I forgot.

The other night when I was wallowing in the cocoon of pity, I was so wrapped up in the wings of my despair, that I forgot...

I forgot that out in the world there were thousands...millions...of dots of light. Each dot representing other parents walking the halls of their own homes, administering the nighttime check.

I felt so alone.


Really though, I wasn't alone.

I forgot of the other PWD who were (hopefully) sleeping peacefully waiting for their alarms to wake them for their own checks. I also forgot about their spouses who stir in the bed and wait breathlessly to hear their spouse stir too.

I forgot that one number does not make or break my child's future, that my boys will have high numbers because, hello...they have diabetes.

I forgot that there is a greater force. One that trumps the helpless feelings that consume the night.

I forgot that I can't do better than my best. There is no perfection in diabetes...so my sorrow in the unattainable is moot.

I forgot that I am blessed with amazing, resilient children.

I forgot to count my blessings before counting myself out.

I forgot that in the darkness the corners of the bigger picture are hidden.

I forgot to pray.

Most days I feel so strong! Most days I take this Diabetic Life in stride. But I am human. No super human impenetrable brain of steel here.

We all have to break down sometime. It proves our humanity.

More than anything though, I think the most important thing I forgot is that my boys are ok.

It is all going to be ok.

Finding my fight at midnight.

The nighttime can be so cruel.

Devoid of light, my soul anguishes in my ineptitude.

Seeing two 400's staring back at me tonight didn't help things. In fact it began a tailspin that even I am worried I won't recover from.

In this nighttime all my hope is drowned away in pools of tears in my hands. All my positivity is enveloped in the black hole of my pity.

How is it ok that I am so completely responsible for my boys well being?

How is it ok that it is all on my shoulders?

Is this a cruel joke? Will my best ever be good enough?

When my boys are adults will I be able to look them in the eye and say, I really truly did my best?

How does the night strangle away all my victories?

Why do I only see the defeats?

What is it about the darkness that makes all my mistakes magnify a 100 times over?

At this moment all I can say is it isn't fair.

They are so beautiful. It isn't fair.

damn it. It isn't fair.

I hate the night. I desperately need the light of the new day. I need a new beginning.

Nothing good can come of this overwhelming darkness. I feel prisoner to the feelings of despair and grief.

I need to break out of here.

I can't let the darkness win.

I can't let the darkness make me feel hopeless.

I can't give up.

...

I'm going to stop crying now. I am going to stop and I am going to move forward. I will persevere and I will not give up...

Even though the darkness tells me to.

I WILL not give up.

I will NOT give up.

I can do this.

I will bring these 400's to their knees and I will fight every number for as long as my boys let me.

I don't know if I'm just too stubborn, or if I'm too stupid, but I am stronger than this. I feel my fight coming back.

I WILL NOT give up.

Tomorrow the sun will rise and the darkness will lose.

Tomorrow is a new day.

One day at a time.

Thank you Laura for your saying, "keep calm and carry on." That is what I will do right this minute.

Giving into the darkness is not an option.

There is no victory in my pity. Circumstances aren't likely to change anytime soon.

I don't know the reason.

I don't care that it isn't fair.

I will keep swimming,

And I'll say a prayer that tomorrow the light will be so bright, my soul will be hard pressed to absorb all the hope it will bring along with it.

The battle.

This last weekend ushered in the back to school sickies. B and J have sore throats, and L has a head cold. It is one of those situations that brings on the inner battle between my swelly brain and my fragile heart.

Today you get a behind the scenes look at the action!


"Hey Meri, the boys are so sick. Maybe you should let them stay home from school today."




"Ummm...Meri...have you forgotten that L's blood sugar number pattern was reminiscent of the skyline of the Rockies yesterday..."




"Just call the school...right now. Let them sleep in."




"They are so flipping cute...you need to keep them home and cuddle them and love them and make them soup."




"Why doesn't anyone listen to me! Protect them from the elements! It might hit 80 degrees today! Keep them home!"




"It's like I'm not even here. The swelly brain gets all the attention."


Yeah, the brain won out today. But tomorrow is a new day, and a new battle. If I had to put my money on one of them tomorrow...I think I would double down on the heart.

Now is the time for us to stand up and be heard!

Take 10 minutes out of your busy schedule and watch this video. I cannot tell you how important this is. There is a UN Summit taking place next month and Diabetes will be a big part of the discussions on the table. Leaders from around the world will be discussing an action plan, and debate if they should make a goal to decrease deaths from noncommunicable diseases by 25% by 2025. (Personally, I don't know what they are debating...my first instinct is to say, heck yeah! But some countries don't think it can be done. I for one feel that the world can accomplish anything it sets its mind to. They just have to try.) If ever you have thought to take action...the time is now. We need to be heard. Something needs to be done. We can't let the world sleepwalk any longer. They need to know that there are too many deaths, too much suffering because of this disease. Watch this interview and then consider what you can do to bring attention to this ground breaking summit.



If you live in NY, or near to NY, here is an event you can attend to bring much needed publicity to the summit...

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=242368832453916

Scaling the Back to School Alps

I'm scaling the Back to School Alps and it has occurred to me that I'm tired of taking this trek.

