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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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)))

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.

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.

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.

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!

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!

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

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...

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.

The Talk

It’s been a long time coming. I’ve been putting it off because it is heartbreaking and hard. But it was time. J needed to hear it.

J has been “forgetting” to check his sugars all year at school. He often calls me at lunch and says, “I’m 330 Right Now.” He forgets to check before snack. He forgets to bolus for his snack. He forgets to check BEFORE he eats lunch. And then calls me after lunch with info on what he ate and his blood sugar in the aftermath of it all. I try to gently as possible make my point. I tell him it is not healthy for his body. That it isn’t safe. That he is hurting himself. He just doesn’t get it.

Hence…THE TALK.

I sat him between my husband and me. He asked if we were going to talk about something serious.

I said yes.

I explained to him that it is a new year. Things are going to change. He is almost a teenager and more than able to take care of himself. When he was younger, I did it all for him. And he was fine with it. He wasn’t embarrassed if I called in the middle of class to remind him to check. He wasn’t embarrassed of me poking my head into class to get his carb amounts after lunch. But he is now. So if he doesn’t want me embarrassing him, then he needs to step up. Because for now on, if he doesn’t check…I WILL call…I WILL stop by. Not because I WANT to embarrass him, but because I love him.

The hardest part was explaining to him the damage he could be doing to himself. I had to tell him that diabetes will eat you alive if you ignore it. I had to tell him that he could lose his vision...that every organ in his body depends on him taking care of himself. I wasn’t too detailed or graphic, but I made my point.

I told him he could lead a healthy happy life….all he needed to do while he was at school was check his sugar at certain times of the day…and bolus before he puts any food in his mouth. I explained to him I have told him time and time again and I don’t know what to do anymore.

He said, “No mom, you have never told me this. I get it now. I can do it.”

We programmed his new watch to alarm right before snack time and right before lunch. I told him I don’t care if you are in the middle of a test, or on the other side of campus doing PE. When that alarm goes off. You go test. Period. And for the first month he must text me at both times with his number.

I hate demanding. I hate it. But what else is a mom to do? Sure, his last A1C was a pretty good 7.2, but he needs to learn good habits now. It’s not healthy. And what if he was low…it is scary not to know what is going on.

I would love to get him a CGM. But so far our insurance isn’t jiggy with it.

So we do what we have to do. I'm dying inside. I love him so much.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings…

To all my D Mom friends...

To my D Momma's out there. I thought I would throw this your way. I propose that this be our song for the month,(or year...I'm OK with monopolizing all 12 months.) Honestly...it doesn't have to be officially sworn in during our chat or anything...but I think of all of you out there whenever I hear this song. (Which is a lot when I am on the treadmill.)

So...without further ado...for you...

(And if you don't like Glee...get over it, it is a great song!)

Interviews From Our Diabetic Life

J, age 12

Meri: What is the worst thing about having diabetes?

J: Having to give myself insulin after meals, and having to ask you for carb amounts.

Me: Then count the carbs yourself…

J: I can’t.

Meri: Then learn. You already count really good…you just need practice.

J: Whatever mom…

Meri: What is the best thing about diabetes?

J: Easy, eating when I’m low.

Meri: How is it dealing with diabetes at school?

J: I forget to check myself and I get mad at myself.

Meri: If your friend got diabetes, what would you say to him?

J: It’s OK; it’s really not that big of a deal.

B, age 8

Meri: What is the worst thing about diabetes?

B: Having to test my sugar when I’m in the middle of a video game.

Meri: What is the best thing about diabetes?

B: Getting to eat at random times in the day. Having a cool pump, it’s like a video game and my friends think it is cool.

Meri: How is dealing with diabetes at school?

B: I really don’t like being the last out to lunch sometimes, and the table is full, so I have to sit on the bench with the sun in my eyes.

Meri: Honey, you should check yourself earlier than the lunch bell, you can check anytime in class.

B: I know, but I forget.

Meri: What would you tell a friend who just got diabetes?

B: Don’t.

Meri: Well if they get it, they have no choice…what would you say to them?

B: I would help them check their sugars…I really don’t know…I would tell them to get an alert dog because they are so cute and fun!

L, age 6

Meri: What do you think about diabetes?

L: It is great!

Meri: Is there anything bad about diabetes?

L: No! I have a pump and it keeps me safe. My insulin makes me run fast and super zoom.

Meri: What else is good about diabetes?

L: I like being healthy. I like putting the carb number in my pump. My pump has zebra stripes on it.

Meri: What is diabetes like at school?

