Pulling an All-Nighter

Maddie has been looking forward to her first soccer practice for weeks. Thursday April 1st was the sought after day. She's had her practice clothes out for weeks, which by the way, are coordinated with her socks, shin guards, and pink striped cleats. Incidentally, she also had decided that she would wear 2 low pony tails behind her ears, instead of the conventional 1 pony tail on the back of the head.

The pink and purple soccer ball from Justice has been in her hot pink adidas bag for a few days now, and the hot pink water bottle was washed and ready to go. I had informed Maddie and her brother to fill their water bottles and put them in the freezer a few hours before time to go. It was 80 degrees here today, so I knew they would need them frozen, in order for them to be cold at practice.

Well, 5:30 came and my 2 soccer players went, and the water bottles remained in the freezer. In my defense, there's only so much one person can handle at once, and I was furiously trying to feed them before they hit the road.

So, of course, I had forgotten to give the kids their water. Fortunately there was a Sheetz on the way to the field, so my husband stopped off and got each of them a big cold Aquafina.

Upon arriving at the field, both kids jumped out of the car, as if it were Christmas morning, and ran to the field. My husband, who was coerced into coaching the 5 year-olds, followed close behind, carrying all of his stuff.

Lo and behold, there was one important thing left in the car--Maddie's water. Not that of my husband, or my 5 year-old rough and tough soccer dude, but alas, it was Maddie's water.

Now, we all know the horrible cycle of dehydration for those of us who don't have diabetes, but for a diabetic, it's sooooo much worse. Dehydration leads to high blood sugars, ketones, and all kinds of other lovely things. The last time Maddie was severely dehydrated, we were instructed to take her to the ER, where she was hooked up to an IV all day. I will give anything in order to avoid that traumatic experience again.

When Maddie returned from practice, she was in the 500's. Because she had been active for an hour prior to that check, I took off 100, and corrected her for 400. I do take her pump off when she plays sports, because let's face it--I don't want to purchase another $7,000 pump, when I am barely able to pay for this one. She will usually go high because of adrenaline, but I can't always count on that, so I like her to be on the high side when she's going to be active.

Anyhoo, knowing there was no basil for an hour or so, I was expecting her to be high when she got home, but also expected her to go low quickly, once her adrenaline stopped, and she was able to cool down. All of this time, no one, except for Maddie was aware that she had had NO water the entire practice.

An hour after the initial post-practice check, she was in the high 400's, so I corrected her again, this time for the whole amount, but I set the pump alarm to go off in 1 hour so I could recheck and see where she was, thinking that she would be very low.

She got in the shower, messed around in her room for a bit, and when the hour was up, I checked her again. Still in the 400's. So I changed her site. No big deal. Then it was bedtime, and off to bed she went, with her meter in tow. I would be checking her again before I hit the hay.

At about 11:00, she came down the steps complaining that she was freezing and almost violently shivering. OK, this is one thing I had not seen her ever do, unless she was scared by a thunderstorm, or unless the heat was broken in our house. I checked her, and she had gone down to near her normal range. She felt warm, so I checked her temperature, and she was around 100, but that was while shivering, so I'm not really sure if that was even accurate.

We gave her Tylenol, a bottle of water in order to check ketones at a later time, wrapped her up in my Snuggie (leopard print--love it!!) and my husband carried her off to our bed, to snuggle her up and try to get her warm.

A while later, I checked on them, and she was wide awake watching Cory in the House, and Shawn was snoring like a jack hammer, as usual. She was still sipping on her water, and had checked her ketones, which turned out to be "small". I figured this was partly because of the whole water bottle situation that had gone down earlier in the evening.

I checked her temperature once again, and she was 104!!! She's my first of 3 children, and I've been fortunate enough to have healthy kids (other than diabetes), who catch the occasional bug, or cold, or every now and then get an ear infection, but I've NEVER had a child with a fever of 104. That's as high as my thermometer goes, and I didn't think it ever really went that high.

So after a call to the Endo at 1:30 a.m., who was out of town, then a call to the pediatrician, who wants to see her in the morning, we put her in a luke-warm bath, and put cooler pajamas on her.

Now, here I sit at my computer, which will be my companion for a while tonight, as I sit and wait for my opportunities to check her blood sugar every 2 hours, ketones as often as she has to use the bathroom, temperature, and administer Tylenol/Ibuprofen every 3 hours, and try to convince her to drink, drink, drink at any opportunity that she wakes up.