Even though my muscles seem stronger, and this year's hike will seem easier than last years, it still is laborious...and not even a little bit fun to think about.

To start off...I miss my boys. I know that is lame. But they are the reason I smile.

Secondly, when you've taken the same hike over and over and over again...the beauty is lost on you.

The same scenery is lackluster at best.

Oh lookie there...it is the "beginning of the school year lows"...yay.

And over that hill is the classic "forgot to call you with my blood sugar."

Three miles up is where they are "too excited to eat their lunch, so they just eat the cookie Tommy gave them."

"TOMMY!!" (Said in the same voice Seinfeld said 'NEWMAN!!')

Scurrying over there is the elusive "forgetting to bolus for breakfast."

Been there. Done that.

And then the worst part of the hike..."the lake of low self esteem, and worry of what others think of my pancreating."

I've been pushed into that water more times than I want to count.

Boring.

I feel like it is groundhog day and I will live the same scenarios over and over and over again.

Man, just call me Debbie Downer. :(

The back to school blues get to me every year. The start of the hike is always the worst. I know the mistakes that lay in the horizon. I know the guilt that is to come.

I am a seasoned hiker now...but no matter how great I navigate the course...no matter how nimble I am in scaling the obstacles...I just wish the course was flat.

I wish the terrain wasn't as rocky.

I wish it was easy.

But somewhere deep down in the recesses of my soul...somewhere I can't place...somewhere...I know that this course makes me a better person. I know that this course is going to mold my boys into the park rangers of their diabetes landscapes. This course will teach me patience. It will teach me to be humble and compassionate.

As much as I don't want to hike up the mountain of back to school...I will. Because as much as I hate to admit it...it will make me and my sons stronger.

The fiber of my boys character will be strengthened by these trials, I honestly believe this to be true.

My backpack is heavy with survival skills. My soul is heavy with determination.

So here I go.

And as I set off, I leave you all with this Irish Blessing...a blessing I hope you keep in your hearts as you begin your own trek up the mountain...

“May your joys be as bright as the morning, and your sorrows merely be shadows that fade in the sunlight of love. May you have enough happiness to keep you sweet, enough trials to keep you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to keep you happy."

Half eaten bowl of cereal? Or brain exploder?

Let me give you some insight as to why my brain is swelly.

Exhibit A: A cereal bowl, half full of milk and bits of cereal.

Practically every mother in America doesn't give that a second thought.

Me?

I give it a second thought. And a third one, a fourth one...and maybe even a tenth one.

Yesterday was the first day of school. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was excitement, but neither B nor L finished more than half their cereal.

And to top it off...they used bowls we have never used before.

Using new bowls on the first day of school?

How am I supposed to SWAG that?

They are not as wide...but they are a little deeper. The circumference of the circle...why am I even trying to figure this out...I AM A GEOMETRY LOSER!

Swelling. Swelling, and more swelling.

On top of that, B asked me how much insulin. Me...assuming that he had eaten his entire bowl, gave him an amount. When I went back later, my heart stopped.

"Who's bowls are these?!!" (That was me yelling with my eyes practically popping out of my head.)

The boys filed in.

J: "Not mine. I ate all mine."

L: "That one is mine but I told you I couldn't eat it all."

B: "That one is mine, why?"

Me: "Why??? Why???? When you asked for a carb count you failed to mention to me that you didn't eat it all. Don't you think that is important? Don't you think getting more insulin than you are supposed to is a big deal? What if you had already left for school?"

B: "Yeah. I guess that is kinda important."

So he ate a banana to make it up.

Who knew one half eaten bowl of cereal could cause such angst in a mothers heart?

Or was it half? The bowl is narrower at the bottom. How am I supposed to eyeball that????

Diabetes is diabetes. I know it is hard and emotional, and a pain in the arse.

But it the little things that tip me over the edge.

Constant little things.

I guess I have to ask myself, "is the bowl half empty, or half full?"

After some thought, my answer is: Does it really matter? The bowl, and whatever its contents, are poop disturbers. Period.

It is as simple, or as complicated, as that!

Proof I don't know everything.

Last week L had his last swimming lesson of the Summer Season. It was one of those crazy days...I don't remember all the details, but we were in a rush and I had to bring B along too. I had L check his sugar in the car on the way to the pool and a 119 popped up.

119 isn't really an ideal number...but for some reason, on that day...my head said, "Alrighty then! Let's swim!" Probably because his sugars have been running high the past couple weeks, and lows have been scarce if not non-existent.

We were late to the lesson and L ran ahead of me, smiling and spunky as usual. We walked in just as he was jumping into the pool...his teacher had him dunk his head and he did it with ease.

And then his teacher said, "Let's start with freestyle," and that is when it went all downhill.

He said, "But I can't do freestyle. I can't swim."

Both his teacher and I were taken aback, 'cause, yes he can.

The next 20 minutes were horrifying to watch. It was like he never had any lessons at all. He would jump off the step and flail and frantically grab for his teacher. My feelings were torn between terrifying fear and rising anger. These private lessons are expensive. This is the last summer lesson, what is he doing?? My jaw sat agape and my body sat stunned and frozen. I didn't know what to think.

