Endo Endo Bo Bendo...

Endo endo bo bendo, Banana fanna fo fendo, fe fi fo mendo….endo!

The Name Game! Come on, you’ve heard of it before! It makes everything sound so much nicer.

Needles needles bo beedles, banana fanna fo feedles, me my mo meedles…needles!

Maybe. Maybe I am crazy…

Yesterday was the big day…Our Endo appointment in San Francisco. I bathed the kids, made an early lunch and packed up J, B , L and the dog and headed out for the hour drive. My sweet sister in law came along to help keep the kids corralled. She is always there for me and I appreciate and love her more than she’ll ever know…but don’t be fooled by her sweet smile and helpful attitude…my sweet SIL comes with a catch. She doesn’t let me worry out loud. I began to talk about all the things I did wrong last month, and what the Endo was going to say… because I already knew…and she cut me off mid sentence and THREW our family motto in my face. “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.” I tried a couple more times to lament and she wouldn’t have any of it. “Meri, they love you there, they never say anything bad to you, and it will be fine!” So I changed the subject and we meandered our way through the freeway.

When we got to the tunnel, I held my breath and made my customary wish…”Please let their A1C’s be lower than I think they are.” (HEY! Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it!) We hit stopped traffic right before the Golden Gate Bridge because some insane people were parachuting next to the bridge to promote a cell phone company. Then we went up Divisidero street, (which scares the pants off me when I drive it because it is as steep as Mt Everest,) we passed the Walgreens my sister in law made an emergency run into when L peed his pants a couple years ago, and then made it to the Medical Building with 10 minutes to spare.

I should probably confess that I know that my sweet SIL is right; they do love me at the endo. Partly because J was my doctors first endo patient as a Fellow, partly because I have three diabetics and they feel sorry for me, and partly because we are usually on the same page and agree on most everything. Sometimes I feel like they see how fragile I am, so they sugar coat everything so that I won’t crack and have a breakdown in their office. I made a mental note yesterday to tell them to give it to me straight… how bad of a mom am I really? But in my heart I knew they would NEVER make me feel bad, no matter how hard I prodded. Going to my endo is always like having a family reunion. My endo always comes out to hug us before our appointment. (We’ve known each other 11 years and in that time she met her husband, married him and had two kids.) The nurses, the nutritionists, the social workers and receptionists all gathers round and chat. We talk about how big the kids have grown and reminisce. They take in each boy one at a time and do their work so they don’t mix them up, (which has happened before,) and then we meet with our team of people.

So then the big announcement…L’s A1C is 7.1 (I’ll take it!) J’s A1C is 7.2 (SOLD!) B’s A1C was 7.9…..GONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!Bad mom!!!!BAD MOM ALERT!!!!

WAIT! Rewind a little…not bad mom because of the number…it is what it is and it’s really fine to me, I know B needed changes and I will move forward with our changes and improve it….It is just…

7.1 and 7.2 are here………………………………………………………………………………………and 7.9 is over here.

Fast forward to my dream/nightmare last night when B asked me, “Mom, why don’t you love me as much as J and L? Why do they have better numbers than me?” (Reminder, he didn’t really say that, it was a dream,) but the sick self deprecating hallucination stayed with me this morning. So, I made B his favorite breakfast, hugged him a few extra times and now I plan to let it go.

Guilt guilt bo built, banana fanna fo filt, me my mo milt…Guilt!