I liked working next to Kevin. He was witty, charming, sarcastic, and way more warped than me. He was there for me in those first years of Chase's diagnosis. He patiently listened to many a diabetes adventure from me. For some reason, I remember telling him a story about my non-cooperative boy and a shot one day.
And here is the part that hurts.
Really hurts.
At the end of my "Chase was running from us and we had to pin him down to give him a shot" story, he shook his head and said, "I could never do that to my child." Now, if you know Kevin, you know how much he freak'n loves his kids. Although he is a teddy bear, I'm pretty sure he'd claw out your eyes (and other body parts) if you hurt his kids. And here's the crappy part, his son was diagnosed with type 1 almost two years ago.
Wrap your brain around that.
"I could never do that to my child." - I uttered that same damn sentence to myself many times while sitting in the hospital room with Chase. Insulin ratios, carb ratios, carb counting, how to draw insulin, how to give a shot...it was overwhelming. How was I going to do this to my child?
You quickly wrap your brain around the reality of the situation. You have to do it. They are counting on you. Amazingly, you find strength and courage you never knew you had.
In each and every:
shot,
finger poke,
carb counted,
doctor visit and blood draw,
pump site change,
504 meeting with the school,
midnight blood sugar checks
force fed juice or fruit snack
there is love for your child. Unconditional love. Love does come in a bottle.
Wrap your brain around that. I know Kevin and I can.
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