I called from the side, "L, you need to listen to your teacher. You can swim, we all know you can. Just do your best, you will be fine."

Yeah, that didn't help.

He continued to flop in, freak out, and then begin to panic. Then his tears started and it was like I was hit on the side of my head with a bag full of rocks..."Could he be low??"

I stopped the lesson and brought him to the side. He was 52.

There was only 10 minutes left of the lesson and I knew I couldn't get him up enough to swim safely, so we said our goodbyes.

I kept playing the scene again and again in my mind. I knew blood sugars caused you to have no energy. I knew they caused you to be shaky. But paranoia? Could it be that the low caused him to forget he could swim?

I went home that night and messaged a few amazing type 1 woman. I pleaded with them to shed some light on the manic scene I had witnessed with L. Could his behavior been caused by the low?

Turns out yes. Absolutely.

One of these woman confided in me that Lows make her feel helpless. That she can't get her body to do what she wants it to do. Another let me know that she does get paranoia with lows, and even feels like everyone hates her and she is a loser. Much like a panic attack. One of them has had dreams full of paranoia.

It came to me that lows can heighten your insecurities. L is insecure in his swimming. He is scared of the water...and no matter how much progress we have made...that low made him go back to that place that told him it wasn't safe anymore.

I'm not sure I can put into words the sadness I have that I didn't pick up on the sugar nose dive earlier that day. I feel like I let him down. I let him suffer in that water for 20 minutes before I pulled him out. I know that I didn't know...but I should have known better. Because as my friend Reyna says, "If you know better, you do better."

I am humbled. I never thought I knew everything...but I thought I had a small grip on it all. This instance made me realize I will never know all the dark corners of this disease. There are always more surprises.

And now I won't be so bowled over. I have learned a valuable lesson. Don't get too comfortable.

I stand ready.

Bring it.

(P.S. L's teacher has agreed to 4 more lessons. I spoke to L and he seems to agree that those feelings came from the low. I feel strongly he needs to get back up on that horse. I can't let that last session be what he remembers from swimming...he needs to get his confidence back. I know he can do it!)

The invader.

I'm not sure how he got in. I'm not even sure when. But the man in black entered our house 13 years ago this week.

My skin crawls thinking about how he hid here, unnoticed for so long. I can imagine his joyful snicker, and the slits in his eyes widening just enough to see the damage he was doing to my baby.

Was it pre-calculated? Was he planning his assault for months? How did he choose my son?

I'll probably never know.

All I know is he liked it here. Because he has lived in the dark recesses of our home for lo these many years, and has found a way to attack two more of my boys. Attack in a silent, devastating, life threatening kinda way.

He has done everything he can to make my boys miserable. He lies in wait...picking the most inopportune times to make my boys go weak in the knees...to turn them ashen white...to make them desperate for a snack.

He can make them thirst. Seriously, who does that? He has a sick sense of humor for sure.

We let him wreak havoc for years. He had control...he was sneaky enough to take my brain and swell it up to astronomical proportions.

For a while, I forgot what was important.

For a while, all I could think about was the man in the shadows. My distain for him. My fear that he would jump out again and attack.

------------------------------------------------------

My plan for revenge came slowly. It was a seed planted by the light in my children's eyes.

One day my son's blood sugar was impossibly high and I smiled and said, "It is what it is...let's just fix it."

The dark shadow of a man cringed at my indifference. I heard him jerk deep into the shadows. He didn't like that I was becoming comfortable.

That moment was exhilarating, and it became my greatest joy to make him shirk.

Over time I could feel that I had the upper hand. I had the power to make HIM tremble in his boots. I wouldn't let him scare me anymore. His scare tactics were old. I could head them off with my outlook. I could defend myself with hope.

The man still lives here, and some days he tries to jump into hearts and cause panic. But most days he just whimpers with his miserableness. Most days he is lonely.

His power is limited now. I will not cower in fear. I will not let him take the air from the breath of our life.

Today...thirteen years after his appearance...The Diabetes Invader can suck it.

We love, despite his presence.

We hope, despite his presence.

We try...we endure...we succeed...

Despite his presence.

Diabetes may have a score of three with the Schuhmacher family...but we trump his score with our hope.

And I call that a win.

In fact, this is more how I see our relationship now...

From little things to big things.

(The blue candles on Facebook fuel the embers of anger I have for this disease. My thoughts are turned to the families that are hurting, and to the new families whose lives were turned upside down today. As I tried to navigate the hurt, I found myself drawn to my keyboard, to pay homage to those that mark today as their Diagnosis Day.)

Traveling through time.

The view is bright...the seasons fly.

Family is growing.

Your mind is on the little things.

Like keeping your child happy...

And school clothes. What is for lunch? There is construction/traffic on the 101.

Suddenly there is a tapping in the back of your head.

Something isn't right.

Your child constantly thirsts. Your child does not seem right...somehow.

But you need to buy school clothes. You need to go to the grocery store.

You need to find a detour away from the 101.

"Mom, I'm thirsty."

Your heart tugs. Your mind twists and turns.

It is summer after all. You are imagining things.

You aren't a big fan of drama. You question why you are creating it in your head.

