Tuesday, November 29, 2011

I reject the reality, and substitute my own.

In reality, I should be rocking in a corner with drool running down the side of my mouth.

But in my own world, It's all good.

In reality, I should be completely bald from pulling my hair out.

But in my own world, I got this covered.

In reality, my pointer finger should be running up and down my lips...you know, like crazy people do in the movies?

But in my own world, I smile at the absurdity of it all.

In reality, I should be like a broken record screaming to God, "Three? Really? THREE!!!!"

But in my own world, I thank the good Lord for my many blessings each and every day.

In reality, I should have a therapist at my disposal 24 hours a day, 7 days a week...including and especially holidays.

But in my own world, all the therapy I need is drinking hot chocolate with friends who I know, "get it."

In reality, I should be a shut in. My boys should never leave the house and I should have a giant magnifying glass on them every minute of every day.

But in my own world, we live.

In reality, the technology that is there is not enough. I want more. I want a cure.

But in my own world, I'm thankful for every little thing we have to fight this disease. Including but not limited to, insulin, test strips, pumps, cgm's, ketone strips, 3 second countdowns and apple juice.

In reality, my heart should not be beating. The heartache should have shut it down long ago.

But in my own world, my heart swells with love for my children, my husband, my family and each of you who are the "same," who feel the "same."

In reality, there should be a bruise front and center on my forehead, marking the spot where I bang my head all the live long day trying to figure out basals and ratios.

But in my own world, I know...somewhere deep down...that I can do this.

The problems come only when the lines between the reality and my own world fade. Navigating the fog back to my own world can be a neat trick sometimes...but I always get there.

I like my world better than the real one.

Because in reality, I am the mother to four boys, three who have type one diabetes.

And in my own world...the three may have diabetes, but diabetes doesn't have them.

(Day 29 of National Health Blog Post Month is complete. Ya know I'm doing in honor of Diabetes Awareness Month. Tomorrow is the last day! Woo to the Hoo!)


  1. Grinning up here.
    Thanks for my smile this evening.

  2. I love that line "diabetes doesn't have them." Love your optimistic viewpoint on life.

  3. Beautiful...thanks for putting it all in perspective. You are very blessed!

  4. Bless your heart. You do have a great attitude, Meri! : )
    And I sometimes wonder if I'm getting away with something living on the "outside" too! ; ) Some days I feel crazy on the inside! ..But we make it. You do an amazing job! Hugs, girl!

  5. I love this blog. I was diagnosed with Type 1 as a 44 year old! I worry alot for my son... I am finding that low carb diet is soooo helpful for me and I am just starting to blog myself. Thx for all that you give all of us Meri!

  6. Your posts always leave me misty-eyed, awed, and wondering how I can get what you're on. Seriously, awesome post!

  7. A) I want to live in your world.
    B) You are so positive and your posts have been inspirational to.
    C) I for one am said the daily posts are done!

  8. I agree. Thanks for putting these thoughts into writing!

  9. New reader here and this is the first post I've read and I'm in tears - big, snotty, sobbing, ugly tears. My son, a.k.a. Scooter, was diagnosed in early February 2 weeks after he turned 5 and on the eve of my hubby's 40th b-day. Spending a b-day in PICU sucks.

    After 5 days in hospital, we were given the Children's Diabetes Clinic # and told to call it anytime for any reason from carb ratios, to lows, to .... , and to just cry and say it was a bad D day.

    But we didn't call. We didn't need to - mostly. We figured things out and yes it was scary at first knowing our kid has a life-threatening illness that could seriously be life-threatening on any given day, but we did it. We do it. I have called the Clinic maybe 3 times since dx, but that's it. And we've called his personal diabetes doctor 3-4 times since she gave us her cell #. We only call if we've had 10 severe lows in a week.

    Point is, we've managed and put it in stride and we do tell Scooter, "You might have diabetes, but diabetes doesn't have you, does it? Did your name suddenly get changed from Scooter to Diabetes?" He's 5, he giggles every time we say that.

    Why the sobbing? Today was the first time I've called the Clinic just to cry and sob that I hate diabetes. The nurse I spoke with was one of our CDEs in hospital & I love her. Scooter just got a pump 2 wks ago and I no longer call it Bolus Wizard b/c it's not that qualified to be a Wizard. I call it Mr. Magic. One trick pony. Scooter had Kindergarten this a.m. as usual and he dropped from 367 to 76 in one hour and twelve minutes. I talk to his PDA and do (what we call) Diabetic Calculus in my head and had her give him 23 carbs. (He's a 1:25 ratio, but if he's below 80 he drops hard & fast and is very difficult to bring up.)

    That was my last straw. That's when I called the Clinic. Last night I had to do a site change by myself for the first time and the stupid reservoir plunger thingie broke and insulin went flying everywhere. Our PDA (whom we adore) is most likely going to have to move for her husband's job in a few months and I don't know where to find a new one.

    Scooter has been simultaneously dealing with a bully (the kind that shoves him down the slide when he wasn't planning on going there & twists his hand nearly backwards on the bus and generally makes me want to show up at his house and slug him. That's not very grown up, but a mama bear protects her cubs. I got the school counselor involved instead.) & he's been dealing with this new pump that floats him in the 300-400s for hours and then tosses him to 32. He's my sweet tough little nut and he never complains.

    But today my dam burst and I complained and then I felt a little better and then I found you.

    Thank you for sharing your world. I have the same bruises on my forehead and the same belief that we will get there, too. Thanks also for letting me share my day. I guess I still needed some venting.

    I'm going to print out this post and put it on my fridge. In the middle. Right where it belongs.

    Hugs to your sweet peas.

  10. I love, love, love this. IMHO JUST the way a D family has to live. Look, there are times I want to curl up in a ball . . . but trying to be the way you describe means my daughter has had a fantastic life so far (despite some challenges like hospital runs and highs at bad times and nagging from her mom). I so admire this take. THANK YOU!

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  12. Bravo Meri. I will miss your daily blogs. --Roxanne (Don't know why it's calling me Unknown)

  13. Your world sounds like a nice place to be!


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