Monday, June 30, 2014

The Odds of Three Pumpers and A Pal

At a recent party, a group of girls were gathered together in a pack formation.  Chattering and smiling with arms entwined, they clearly looked as happy as could be.

As I watched, two of the girls peered back over in my direction with big smiles.  I realized with instant recognition that those were "my girls".  After catching my eye, they continued back into the folds of the group and the chatter volume increased a bit more.

Even though I felt a bit like a spy, I couldn't help but to continue to look over with a big smile.  Taking this exact setting, I could almost remember exactly how it felt to be the same age and to be surrounded by my best girlfriends.  It is a wonderful feeling.  Thankfully, for a few moments neither one of my girls cared about my intrusive mom-ways.  I stayed quiet, so I am sure that helped!

In the way that math always appears in the world of t1d, as I watched them with a big smile, I was struck by the calculation that three of the girls were proudly wearing insulin pumps clipped to their waistbands.  Even though two of them were mine, as a whole, the group merged into a gaggle of teens without individual identity.  That moment of recognition was lost as I contemplated the odds of having three with t1d at the same party.  This wasn't diabetes camp or any kind of diabetes function.  It was just a group of kids and parents hanging out.

Those odds, I realized, are the true representation of what is slowly unfolding.  While we were once the only family in our area, we are now one of many families.  Those odds, are not one I like either.

And it wasn't just me that noticed.  The one friend without a pump noticed too.  She was staring and watching the other three.

I held my breath for a split second, wondering what was about to unfold.

She stepped forward to reach out and gently touch one of the pumps.  "I need one of those", she said wistfully while staring at the girls' waistbands.  "Can't one of you make me one?"  Half-joking and yet, half-seriously, she looked a bit more.  "That is just so cool."  She marveled in an innocent and endearing way that only a sweet kid would say.

Instead of denying the existence of their insulin pumps, the other girls grabbed her hand and said that they welcomed her into the pump club as she was a honarary member.  The friend had been recruited through out the year to be a part of various activities and didn't mind waiting for a low to catch up or a break to check bg.  She simply was the kind of kid that just went with the flow and that meant that whatever or whenever t1d needed to be taken care of, she was a willing companion.

I overheard one of the girls say, "Of course you are one of us and no pump was required, but if you like, I can give you mine for the day!"  Laughter erupted from the group with each of the girls volunteering to spare a pump.

So in the way that sometimes happens in a world like ours, suddenly the coolest thing was to part of a group that entertwined with t1d.

With a bit more pride and a little more understanding, the gaggle of girls pumping and not, continued back into their circle of giggles and laughter.

The odds of my girls having great friends for life appear to be in their favor.

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