurt…it’s just the thought of them that makes it so awful.”
So as I was looking for a needle, I suddenly bucked up…
“Meri,” I thought….”Meri, you are a grown up. Put the freakin' set together and get it done with. He either gets one shot or two. It depends on you. What are you made of? You are no wimp!”
So I gathered the necessary supplies and got down to business. J was by my side. Ryan has been giving him lessons lately, but he too has a bubble problem. I thought between the two of us, we could get it done. I finally got the insulin to what I thought was a good place…but as I showed it to J, we noticed a giant bubble on the top.
“Do it again Mom.”
“What if I just push it out?”
“Do it again Mom.”
(sheesh, what a slave driver.)
So I did it again and this time he gave me a pass. (It was close though.)
So B’s pump was all back together, we primed it and inspected the tubing…
Bubbleless…SA-WEET!
So I call in B and after a bit of negotiating, we decide on a place to put it.
He closes his eyes and whispers, “Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.” And then screams, “GO!”
I pop it in and his eyes pop open and he gives me a look. A terrifying look of shock.
“What???!!! What did I do???” I’m freaking out here…what did I do to my boy?
“Wow Mom…it was just like Dad does it! It felt like a speck.”
A long conversation ensued…what did he mean… a speck? He went on to explain that a speck was like in Horton Hears A Who, that it is something so tiny it’s hard to even know it’s there…”Kinda’ like a whoosh.” he said.
I’m pretty proud of myself for taking the leap. I stop myself from doing a lot of things because I lack the confidence. But I’m feeling a little daring these days.
What could be next?
I’m excited to find out!
Monday, January 11, 2010
Help Wanted
Stunt double for 1:30am blood sugar checks.
Must have legs of iron for bumping into bed corners in the dark, and toes of steel for dresser edges and random toy bumpage. When awakened by the alarm, an instant steady gate is paramount for not bumping like a drunk into walls and doors.
Must have the mind of Einstein at a moment’s notice, no matter how hard and intensely crazily you were dreaming seconds before. This is necessary to calculate intense algebraic equations and important for creative thinking when trying to get a child up to pee, while he is dead asleep and unable to wake.
Job position requires steady eye hand coordination while poking fingers that are sleepily being jerked away from you. And quick reflexes for grabbing the pump before the child dreamily rolls over and it disappears under sheets and stuffed animals. When feeding our diabetics becomes necessary, you must be well versed in such things as food absorption and the reading of food labels for carbohydrate counts, sugar and fat content.
Important! Do not apply for this job if you don’t have the presence of mind at an early hour to check that the toilet seat is down before you sit to pee, (or if you are male, the presence of mind to aim properly.)
Hours suck.
Pay sucks.
Rewards will be seen years down the road.
Wimps and whiners need not apply
.
Applications accepted at ourdiabeticlife.blogspot.com
Must have legs of iron for bumping into bed corners in the dark, and toes of steel for dresser edges and random toy bumpage. When awakened by the alarm, an instant steady gate is paramount for not bumping like a drunk into walls and doors.
Must have the mind of Einstein at a moment’s notice, no matter how hard and intensely crazily you were dreaming seconds before. This is necessary to calculate intense algebraic equations and important for creative thinking when trying to get a child up to pee, while he is dead asleep and unable to wake.
Job position requires steady eye hand coordination while poking fingers that are sleepily being jerked away from you. And quick reflexes for grabbing the pump before the child dreamily rolls over and it disappears under sheets and stuffed animals. When feeding our diabetics becomes necessary, you must be well versed in such things as food absorption and the reading of food labels for carbohydrate counts, sugar and fat content.
Important! Do not apply for this job if you don’t have the presence of mind at an early hour to check that the toilet seat is down before you sit to pee, (or if you are male, the presence of mind to aim properly.)
Hours suck.
Pay sucks.
Rewards will be seen years down the road.
Wimps and whiners need not apply
.
Applications accepted at ourdiabeticlife.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Growing Up Meri
To commemorate my birthday, I would like to take you with me for a moment down Memory Lane. Starting with the above announcement of my birth. First off I want to point out that the giant brown spot on my cheek never existed. It must have been the flash from the camera or something. Other than that, there is no excuse for why I look like an Asian Sumo Wrestler...
Below you will find a sampling of pictures throughout my life. It was easy to choose only the cutest pics of me because apparently, that is all that I keep. I wanted to put in some truly awkward ones...put alas, they no longer exist.
So here I am...growing up Meri through the years...
Getting on the treadmill now...
Friday, January 8, 2010
This just in...
So first off I want to give a little update/report card on J yesterday. He texted me at snack (180) and before lunch (182.) He called me after lunch and I bolused him like I usually do, and then got a phone call from him 2 hours later that he was 52 with a b-load of insulin on board.
