"Mom! I am 85! Can I eat?"
I glance at the clock and read 5:50 p.m.. Dinner is a mere ten minutes away estimated finishing. Tonight we are having pasta and sauce with a side salad. It is a simple dinner and all I need is for the pasta to finish cooking.
I holler back. "You're fine! Dinner is almost done."
"But I am lowwwwwwww! And I am hungrrrrrrrry!" She yells again.
Feeling impatient, I tell her to wait as I am draining the water off the pasta. The steam is filling my eyeglasses and I am having trouble concentrating on not getting burned and talking to an impatient child at that the same time.
"Just wait!" I say with the same impatient tone that is also in my head.
The hot water jumps up and bites me squarely on the knuckles, making me whimper.
Suddenly, a sound cuts through the noise and pain and I can hear a can of glucose tabs being opened. The bottle is new and the plastic wrap is making a tell-tale crinkle noise.
I drop the rest of the pasta into a bowl so that I can figure out where the sound is coming from. Walking past the bathroom, I see the same hungry daughter that I had just asked to wait, eating glucose tabs.
"I am low and I know it said 85, but it feels lower. I need something now!" She says defiantly.
As if on cue, Sigums (our CGM) bleeps a warning... 67 mg/dl and pointing down.
Shaking my head at the situation, all I can do is tell her that I am sorry and that I didn't realize that her blood sugar was dropping so quickly. We sit quietly until the low feeling has passed and then, I hug her and apologize again.
Later that night, I tell the Naturally Sweet dad the story and he in turn, gives me a hug and tells me it is going to be alright.
And while I know it really is alright and we are fine, I can't help but once again feel a deep ache for what type 1 diabetes continually delivers to us.
Some days are just so hard.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
|Youngest daughter shortly after diagnosis. I see her tiny little medical bracelet that would now only fit a doll.|
Just seven years ago, I held her little hand and cuddled her as best as I could from her hospital bed.
Neither she nor I knew anything of the world of type 1 diabetes.
Today, after a lifetime of learning (or so it feels), we still cuddle and hold hands. She is still that same baby girl, just a bit older.
Yesterday, at our annual JDRF Walk to Cure T1D awards banquet, she and I accepted awards for our Naturally Sweet Sisters fundraising efforts and for our support of advocating as a walk co-chair, mentor and family coach and as a two-time JDRF child ambassador.
While she has taught me more than I thought I would ever know about the world of type 1 diabetes, she has also shown me that life is full of possibilities. She never tires of the idea of finding a cure or in supporting others that walk along our same path.
On the drive home after the awards ceremony, she said it best:
"When I get my cure, I want to come back and dance!"
Friday, December 6, 2013
Youngest Daughter: "Mom! I am 150 mg/dl. I knew it! I think I am a side-kick!"
Me: "Oh good number! Wait, what do you mean that you are a side-kick?"
Youngest Daughter: "Well, I knew the number so that means that I am a side-kick!"
Me: "Oh, you mean a psychic?"
Youngest Daughter: "A what? Ha! Ha! Ha! No, mom.... geez, I mean a side-kick. Your saying it wrong! It is s-i-d-e-k-i-c-k! A side-kick! Ha! Ha! Ha! Hey sissy, mom doesn't know how to say side-kick! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Giggling and shaking her head, she leaves the room with me futilely trying to explain while scratching my head in disbelief!
Kinda reminds me of this clip from the movie, Frozen. We apparently have our own little Olaf!