And then you see your child doing something simple,

like brushing teeth...or making their bed...

and you see it.

Your child is so skinny.

Your child looks sick.

Your child has no energy.

Something is very wrong.

And suddenly...they are throwing up.

They are breathing deeply...gasping almost...so sweet...so wrong.

What is happening?

You are scared.

Your child is so scared.

And then to the hospital.

And then to be admitted.

And then for the veil to be lifted...

And nothing is the same. The world changes color.

Your child really doesn't need school clothes anymore. Your child always had enough.

There is plenty of food in the pantry.

You don't need to take the highway...the back roads are better for reflection anyway.

Diagnosis day.

Life picks you up and delivers you to your new course.

The new scenery is terrifying.

The new language is a puzzle.

And your child...

Your beautiful child is transformed.

It is as if they are magically donning shining armor.

The nobility...the bravery...the selflessness of a child with Diabetes.

The Diabetes kaleidoscope takes over your view.

Life is full of color and confusion.

But it is intensely beautiful too.

Traveling through time.

The view is bright...the seasons fly.

The family is growing.

Your mind is on the big things.

Like keeping your child alive...

Disciplining and Diabetes.

It is the elephant in the room. It is what every mother of a child with type 1 diabetes dreads. How can we discipline our children when they have such a burden to bear? How can we discipline a child who is high or low...especially when that high or low was from boluses that came from our very own hands?

Don't they deserve some mercy? Their gene pool didn't give them any, the world isn't giving them any...

Isn't it my job as a mother to give them a break?

How can I discipline a child who bears the world of this 24 hour disease on their little shoulders. A child who single handedly captures my heart as he smiles through tears during a set change? The child that already suffers, and struggles, and needs my support and love more than anything in this world?

This is how...

I want you to think about the people you know in your life. People you KNOW. People you have met, who you have spent time with...people throughout your life that somewhere in the attic of your brain, you have filed away relationships with.

Now...what percentage of these people have problems?

I hope you said 100%. Because if you didn't, then maybe you don't know these people as well as you think you do. Or maybe you have kidded yourself into thinking that other people, who do not have disease, have perfect lives.

Everyone has problems. Their problems can be intricate, they can be simple, they can be heartbreaking, they can be terrifying, they can be hidden...more problems are hidden than are not.

Now think of your children. Do you think that life is only going to hand them problems that relate directly to diabetes? Can we say that our children's hand has been dealt? That they stood in line and received the burden of diabetes and they are free to forget everything else?

Unfortunately, I can answer that one for you with a definitive no.

Is it fair?

As a mother, I would have to say no.

But life has a way of moving on no matter what your disease. No matter what our ailment. No matter what is fair.

Life continues...and the burdens of life are like the smoke of a fire. It gloms into the pours of our souls and can't be washed away with emotion...or fairness.

Our children must be prepared to live as adults in this world of drama and confusion.

They will be handed more problems to solve.

They need to learn how to work with people who are rude.

They need to learn how to take care of their bodies and their surroundings.

Even though they have diabetes, they still need to know how to make their bed and put the dishes in the sink.

Our children need to grow up and learn the same lessons everyone does. They need to know that it isn't ok to hit their brother, or it isn't ok to scream and have a tantrum when they are no longer a toddler.

I've struggled with this issue for years...because I'm not a callous human being. I love my bundle of joys more than my own life. Punishing them is the LAST thing I want to do.

But I made a mental list of rules...and my children know that no matter how cruddy they feel...some things are just not ok.

I feel strongly it is our responsibility as parents not only to raise responsible diabetics, but responsible adults that don't feel like they are owed anything.

Because the world doesn't give a yankee doodle dandy that our children have diabetes.

So when I punish, (which honestly doesn't consist of more than timeouts and privileges taken away,) even though it hurts me as much as it hurts them, (or more,)...I KNOW...I am doing the right thing. I know that I would have given them a time out if they didn't have diabetes...so why wouldn't they deserve one even with diabetes?

Maybe, because of diabetes, I'm kinder about it all. If I believe it has anything to do with their blood sugar numbers I give them a hug first. I let them know, that I know, they aren't feeling well. I give them insulin, or food...or water...and then I leave them in their time out. Because it isn't ok to turn your anger onto the people around you. It isn't ok to take your stomach ache out on your brothers.

I'm not pretending that I have it all figured out...I've made my share of mistakes.

Hand to heaven...I fail a lot, or at least I feel like I do.

But it is the question I get asked the most.

And my answer always is...if your child is acting in a way that is not acceptable...than it isn't acceptable. Even if his or her sugar is whacked out. Sure, they are allowed to be grumpy. Sure, they are allowed to vocalize the miserableness of this disease...but there are lines that you need to draw. And when you do, you can't feel like you are adding more weight to your child's shoulders.

Because in fact, you are taking the weight away. As adults they will thank you for allowing them to feel...but at the same time, not allowing them to walk all over you.

I've had to dethrone the king before. It is not easy...not even a little. But if your prince or princess has taken over the palace...and they are no longer a toddler...it is time.

It isn't your fault they have diabetes.

It isn't your fault.

It isn't your fault.

No, it isn't their fault either, but setting limits is ok.

