I had a nightmare last week. I dreamt that Chase died from a low blood sugar.
Startled awake, I told myself, "It was just a dream. He's okay. Go back to sleep." Then that other voice in my head questioned, "What if it's not a dream? What if you're supposed to wake up and check him?" So, at 5 in the morning, I crawled into bed next to him and listened to him breath. It was a beautiful sound. Adam Levine could have been in the room singing a ballad just for me and I would still rate the sound of his breath the most wonderful sound in that room.
Relieved, I just lay there listening. Then I realized that I've become the mother in the book Love You Forever. It is inevitable that I will someday drive my car across town with a ladder strapped to the top. I will crawl across the floor of his bedroom, and if he is asleep, really asleep, I will rock him and sing, "Love you forever, like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you will be." That somewhat creepy book made sense in that very moment.
Later that day I relayed my dream to Gary. We talked diabetes for a little bit and then he said, "You might want to see what Chase wrote on the calendar."
As I read "Worst day ever in 2005" written on November 29th, my first thought was, "Damn you diabetes. You win today." Then I listened to what Gary told Chase. He told him, "You could look at it as the worst day ever, or you could look at it as the day we finally found out what was wrong. It was the day we knew how to make you feel better. It was the day your life was saved. It is a day to celebrate."
Even though we are closing in on our 8 year diabetes anniversary, we are still a work in progress. It can cut, it can sting, but when we unite, it doesn't win.
And, united, will continue to dream of a cure.