L: I like it when you come to see me to check my sugars, even J.

Meri: If your friend got diabetes what would you say to him?

L: I love you.

M, age 14 (The non diabetic brother)

Meri: What do you think of diabetes?

M: I don’t like it of course…it’s a disease. It isn’t something you hate or anything…it’s like a thorn in your side. Just something that is always there.

Meri: Do you think you brothers get more attention than you, because of their diabetes?

M: Of course not!

Meri: What about when you were younger, did you sometimes feel J got more attention than you?

M: Maybe in the beginning, but not really, no.

Meri: How does diabetes affect YOU?

M: I don’t get to eat all the sugar I want…but that would probably be the case even if there wasn’t diabetes in the family.

Meri: Do you feel sorry for your brothers?

M: It’s scary how sickness can make things go crazy. I worry about them sometimes. Especially when I was younger and J was in the hospital sometimes. But generally, it’s not much of a worry. Now that they are on pumps it doesn’t seem to be a really big deal. I hate it when they have to get shots, or their pumps put in, but they are used to it now. L didn’t even flinch at his flu shot! I thought “WOW! He is awesome!”

Meri: Do you think you are strong enough to have diabetes?

M: No, I don’t think so.

Meri: What makes you think you brothers are stronger than you?

M: I don’t like the idea of feeling high or low, and feeling sick, OR getting shots all the time. If I had gotten it when I was young I would have been terrified. My brothers are awesome. I don’t know how they do it.

(A little perspective for me. I'm really glad I got the boys watches with alarms on them for school. It is definitely the little inconveniences that bother my boys the most.)

The many faces of our diabetic life...circa 2009

Meri's Christmas

I have been MIA and I am sorry. :( I have missed so much. I was able to get glimpses of blogs and FB posts here and there, but having Christmas with all 4 boys home has left me very little “me time." I’ve been forced to sleep in most mornings, and by the time we have breakfast and get dressed, my hubby’s home from work (early this past week,) and then we are out the door for some fun.

I know...Poor me.

My husband has gotten into the habit of calling my blogger time my “work." I’ll be on the computer and he’ll come in and say, “Oh! I didn’t realize you were working. How much longer until your work is done? Leave mom alone…she is working!” And the boys have all jumped on board too…”What time will you be done with work mom, we want to go to the park!”

But this morning my friends, THIS MORNING….I am alone! My sister in law kidnapped the boys last night for a sleep over and the hubby and I went to dinner and a movie. He had to leave for work at 3:00 this morning, so I have woken up to silence. I have the Christmas tree on, the shutters closed and a big cup of hot chocolate by my side.

{Big deep sigh}

I’ve got a lot of “work” to do…but I feel lazy.

So, in my laziness, I will put my thoughts into list form.

Five Bits of Meri Christmas Info...

1) My boys were spoiled. I thought getting a laptop for them would make my life easier. (They are always stealing mine.) But alas…It is making my brain explode. I have to monitor everything they do… (I’m over protective that way,) and it seems they are growing up way too fast. My oldest asked if he could download some of my husband’s old CD’s…sure…well I found next to his laptop Pink Floyd and 3 Led Zeppelin CD’s. I’m not ready for this people!

2) I was spoiled. I got a flash for my SLR camera…and it is HUGE. It is now named Gigantor. I also got a little point and shoot camera for my purse and a sweet necklace with all our names on it. LOVE IT!!!

3) I found out the hard way that I cannot bolus correctly for poured chocolate fudge cake. I failed that one miserably. I thought I was being aggressive…but it turns out, I was a mamby pamby. :(

4) A good bit of advice, If there is family drama that is not immediately in the room, but playing out thousands of miles away…a good family board game will bring back the Christmas spirit!

5) Lastly, I discovered if you failed miserably bolusing for a certain dessert one night, over blousing for everything else the next day will not make it better. Chasing lows sucks. Not that I did this…not that I didn’t do this…Ok yes I did this. I’m not claiming to be a genius. (Lawton was happy though…he alerted a record number of times and received his rewards in full.)

SO there ya go…a little insight about what has been going on with little ol’ me. We had a really wonderful low key Christmas.

On a side note, I do know about the myriad of surgeries going on today, on New Year’s Eve, and coming up soon…and I want you all to know that I am praying for you. Especially today for Kelly and her Father. I am thankful for who you all are…for the love and laughter you have brought into my life. Together our prayers can make a difference. My thoughts are with you.

Hoping for a merry little Christmas

I heard this song yesterday and it made me think of all of you.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
our troubles will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.