You will find one day, that it is the kinder thing to do.

Crossing party lines.

I am a Diabeticrat. Or maybe a Diapublican.

Let's just say: I belong to the Diabetic Party.

If it doesn't relate to my agenda...I really don't give a rats bahookie.

I'm embedded in my world and if it effects my children, it effects me. And then I care.

That is how moms roll. Well...how this mom rolls anyway.

I know that there will come a time when I will widen my scope, and care about the recycling problem in our city, and the litter problem in the next...but right now...my children's most immediate needs are what is important.

Mess with them, and you mess with me.

Misunderstand their disease, and expect to be educated by me.

I'm walking through a diabetes swamp...and all I care about is keeping my children on higher ground. The issues that face my Diabetic Party direct my course.

My party objectives:
Keep my children alive.

Educate others.

Advocate for a future free of discrimination.

Further research and technological advances with financial and moral support.

Support all that are affected by our cause.

Hope. Endure. Try. Love.

Keep the faith.
That is where I am.

But this weekend I had an experience that knocked me into the world of another party completely. And for better or worse...the blinders were taken off.

This weekend I spent time with my best friends from my childhood. From age 5 to age 13 I spent most of my waking hours by the side of these sisters. Their mother was a second mother to me. She taught me so many lessons...the most important being: stand by what I think. She taught me my voice means something. I'll forever thank her for that.

My friends' mother...my second mother...died of Alzheimer's Disease a few years ago. She was too young, only in her 40's.

I'm sorry to say that until this weekend, I really didn't know what Alzheimer's really was. What caused it. What affect it had on the families...the caregivers...the people themselves. I had no idea how or why people could pass away from Alzheimer's.

It wasn't on my parties agenda...so I just didn't know.

Now I know.

Their party...the Alzheimer's Party...it is so much like my party it is very hard to discern between the two.

They have the very same objectives as my party.

And after hours of educating conversations between both their party brains and mine...lines became blurred. My intense focus widened. Kinda like I was driving in the dead of night and finally realized how to turn the brights on.

And it became clear to me for the first time...that I am not part of this elusive political sect after all...

I am part of a bigger picture.

The Human Party.

We are all human...and we should care about each other and the heartaches that we carry whether they be the same or completely different. Because even though the diseases we advocate for can be very different...in an eerie way...they really really are not.

We have all had friends drop out of our lives because they couldn't take the heat of this disease. We all have family that don't understand the roots of what we are fighting for. We all know that the world doesn't understand our heartache fully.

But what we sometimes don't know...or what we sometimes forget...is that there are others.

Others fighting their own war. Others hurting just as much as us.

I am guilty of this tunnel vision...I am so self righteous in my knowledge that Diabetes is HARD.

But you know what?

Alzheimer's is HARD.

Cancer is HARD.

Crohn's Disease is HARD.

Autism is HARD.

Cerebral Palsy is HARD.

Bagillions of others diseases and conditions are HARD.

Being human...suffering disease and loss is HARD.

I think it is ok to fight for our party. But I also think it is ok to cross party lines.

Because sometimes the most human...the most patriotic thing we can do...is put our arm around another human being and say..."I see that you are hurting. I'm so sorry. How can I help?"

I truly believe we will become a stronger party in doing so. Whatever your battle. Whatever your disease. Whatever your condition.

Right now, I have enough.

"On July 27 1921 two Canadian scientists at the University of Toronto,
Frederick Banting and Charles Best, successfully isolate insulin--a
hormone they believe could prevent diabetes--for the first time.
Within a year, the first human sufferers of diabetes were receiving
insulin treatments, and countless lives were saved from what was
previously regarded as a fatal disease. Diabetes has been recognized
as a distinct medical condition for more than 3,000 years, but its
exact cause was a mystery until the 20th century. At that time, the
only way to treat the fatal disease was through a diet low in
carbohydrates and sugar and high in fat and protein. Instead of dying
shortly after diagnosis, this diet allowed diabetics to live--for
about a year. A breakthrough came at the University of Toronto in the
summer of 1921, when Banting and Best successfully isolated insulin
from canine test subjects, produced diabetic symptoms in the animals,
and then began a program of insulin injections that returned the dogs
to normalcy. On November 14, the discovery was announced to the world.
On January 23, 1921, they began treating 14-year-old Leonard Thompson
with insulin injections. The diabetic teenager improved dramatically,
and the University of Toronto immediately gave pharmaceutical
companies license to produce insulin, free of royalties. By 1923,
insulin had become widely available, and the scientists were awarded
the Nobel Prize in medicine." ~ History.com

Today I want to say thank you to Banting and Best. I owe you a debt of gratitude deeper than the Precipices of the Grand Canyon.

Because of you...my boys can live.

Because of you...my boys can see, walk, laugh, and play.

Because of you...my boys can learn and go to school.

Because of you...my boys can jump and play sports. They can run and play with their friends.

Because of you...I count carbs...and take for granted daily how lucky I am to do so.

Because of you...I insert needles into my boys and don't even blink an eye, because I know it saves their life every time I do.

Because of you...we don't live in a hospital.

I take it all for granted. I think, "Where is the cure?" I think, "Why is this so hard?" I think, "My boys deserve better!"

