All of our days are full of diabetes - testing reminders, carb counting, site changes, the glucagon battle, raising money for JDRF, diabetes support activities, and trips to the pharmacy. Certain days I throw my hands up in the air and say, "I'm so sick of diabetes!" Then I think of Chase's hands - hands that have been poked approximately 16,425 times.
I didn't get much time with Chase before diabetes entered our lives (aka our second child). He was still in diapers that fateful day 9 years ago. I've tried to forget the sounds of him crying during diaper changes because he thought he was going to receive a shot. At the time, I kept thinking about how I missed the part where hurting my child also equated to keeping him alive. They don't tell you that when you sign up for parenthood.
I began this blog 9 years ago to keep family and friends updated on his progress. At the time it was good and cheap therapy for me. Lately, I see it as something that has morphed into me muddling through parenthood. And I'm pretty sure I'm screwing my kids up somehow.
It's hard to draw a line between not letting diabetes rule our lives and ignoring the elephant in the room. What do you do when your child's blood sugar is 500 and he wants his favorite Sugar Bomb cereal for a bedtime snack? The elephant can't be ignored so I say, "How about cheese and summer sausage instead & a glass of water?" Head down and sad eyes he says, "Okay."
The old saying, "This hurts me more than it hurts you" is the life of a D parent. I hate the physical and mental pain I have to inflict on my child to keep away the real threats - amputations, heart, nerve, eye and kidney damage and death.
I have to nag the boy. A lot. Lately he's been having trouble remembering to give himself insulin for what he eats - which is a big problem because he LOVES to snack. Luckily, my kids are notorious for leaving out cereal bowls, yogurt containers, wrappers, etc. I know what the messy little buggers have been eating and this usually leads to, "Chase, did you give yourself insulin for the granola bar you ate?" His typical response is, "Oops, I forgot." Jokingly one day, I asked him if I should buy a shirt that says, "Did you give yourself insulin?" and wear it all the time so I'd never have to ask. A few days later, same scenario - wrapper on the counter and "The question". He looks at me and says, "Yeah, I think you need to buy that shirt."
His humor has gotten ME through this disease. His heart has, too.
I tried not to involve him in what I've named "The Glucagon Fiasco" with his school. He knew something was going on, but didn't ask any questions. On the day we received word that glucagon administration would be added back into his 504 plan I told him we were going out to celebrate. I described how we fought for 8 months to make sure he would be safe in school. His one and only question was, "Did this get fixed in other kids' schools, too?" I know I'm screwing up as a parent, but that day gave me two wins. I might be doing something right after all.
Now, if I could only teach them to clean up after themselves.
