Saturday, September 18, 2010

An Even Trade


Certain family members (all of them except my brother) like to give me grief about my ability to get rid of "stuff" too easily. For me, a simple life with as little clutter as possible makes me happy. Recently, though, I had to give up an item that we've had in our possession for nearly 4 years and it made me rather melancholy.

We were having some delivery issues with Chase's insulin pump. The clinic urged us to call Medtronic since we were getting close to the end of our warranty. We figured out the no delivery issues, but ended up receiving a replacement pump since Chase's old pump was so scratched up that it was getting hard to see the numbers. The deal was that they would overnight us a new pump, but we needed to send them our old pump. I felt a lump in my throat at the thought of letting it go (I would have had to pay $3,600 to keep it, so the lump didn't last long).

Gary asked what I would do with the old pump if I could keep it. I told him that I would frame it and put it in his baby book with a heading "Baby's First Insulin Pump". Truthfully, when I looked at the old pump, I saw this little machine that allowed us to walk from the dark into the light. The first month Chase was on the pump, we saw dramatic improvements in his blood sugars, his energy levels skyrocketed, and he grew an inch! It also gave him the freedom to eat normally, to go to birthday parties, day care, school, you name it, with greater ease. Mostly, I think it was because Chase wore that pump 24/7, so in a way, I felt like I was giving up a piece of him.

Luckily, the new pump looks exactly like the old pump (we asked the Medtronic rep to please make sure that we didn't receive a pink pump or we'd we in for a world of hurt). We swapped the old for the new and life is back to normal.
Lately I've been slowly getting rid of the kids' baby items (crib, highchair, stroller). I've had some hesitation to getting rid of these items since they hold such great memories, but I know that there are other great memories awaiting us with other possessions.
And I know that if I'm patient enough, the dream of a cure will replace any feelings I have toward insulin pumps! For a cure is more important than any thing I own.

(Okay, I still do wish that I would have gotten to keep the old pump.)

Monday, May 10, 2010

A Retrospective - To the Moon and Back

We are closing in on the five year mark of Chase's diabetes anniversary. I have trouble remembering what I did yesterday, but I can remember that day in vivid detail. November 29th, 2005 - 8:30 AM.

On November 28th we put Chase to bed early. We were happy that he went down easily because he had to fast for his blood sugar test the next morning. Sitting next to Gary that night, I told him that we needed to be prepared for what seemed like the impossible chance that Chase had diabetes. Gary, being my forever optimist, tried to reassure me that Chase was okay.

The next morning, I took Chase into Public Health for his blood test. After the nurse pricked his finger, I looked at the glucometer - 348. I'll never forget what she said as she turned to me - "Your dad is diabetic, so you know what this means." With tears in her eyes, she hugged me. She wrote down the name of a doctor at Medcenter she recommended. I took the paper and walked out the door in a daze, too shocked to cry. I buckled Chase into his car seat and told him that he was going to be okay. Then I dialed Gary's cell phone and told him to meet me at Medcenter as soon as possible.

I had never been to Medcenter, so pulling into the large parking lot, I didn't know where to go. By the time I got to the registration line, Gary was there. Chase was able to get right into Dr. Kumar. From there, we were told he was to be admitted to the hospital. The nurse sent me to admitting while she took Gary and Chase to the hospital. I sat, for what seemed like hours, to admit Chase. It was excruciating to be away from my son.

By the time I made it over to the hospital wing, Chase was in a bed with bags of fluid attached to his tiny body. They told us to expect to stay 4 days in the hospital to figure out exactly how much insulin he was going to require and to rehydrate his body.

After we got situated in the hospital, I headed home to pack an over night bag for Gary and myself. On the drive I called my parents and left a sobbing message on their home phone. By the time I got to my house, I composed myself and decided to call my mom at work. I didn't want my dad to hear the message on their phone for fear of not knowing how Chase's diagnosis would affect him.

The next four days in the hospital are a bit of a blur. Maysil was introduced to us as the diabetes nurse educator and Kelly as the nutritionist. They told us that we would get to know them well since we would need to meet with them every 3 months. A few years ago, I admitted to Maysil that at the time, all I could think was, "You seem nice, but I do not want to know you."

We had a lot of friends and family visit during Chase's stay. It seemed like everyone that came to visit had the same look of disbelief. For those of you that knew Gary's dad, he didn't exactly wear his emotions on his sleeve. It was hard to see Gary's dad softly weeping into his hand as he watched a hysterically crying Chase receive an insulin shot.

In four days, Gary and I became nurses & nutritionists. We learned to test blood sugar, dilute insulin (Chase was too little to take regular insulin), and count carbohydrates. Taking him home from the hospital was like bringing home a newborn baby. We were on our own and we needed to figure it out on our own.

We still haven't figured it all out after 4 1/2 years, but it now is just a part of our lives. Sending Chase to kindergarten this year, was probably the hardest thing I've had to do since he was diagnosed. We'd been blessed with the world's best day care provider on the planet (I'm not exaggerating), so to turn him over to "new" people was terrifying. I cried on the walk home from the school after the parents' kindergarten orientation. I was totally and utterly jealous of the moms that could send their child to school and not have to worry about what I had to worry about. After the first week of school (and a 504 plan in place), I knew Chase was in good hands.

Being on an insulin pump has made Chase's transition into school much easier. We pretty much had him testing his own blood and entering his numbers before he entered kindergarten. He only needs to have help counting carbs. He's been getting pretty good at that, too. Recently, at breakfast, he ate a Toaster Strudel (not healthy, I know). He knew they are 26 carbs each. He asked if he could eat his sister's untouched Strudel. I said, sure. He pulled out his pump and said, "So, 52 carbs, right?" Now, if diabetes had done any good, it's that my kid is a genius when it comes to math!

He is a kid that I'm proud of for so many reasons. He has handled this disease with grace and courage. His is strong beyond his years. Every morning when I drop him off at school, we play this game -

Mom: "I love you, buddy."

Chase: "I love you, too, Mom."

Mom: "I love you, more!"

Chase: "I love you, more!" Then, he jumps out of the car, slams the car door and runs off laughing, thinking he has gotten the last word.

Mom: "I love you to the moon, and back."

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Breakfast, Leah Style

I hired a new helper in my kitchen. She's an animated little helper, too. Here she is making the the boys some Belgium waffles on Valentine's Day morning.


Smiling, because Mom is actually letting her play with flour.

So far, most of the flour remains in the bowl.

The master at work.

Did you want exact measurements?


This looks right.

Ooooooh, these are good.

Surprisingly, good!
They really were the best Belgium waffles that I've ever had. I think my helper has a permanent job in my kitchen.