But today, through these tears of thankfulness, I don't think those things at all.

Today I think, "It has been 90 years, why can't everyone afford and have access to insulin?" I think, "Why must families watch their child die because insulin is not available?" I think, "Even in the USA there are families struggling to keep insulin in the fridge."

I think, "Why is my family so blessed?"

Yes we have three boys who have Type 1 Diabetes. But I have a cabinet in my house that looks like this:


And I have insulin in my fridge...so much I almost cannot contain it:


Sure it is all just a few months in supplies...and sure, that is a sad thing in itself, but I feel overwhelmingly grateful that we have these advances.

YES, a cure would be nice...but in the meantime, I'm going to work on looking at what I have, rather than what I don't.

Because as it turns out...right now, what I have is more than enough.

The Four Seasons to Diabetes

The winter days, those are the ones that are like sticky notes glued to our memories. The rain that falls from our tear ducts...the snow that chills our hearts to our blessings. There are the storms that toss the numbers around. There are the calms that lay before the storms that can give us a false sense of security. But during this time of year, most of us know...we KNOW...that when the calm is there, then it is time to lie in wait for the storm. Every day anticipating the winds to turn everything upside down. Every day not trusting what is in our emergency preparedness brain. How bad will the storms be? The weather caster in our brain exaggerates the destruction of it all. The winter. We all have these winter moments...and the only thing that makes OK is moving on to another season.


Spring is when everything is coming up roses. (Or in this case, Tulips.) The basals are set right. The corrections are right. We feel we could swag an entire luau buffet with our eyes closed. Diabetes steps back...our children and their activities step forward. There is a sense of accomplishment and excitement. We roll your eyes at others drama. We wonder what all the fuss is about. We are drifting down a stream with little or no effort on our part. It is a beautiful thing that we all wish would last forever...but seasons change. And summer comes...


"Did someone turn up the heat? Is there a spotlight on me? Wait. Everyone thinks I got this thing but I'm so preoccupied with all the things I need to do to keep this family running, that I have no earthly idea how the sugars are trending, or what supplies need to be ordered. I'm so lost." There is no order, only chaos. Everything is ran in hast. The activities build, and children are occasionally left in others hands. You feel like you have no center. You second guess your swags...you second guess your brain. You wonder how anyone could trust you with this job in the first place. Pretend. We have to pretend we got this. It is a lonely and heat exhausting place to be. We yearn for relief.


And then fall comes. There is a beauty to fall that reminds us of spring. We start to view things in color rather than brown and white. The fall encourages us to look up...and know that we are here for a reason. Is anything perfect in the fall? No, it is unpredictable. But we accept that unpredictability as part of Our Diabetic Life. There is purpose to our step...the wind is at our back. We turn to family and friends to begin the celebrations of the season. We celebrate how far we have come. We are thankful that our children have healthy legs, healthy eyes, healthy hearts. We are grateful that they can run and laugh and enjoy life regardless of the occasional rain or heat. An old college roommate of mine put this quote on facebook, "Gratitude turns what we have into enough." That is what this season is all about.

What season are you in right now?

I am in Summer. Me thinks I need to be more grateful for what I have.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."

I blog, therefore I get free stuff.

I get emails once in awhile from companies that want me to try their stuff. At first I thought this was SO COOL and then realized that most of the "stuff" I was getting wasn't so yummy or cool after all. (Sad face.)

But when I got the call from Blue Bunny to try their ice cream, well HOT DANG! I'm not going to say no to ice cream! The SAME DAY I got a note from VBlast, asking me to try their new vitamin beverage. I figured, I said yes to the ice cream, might as well give these a whirl too.

In exchange, I said I would give a review, but they both knew that I would be honest...and say what I really truly thought. I'm not getting paid or anything. But as I said in my title...I did get these samples for free.

So here you go...my really truly real true thoughts...

Blue Bunny ice cream sent me these "Sweet Freedom" snack sized ice cream cones, and ice cream sandwiches. They have "no sugar added" so therefore they are diabetes friendly, right? Maybe. They have the ingredient, "Sucralose," which is famous for not being so friendly on my diabetics' tummies.

Luckily, these babies were little enough not to cause any harm whatsoever to our digestive systems. Not a huge fan of sugar alcohols, but a little bit once in awhile is ok with me. Another reason I bring up sugar alcohols is that all the boys went low after eating these bad boys. I bolused straight for the carbs, but as I learned from Wil over at Diabetes Mine, I needed to subtract the fiber and 1/2 the sugar alcohols from the total carbs. That is what happens when you are a sugar alcohol rookie like me. Well, now I know. :)



I have to say though, the ice cream cones were REALLY yummy. I snuck one for a snacky snack the other night and enjoyed every bite. I would like to say the same about the ice cream sandwiches, but I can't. Only because I didn't have one...the boys ate them too fast! They LOVED them. In fact they just asked for me to buy more. So I guess that is a win! They are tiny, they are good...I can't help but recommend!

The other product I received was VBlast. It is Spring Water with Vitamins in the cap. When you twist the cap the vitamins and flavor is released, which they claim keeps everything more potent.