Through the years
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

Troubles out of sight…troubles miles away?

We can hope…right?

I can remember…man I feel old…I can remember YEARS when J’s diabetes didn’t rule our lives. There were years when he was dialed in, years that he didn’t need many basel changes. His insulin to carb ratio was 1 unit for 20g of carbs for almost 4 years. He was checking his own blood sugar…he was blousing himself. I know it is hard to fathom for those of you who have little ones…but honestly, diabetes was no big deal.

Everyone is different. I don’t know you-know you…so I can’t promise the same for you…but I CAN promise that there will come a time when the worry will sit with you, rather than do jumping jacks on your head all the time. (Hello, we’ve all had pounding worry headaches!) Better times are to come. I always say, the first year is the hardest…well the following 3 years ain’t that great either…but things will settle a bit…and life will become life again, not just a diabetic life, but a family life.

Now that I have three diabetics…I yearn for the days of calm. I know they exist…and when I get a week of good numbers I can’t help but sigh, a happy remembering sigh. I remember the calm and I remember the storms…but honestly…my brain is a little fuzzy remembering all the details. When those of you need help…baby diabetes help…my brain is like HUH? I can’t remember…I’ve blocked it out. It is like the pain of childbirth…you know you endured it, but the joy of having a happy child trumps all the bad…all the work…and all the sleepless nights. I personally, try not to dwell on the hard times. I’m probably a hopeless optimistic but I won’t let diabetes make the boys lives miserable…and I make an effort not to let them see me completely miserable simply because diabetes threw us a curve ball. Sure, diabetes can be tragic…but not in my home. In my home it’s like doing the laundry. It’s just something that has to be taken care of.

Was I always this way? No. When I was in the thick of it I cried for months at a time. But I’ve come through that and now I am on the other side. I like it better here. :) I look at it all differently. I try to keep the guilt at bay. I look at my boys and I think, if they are happy…I should be happy.

Maybe I am lucky. Maybe my boys are different. But I don’t think so. As my boys have gotten older, they don’t complain about diabetes. Children have a way of accepting and acclimating…especially those diagnosed early on. The guilt will ebb a little as you see how strong they are. Diabetic children are a special breed. They accept easily…they have empathy for others…they learn responsibility at a young age…they appreciate the little things.

I always say…one day at a time. But don’t stop yourself from looking down the road. The sunrise is always in the distance my friends. Keep an eye towards the horizon…you will find your hope.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pancreas

If I wrote a screenplay with the above title, I wonder if I would have copyright issues...

Last night our family attended my oldest son’s music concert at the high school. Our entire family came out in force. Not only did my husband and I go with all of our boys, but so did both sets of grandparents.

Ryan and I were the last in the auditorium, and as I went to meet my family, I found my mother in law sitting next to my favorite D Mom in town, (who is also my favorite coffee/hot chocolate date.)

As we chatted about the kids, my three diabetics wrangled some dollar bills from my husband, and went to the bake sale to get some goodies. (Something that would hopefully keep them happy for part of the long concert that was ahead of us.)

L came back with a little cupcake.

J came back with a medium size cupcake.

B came back with a blueberry muffin. A sensible choice one would think…except it wasn’t…this muffin was as big as his head.

My d friend and I laughed. A comfortable, knowing laugh. Then we traded guesses on the carb amounts of this mondo-sized muffin.

We decided on 80g, but I only gave B the go ahead to eat half of it. Which he did. Meticulously nibbling and trying to get it to exactly half.

He ended up going low less than an hour later…maybe due to the fact that this muffin was actually 71 carbs…but probably more due to the fact that I over bloused him for the pot roast I made that night.

So he ate it all.

And to watch this boy eat it was like watching a cat catch a mouse. The joy was undeniable.

Also undeniable was the overwhelming feeling I had sitting next to my friend last night. I felt warm….I felt good…

I felt NORMAL.

Generally sitting in a group like that, I don’t feel like I fit in. I’m not the same as these people. My life is complicated. But last night it was different. I wasn’t conscious of the blood sugar monitor I had clipped to my belt loop…I fit in. Isn’t that why we cry when we get Christmas cards from other D moms? Because for a moment, we fit in. These D moms live similar lives…they more than anyone know what our days are like, and although we are not misfits by any means…there is always an underlying emotion that those in our communities don’t 100% know us, or anything of the constant worry that sits with us.

We can blend in…but fitting in is another story.

We are the Sisterhood of the traveling pancreas…or pancreata, (or pancreases…They both show to be correct in the online dictionaries. :)

We are a special breed.