Let me break down my thoughts.
1) Looks like I need to adjust early morning basels, or his carb ratio for breakfast. But I want a few more days of numbers before I make any changes.
2) This was my first glimps in awhile of what his sugar is doing at snack time. I bolus much more agressivly on the weekends, because a) We have Lawton, and b) because he doesn't have PE and recess at home on the weekends.
3) I congratulated J on the snack test...and then followed up with, "Did you bolus for your snack?" Head hung low..."no." But then I went on to learn that he had a big fat cupcake for snack. WAIT! Your bg was 180 at 10:15am, you didn't correct...you didn't give insulin for a giant cupcake...and your bg was 182 two hours later? Has this kid really been doing himself a favor not bolusing for his snacks the past couple months??? (Of course I would never tell him that.) Obviously, if we are going to do things right and bolus like we are supposed to, things need to change. But food for thought...What if we left things the same and gave him a 30 carb snack everyday, and he wouldn't have to bolus. Dangerous I know, if he decides not to eat his snack. But J ALWAYS eats half his lunch at snack. It is wrong on so many levels...but I'm chewing on it in the back of my head.
4) Why the low after lunch? Things are more complicated here. Because he used to call me with his BG 30 minutes AFTER he ate lunch, I would always just have him correct and add a few more carbs depending on what he ate. (Not scientific in the least...but it was my failsafe system...he always came home in the low 100's.) But now I have different info and I have to start from scratch. It is pretty obvious his basels are too strong. But alot of work to do before we are where we are supposed to be.
So I give J and A for effort.
After writing up about the talk yesterday, and getting an uber generous offer from Kelly to use their CGM for awhile...I decided to call our nurse and get the low down on our insurance and coverage for CGM's. Hey...things change all the time. What did I have to lose?
She called me back at 4:30pm.
Yes, they can get a CGM for J.
No, it won't cost us anything.
Yes, it takes some creative paperwork...but they are on it.
HOLY COW!
We have an appointment next month with our endo. We will discuss it there, probably put the doctors sesor on J to let him try it out. And then once we order it, it should be here in a couple weeks.
HOLY COW!
I sat J down and asked him what he thought of getting a CGM. He had no idea what it was so I gave a brief explanation.
He gave me a crooked smile and said, "So it's a robot Lawton?"
"I guess you could say that..."
"I'll take it, but I still want Lawton with me at school sometimes."
It was a deal.
Let me break down my thoughts.
1) Looks like I need to adjust early morning basels, or his carb ratio for breakfast. But I want a few more days of numbers before I make any changes.
2) This was my first glimps in awhile of what his sugar is doing at snack time. I bolus much more agressivly on the weekends, because a) We have Lawton, and b) because he doesn't have PE and recess at home on the weekends.
3) I congratulated J on the snack test...and then followed up with, "Did you bolus for your snack?" Head hung low..."no." But then I went on to learn that he had a big fat cupcake for snack. WAIT! Your bg was 180 at 10:15am, you didn't correct...you didn't give insulin for a giant cupcake...and your bg was 182 two hours later? Has this kid really been doing himself a favor not bolusing for his snacks the past couple months??? (Of course I would never tell him that.) Obviously, if we are going to do things right and bolus like we are supposed to, things need to change. But food for thought...What if we left things the same and gave him a 30 carb snack everyday, and he wouldn't have to bolus. Dangerous I know, if he decides not to eat his snack. But J ALWAYS eats half his lunch at snack. It is wrong on so many levels...but I'm chewing on it in the back of my head.
4) Why the low after lunch? Things are more complicated here. Because he used to call me with his BG 30 minutes AFTER he ate lunch, I would always just have him correct and add a few more carbs depending on what he ate. (Not scientific in the least...but it was my failsafe system...he always came home in the low 100's.) But now I have different info and I have to start from scratch. It is pretty obvious his basels are too strong. But alot of work to do before we are where we are supposed to be.
So I give J and A for effort.
After writing up about the talk yesterday, and getting an uber generous offer from Kelly to use their CGM for awhile...I decided to call our nurse and get the low down on our insurance and coverage for CGM's. Hey...things change all the time. What did I have to lose?
She called me back at 4:30pm.
Yes, they can get a CGM for J.
No, it won't cost us anything.
Yes, it takes some creative paperwork...but they are on it.
HOLY COW!
We have an appointment next month with our endo. We will discuss it there, probably put the doctors sesor on J to let him try it out. And then once we order it, it should be here in a couple weeks.
HOLY COW!
I sat J down and asked him what he thought of getting a CGM. He had no idea what it was so I gave a brief explanation.
He gave me a crooked smile and said, "So it's a robot Lawton?"
"I guess you could say that..."
"I'll take it, but I still want Lawton with me at school sometimes."
It was a deal.
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