Archive for the ‘type 1 diabetes’ Tag
February 28 2012
I fear Jedi’s diabetes most while he’s sleeping. It’s all a matter of the unknown. I have no idea how he’s doing and I don’t know if he’d jolt awake with a major blood sugar dip. My heart pauses for the slightest moment every morning I go in to drag him out of bed, thinking maybe this will be the day he’s so severely low that he just won’t wake up.
Rationally, I know the odds of this happening are slim. That doesn’t ease the worry, however. Making it a very bad time to pull a prank.
“Jedi, rise and shine, sleepy head! School day!”, I sang cheerily like I do every morning as I entered his room. It’s not unusual for him to fight my wake-up call, he’ll resist going to school at every turn, but I always see his eyes flicker open, at least. This time, they stayed shut tight. So I grew slightly more urgent.
“Come on, Jedi! Get up!”, I ordered, pulling the covers off of him. Still nothing. No change in expression or altered breathing. His eyes didn’t budge, his body continued resting in the same side position. This wasn’t like him. This was different.
I began to panic. More specifically, I began to freak out.
Rocking him back and forth, I pleaded with desperation, “Jedi! Wake up! WAKE UP!”. All without the slightest hint of movement. I thought for sure my worst fear was realized.
My mind was racing over what to do next. If I should grab the emergency insulin pen or call an ambulance. Please be OK. Oh my god, this can’t be happening. When Jedi’s eyes shot open.
“I don’t want to go to school today!”
Boy, you have got to be kidding me.
January 26 2012
His number was 85.
Before bed, when I checked Jedi’s blood sugar last. His number was 85. I wasn’t too concerned at the time, because I know by now how it goes. I adjusted his insulin dose a notch lower, then dispensed a cup of apple juice and a cheesestick for a snack. Afterward, he headed to bed where we said our goodnight. If you need me, I reminded, you know where I am.
Passing by his door a short while later, I stopped to listen. His snores said he was asleep.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t sleep. That 85 that was of little concern at first continued to fester with what ifs. There I laid awake after midnight with that number like a neon sign bright on the ceiling above me. It’s always so hard to know for sure, even with a pattern of history to rely on. I had to check, to be certain. But I didn’t want to wake him. Especially so late.
I didn’t want to wake him.
Procuring a hand from where he had it placed under his pillow, I hesitated while it instinctively clenched then relaxed again. Fumbling through the dark with his diabetes supplies, while he was sleeping and oblivious, I poked the tip of his finger with a lancet. I drew what I needed. And the boy, so used to it by now. He didn’t even flinch.
The meter beeped and I tiptoed out of his room to the light, my little secret kept safe.
His number was 144. I returned to bed and was finally able to sleep.
January 05 2012
We were led back to the radiology department, but first Jedi needed to change his shirt. You can’t wear buttons for an x-ray and the doctor wanted to make sure the wheezing in his chest wasn’t any more serious than the need for an asthma inhaler. As such, he first had to disrobe into a gown. The sight of which flashed back to when he spent a week in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.
I helped him remove his button-collar shirt and went about sifting through the stack of familiar hospital gowns for one in blue. For a boy who is growing ever more concerned with his appearance, this still bordered on disastrous. I at least wanted him to have his favorite color, though nothing would have been enough to make it fashionable.
“Oh this is embarrassing”, Jedi whispered as I tied the strings in back.
“It’s fine. Look, it’s blue!”, I tried to reassure.
With a sigh, we went to sit to wait his turn. An attempt was made to take his mind off the necessary style catastrophe, but he wasn’t about to be swayed. A marked difference from when he was at the hospital in August 2010 and didn’t even notice what he was wearing, or really where he was.
“This shirt is terrible”, my 8 going on 16 year old sulked. “It doesn’t match my pants. It doesn’t match my socks. It doesn’t match my shoes. It doesn’t match my face. It doesn’t match my personality.”
Later, Jedi admitted, “You know, this shirt is kind of comfortable”, as we’re getting ready to go home. “But it’s still terrible.” And it was, but garments are easily changed and forgotten. It’s the memories that catch you.
November 17 2011
As many of you know, my eldest child was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes in August 2010. Our time since then has been a learning process, but what they were telling me from the beginning is true: It really does get easier.
November is Diabetes Awareness Month. I wrote an article for Work It, Mom! as my small contribution.
How to Live Life with Type 1 Diabetes
You know I don’t ask this often, but I would be honored if you would go by and read, maybe even share or retweet if you feel inclined. There aren’t words to adequately express how much I appreciate your support, now and ever since I’ve been writing here. Thank you.
August 12 2011
We have had Grey Kitty as a member of our family for going on 14 years. He’s a senior citizen as far as felines are concerned and is more than willing to take advantage of his elder stature by sleeping his days away. Rarely does the cat move unless there’s food to consume or a break for his litter box or a kid has found his hiding spot. He’s a lazy lump of fur, is what I’m saying.
For the past few weeks, however, he had been slurping up water like his tongue was on fire. And his litter box would need changed a lot more than usual with it. At first, I just chalked it up to being extra thirsty.
Soon, the vomiting began. Horrendous and vile and continuous every time he dared to stand. Grey Kitty turned wobbly and weak and was withering into a skeleton. Finally, I realized my almost 14 year old poor excuse for a mouser was just getting worse without help. As it turns out, not only did my cat have a tumor that needed removed, but he has diabetes.
My cat. Has diabetes.
Did you know cats can get diabetes? I didn’t. I continue to be bewildered by the disease.
Jedi appeared consoled at the news, a way for him to feel like he’s not in this alone. Because no child at his age truly wants to be different. If he has to get poked and injected with insulin, I’m sure it helps to know others who are going through the same. Even those who are unexpected, like his cat. I can’t help but wonder, however, is there something in the water around here?
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