We are mobile pancreata…now, how many people can say that?

I just can't help it.

You wouldn’t believe it…but things have been calm here on the western front. All my diabetics are pretty dialed in, and I’m in my snug/happy/comfortable place…the place I stay before the next storm comes in.

I think this all lends to my writers block. I’ve been seriously stuck.

Regardless of my stuckedness…I have been in my own little world lately, reflecting on diabetes and how it has taken over our lives. I’ve been so preoccupied with it, I even found it hard to listen to the dear man speaking at the pulpit yesterday at church. It’s just; I couldn’t take my eyes off J’s fingers. I would trace each fingertip, feeling the roughness of his calluses. Remembering back to the years of checks we had to do…sometimes many in a one hour period when he was very little. I could see which fingers he favored…his thumbs untouched by the lancet. I thought of him growing up and married. I thought of the things they will have to face as a couple with a Type 1 Diabetic as patriarch. The insurance problems…the worry his wife will endure during the lows…

And even with all of this, I couldn’t help but smile. It goes against my dreary diabetic outlook, but somewhere deep down, I feel like there will be a breakthrough in the future that will make his, and my other diabetics, lives easier. Maybe it’s the time of year…maybe I’m in denial…but I have hope.

Hope.

No, not necessarily for a cure…but hope for help. Hope for a better way to handle their diabetes. A miracle of sorts. I mean just 8 years ago, insulin pumps were new to young children. Now it is the go to treatment at UCSF no matter what the age. Things change. And with diabetes…things will change for the better. Maybe it will be a Continuous Glucose Monitor that is accurate, and fingers will be able to heal. Maybe it will be a new magic insulin that knows how much to release, and we won’t need to count carbs. Maybe it will be an islet breakthrough. I don’t know. But something is coming… something wonderful.

At least that is what I keep telling myself.

I think that someday we will look back and wonder how we did it with such crude and barbaric tools. The genius of today will give out to the genius of tomorrow.

And when this happens…I won’t be bitter. I won’t be upset that I didn’t have these magic tools when they were young. I will be grateful, and I will see them as answers to our prayers. All our prayers have to be making a difference…right?

The wheels are turning. Progress is being made. Not as fast as we would like, but time isn’t standing still…and everyday something new is discovered.

Until then, I want to offer this…

Ladies, we are being watched over. When we feel alone, we are not. We have angels to help us…I really believe that. I also believe that our prayers are heard, and the good Lord is smiling at our impatience. He knows we will be ok. He knows our children will thrive no matter what the circumstances.

Help will come.

I just can’t help but hope.

I won! I really won!

Thanks Lora for this sweet award. :)

As a condition for receiving this award, I’m supposed to write about 5 things that I love. Easy peasy lemon squeezy…

1) My husband. He is goofy, loving, supportive and works like a dog to keep this family going. There aren’t a lot of things I can count on in life…but Ryan is one thing I CAN count on. He is my everything…my partner in crime…my partner for life.

2) M. The first thing he asks me when he gets in the car after school is, “How was your day Mom?” He is as good as a 14 year old can get. It pains me to watch him grow up so quickly, and sometimes I feel like I haven’t really ‘spoken’ to him in days…but he still kisses me goodnight…and he still says “I love you” first when ending a phone call with me.

3) J. He hugs me every day. He still calls me Mama. He still calls me ‘gorgeous.’ He has had a very hard time remembering to check his blood sugars at school this year. Last week I told him I would text him to remind him and then he can text me his number back. Since texting is cool…this has been a HUGE success. He always texts me right back with his number. He also still tells me he loves me at the end of phone calls.

4) B. He doesn’t hug…he leans. But when he kisses you, it’s a wet one for sure. He skips; he laughs at everything…he loves life. He eats every bite of his lunch everyday…which makes it uber easy to count carbs for him. He wants to be 12 like his big brother, which I think leads to his responsible nature.

5) L. He is a miracle. From the day he was born he has only been a blessing in our lives. He talks our ears off, he is constantly up to something…and always has some kind of project going. Every day I see his growth. He gives THE BEST hugs and tilts his head when he is telling you something important. He is the model kindergartner…he can concentrate and be silly at the same time.

So without further ado…5 friends who I would like to pass this very prestigious award on to…who can just make a list and not write a novel like me if they super really don’t want to do this…are…

Megann at My Life with Diabetes
Wendy at Candy Hearts
Joanne at Death of a Pancreas
Shannon at The Crazy-Good Life of Mommy Going Crazy
Kelly at Chasing Numbers