First impression was, how the heck does this thing work? We twisted, nothing happened. We twisted more. Nothing. Finally we twisted the cap all the way off and the color/vitamins flowed in.



J took the first taste and said it was disgusting. We found out later that the some of the potent flavor was still in the cap. Once we shook it and he tasted it again, he thought it was good. In fact we all thought the Strawberry Kiwi flavor tasted really good. We have sampled some others and liked them too. But here is the thing...da da dum! Sucralose...again. :( It is zero carbs though and kinda fun...and chalked full of vitamins...so that is something! We saw another product exactly like this at Costco yesterday...same square bottle too. Except the cap looked easier to use. It had ONE carb...but...here is the kicker, it tasted awful and had a bad after taste. So kudos for VBlast for tasting good!


I want to thank these companies for thinking my say means something. I know that more bloggers have Blue Bunny reviews coming soon, so keep an eye out! In fact, here is one by Heidi over at D-Tales...just click HERE.

Have a wonderful weekend my sweet peeps!

Haunting Heidi's Blog

Today I have the honor of guest posting at Heidi's blog, D-Tales. It is all about basal tweaking...and ghosts. You know, same ol same ol. :)



Heidi has a son with T1, and we became instant friends when we found each other. She is kind, strong, and a devoted friend. I'm so thankful she is part of my support system!

Don't be shy, stop by and see what all the fuss is about. We are boooolllUUUuuusSSing!

To get there, click HERE, or cut and paste this beauty into your browser: http://www.diabetes-tales.com/2011/07/booooolusiiiiiing-with-meri.html

Poop and Circumstance.

Sometimes POOP happens and there is nothing we can do to change that.

Sometimes our meter says HI and there is nothing we could have done to prevent it.

Because, as I tell my boys multiple times a week, "we don't have a crystal ball."

Circumstances are what they are.

Tirade: Do your kids come to you on the couch after eating a snack and ask, "How many carbs?" When you weren't even involved with making said plate full of carbs? Mine do. All the time. Hence the "I don't have a crystal ball" comment. "You have to actually TELL me what you ate."

(Would be nice, wouldn't it?)

Tirade two: Yes, sometimes my boys bolus after they eat. Don't have a heart attack. It is ok.

OK...back to the post!

As I was saying...sometimes numbers all hit the fan and we have to put on our big girl panties and just get the job done.

Sure...we go back in your heads and wonder what we could have done to prevent said poop. But here is the epiphany that I had yesterday...we can't go back in time.

We CAN'T.

Why do we try time travel in our brain? They are brains, not Deloreans.

Ok...If it is something that was within our control, I agree that thinking it over and planning a change in attack next time is a good thing. But sometimes...even A LOT of times...there is nothing we could have done. We can only go on our experience. So if doing that combo bolus worked for pizza last time, and then doesn't work this time...IT ISN'T "YOUR FAULT."

What is it about us that we want to blame ourselves for everything?

Seriously, it was overcast yesterday and I looked at my summer shirt and thought if I had worn a sweater, maybe it would have been sunny...I. HAVE. A. PROBLEM.

Basals run amuck? MY fault. Even though they aren't.

Child forgot to check his sugar before he ate? My fault. Even though my brain can only think for so many people at one time...

Are you following me?

I'm not sure I'm following me.

Where is this all coming from? Yesterday L was HI. (Why my meter says HI and not HIGH is beyond me.)

Was his set bad? Yesseree! We changed it out, and he went down.

Well, he DOVE down.

Stunk for him. Stunk for me. Stunk all around.

And today I felt an overwhelming sense of urgency to just, get it right. A NEED to keep his numbers in perfect range. See: Guilt. See: Not as easy as it seems.

And then I stopped and epiphanied my epiphany that I can't go back and change what happened. I can only look forward. I can only work forward.

So poop happens. And so does the circumstance. But we need to remember...we are human. We are not magic. We cannot control our kids sugars with our minds. We cannot WILL a set not to fail.

We need to learn from our mistakes, and forget the things that we had no control over. Deciding which is which can be tricky. But...I think if we search our hearts...we know.

We always know.

It IS our fault.

LOL! Just kidding. SOMETIMES it is our fault. But SOMETIMES it is not our fault.

It can all be just poop and circumstance for sure.

The one where I rant...

Do I care too much?

Am I weird? (Wait, don't answer that...)

When I see a child suffer, a little piece of me dies. I wonder how others can just shut it off. Block out the sadness, the helplessness...the caring.

Those that work in the medical field...I know they see it every day. I know that they see suffering, and in order to cope they need to look at things logically rather than emotionally.

But there is a fine line between professional courtesy and blatant don't-give-a-damn.

When B was at the doctor on Monday he was suffering. He was shivering. He was moaning. He was spitting in a cup because he wouldn't swallow. His throat pain was unbearable...you could see the suffering all over his face. Heck, you could see it all over his body.

I am not one to take my kids to the emergency room willy nilly. I've handled the worst of sick days on my own. But on Monday...that day...while sitting in that waiting room, I contemplated bringing him.

I just couldn't handle SEEING him like that.

I'm pretty sure I would welcome being thrown into a pit of wild honey badgers, rather than seeing my child suffer like that.

Yes. Really sure.

And as we waited for the pediatrician for almost an hour...my swelly brain almost burst from my skull. When I checked in they said it would be no more than 5 minutes. But an HOUR later? He was huddled into the crook of my elbow...tears in his eyes...whimpering.

Fully 6 nurses were standing around. Eating their snacks. Telling their jokes. Bringing other patients back. They all glanced over with no concern or wonder whatsoever.

Patients went in and out. We sat alone in the waiting room most of the time.

Don't you think if you were a nurse, and you saw a child obviously in SO much pain, you would have tried to comfort him, or at the very least his mother who is crying next to him?

I finally asked what the what, and they said, "OH! I think the nurse is here now...we'll get you in."

Too late. B was running to the bathroom, throwing up.

We came out of the bathroom, both of us a mess of tears.

Did they apologize for taking so long?

Did they say, "I'm so sorry B, I know you are miserable, we'll do everything we can to help."

No.

All it would have took to make me feel better earlier was, "I'm sorry...we are still waiting for the nurse. We'll get you in as soon as she gets here." Maybe an explanation why the other nurses couldn't help him?

Any word would have helped. Just some kind of confirmation that they SAW us!

It was confirmed 100% in a two second check that he had strep.

And then we were sent to the pharmacy.

We waited an hour in the pharmacy. Replay the exact same scene above. Throwing up and all.

Did the doctor not send our prescription over? Were they too busy? We watched the pharmacy fill and empty a full four times over. Were we invisible??

When I went up twice to ask, all the guy at the counter did is fill out a piece of paper and ask me to sit down, he would call me.

But he never did.

When I went up again, 1 hour and 15 minutes later, he found B's prescription just sitting there.

He grabbed the bag, rung it up and said, "$14.35."

No, "I'm sorry it took so long."

No, NOTHING.

Two words...I'm sorry. That is all it would have taken to make me feel better.

But not even one word...

Not one word of apology.

Because they suck all the time?

Because apologizing to me would be them admitting they failed?

I'm scared it is because they just didn't care.

Am I crazy?

Is this what the world has come to? Have the true crazies ruined it for everyone...so half way normal people like me get no empathy?

Do I just care to much?

Maybe...maybe I do. How the good Lord made me a parent to three T1's is beyond me. I cannot STAND to watch my children, or other children suffer. I can't cope with it. There has to be a reason I'm the mother to these children.

In a world where ambivalence rules and compassion is a lost art, I have to wonder if I received my calling as a D Mother to see the needs of others clearer.

And if that IS the case...I hope I do not waste this gift.

I hope to have the courage to put my hand on the shoulder of one in need, or to be a listening ear to those whose soul is heartbroken.

I hope to look past the hard shell of those that have put up walls after years of trials and aloneness.

I hope I will be one to step up.

I hope I won't take the easy road, and just look the other way.

Because if I...someone who sees suffering so clearly, give up to complacency...it would seem that all I have experienced has been for naught.

Every human being deserves a bit of understanding.

I have the capacity to care...we all do.

It is up to all of us to exercise it.

Even those in the medical profession.

(Wait! Where did this soapbox come from?)

Playing at Heather's House/Blog

Sorry I have been MIA. B is in the throws of another bout with strep...and it isn't pretty. I have an entire blog post in my head about our trip to the doctor and me being one hair away from going ape mom on those pharmacists...time will tell if that beauty will see the light of day. But B is finally feeling better enough to eat breakfast today, so we are moving forward!

I did have time to whip together a guest post for my amazing friend Heather!

Her blog is Sweet to the Soul, and that describes Heather PERFECTLY! I know it is supposed to pay homage to her girls...but you know what? Their Mama deserves the title as much as they do!




So pop by HERE: http://sweet2thesoul.blogspot.com/2011/07/simple-guest-post.html and see what I have to say about freedom, letting go, and trust.

Hope your numbers are all kinds of wonderful today!

Daring myself to keep it short.

Man...I could write forever. I think I could sit down and just write and write and write.

Yeah, I totally get that sometimes my blogs go on and on and on.

Sometimes!

(Okay! A lot of times!)

But I wanted to say hello and let you know how proud I am of me.

Yeah. You heard it right. ME!

I let my two oldest guys go on an airplane to Washington without me.


Yay me!

Sure I spent three hours almost throwing up while their plane was delayed, stuck on the tarmac.

Sure I almost burst into tears that would surly have overflowed the Pacific Ocean while J texted me 100 messages telling me how sucky it was...

But. I. Didn't.

And THAT my friends...is something.

I'm so good at "internal" freak outs these days...I can almost go pro.

If there was a "D Mama's Got Talent," I would totally try out.

I would stand on that stage while my oldest T1 left for Scout Camp and I wouldn't even flinch. I know. Not everyone has tear ducts of steel like me.

So on a compeltely unrelated topic, (not,)...J is coming home tomorrow...and then REALLY leaving two days later for 9 days at scout camp.

But whatever.

I've done it before. He's done it before.

No biggie.

...

...

I think I'm going to go bang my head against a wall now.

Internally, of course.

Aren't you glad I kept it short?

Wait...is this short?