I'd rather not try to sleep, for fear that I will inadvertently turn off the alarm, not realizing that it's going off for a reason. Plus, I'm able to stay awake, with adequate TV shows and movies DVR'd, and Thursday night happens to be a good TV night. Not to mention that my only sleeping option is in Reilly's bunk bed, in which I will either be kicked in the face all night, or sleep with transformers, who happened to have gathered on the top bunk. Maddie's bed, which, while it is very comfortable, it is a day bed/trundle, and I happen to like to stick my feet out sometimes, and you know how day beds are--they're all tucked in. I know, I know.....it's really late, and I'm getting a little loopy.....

Anyhoo, I'm hoping the fever will go away, or go down to a normal 100 or so, and that there will be NO ketones, and normal blood sugars. Maybe this is, in fact, strep, as the pediatrician suggested, or maybe she's just really dehydrated, which is my intuition. You know what they say--a mother always knows, and my mom was always right about everything. At least that's what I've learned at the ripe old age of 35. We'll see....

The Wretched Bug

 **GROSS-OUT ALERT**

A few weeks back, (it's a blur because my last 2 months have been filled with so many sick-kid days, that I can't remember quite when it was) Maddie somehow picked up the "top end" stomach bug, opposed to the "bottom end".  Both equally gross, but having a drama queen for a child, makes the top end just a tad bit more disgusting.

You see, Maddie thinks that she is suffocating when she's throwing up, so she tends to shake her head back and forth as she's vomiting.  (Picture a dog getting out of the water, and before you can get to him to dry him off with the designated "dog towel", he does that doggy-water-shake-off thing and gets water EVERYWHERE.)  She also forgets to put the seat up, which leaves more square inches to contaminate.  But honestly, the seat really isn't a big deal, when you're sanitizing the entire toilet, floor, bathroom counter AND cabinets, in addition to all 4 bathroom walls.   

Now, not only do I try desperately to get her to the bathroom in time, get the seat up, keep out of the line of fire, keep my 3 and 5 year-old boys from watching in awe, but I'm also trying to hold back her loooong hair, as any good mom should.  *For the record, men just don't understand the importance of the holding-back of the hair.  My poor husband, who has been married to and living with me for almost 14 years, will stand OUTSIDE the bathroom door, when I happen to catch a bug, and yell, "You okay in there?"  Um, nooo!!  (To be read sarcastically, while rolling your eyes).

Anyway, this doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of this fiasco.

I don't remember any exact numbers, but the night before, Maddie was a little high.  I corrected her, and she was just as high the next morning.  But, before I could suggest a site change, which is protocol for 2 high blood sugar readings in a row, after correction, that's when it all hit the fan.  Or the kitchen floor, if you want to be realistic.

Did you ever see "Cheaper By The Dozen" with Steve Martin and Bonnie Hunt?  You know the part in the beginning when someone throws up, and it's a domino effect from then on for the next 10 minutes or so?  Well, for some reason, Shawn and Reilly (husband and 5 year-old) were standing right beside her, so as "it" was hitting the kitchen floor, (tile) it was splattering all over the legs of everyone and everything within 6 feet of her.  Fortunately, Brendan (3 year-old) was not nearby, but unfortunately, he didn't know what was going on, so while we were all frozen in fear and astonishment, he ran directly through it, and slid across the floor, smearing it all over the kitchen, laughing all the way.

In our attempt to get her to the bathroom, we were both slipping and sliding around, me barefooted, Shawn in his NEW WHITE tennis shoes, all while she was still vomiting and doing the head-shake thing.  Then we were torn--do we help the vomiting diabetic child, do we clean up the 150 square foot mess in the place where we eat, or do we clean off our legs, feet, hands, and everything else that got hit? 

As Shawn and I locked eyes, I could tell what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing.  Which job is worse?  To this day, I don't know the answer to that question, but as I dashed off, with a smirk on my face, to get the Swiffer Wet Jet in the garage (knowing good and well that Shawn had no idea where it was), I was yelling, "YOU BETTER HOLD HER HAIR BACK!!!"

Whew

So sorry, fellow blog followers.  November and December have been very busy months.  As far as numbers, Maddie's been up and down, but her A1C went from 8.5 to 8.3 in 3 months.  That's a start.  I wish it were back to 7.9 when she started 2nd grade, but I'll take anything that's headed downward.  I'll start back up with my much needed and much loved blog time as soon as our schedules get back to normal, and Shawn and Reilly go back to school.  At least that's my intention....
: )

H1N1 Drama

Here is our Swine Flu time line.  Fortunately, Maddie has not caught it, but hopefully she will not catch it in the future.  I know there is so much drama about any kind of flu shot, or the lack thereof, but this time, I'm a little nervous about it.

August:  Maddie's endocrinologist informs me that she MUST have the H1N1 flu shot.  He also says that it is a "good idea" for the rest of us to get it, since we live in the same home and are her caretakers.

September:  Drama about the H1N1 virus in the media, cases all around NC, and some cases in our school and church, and amongst our friends.  Scientists are furiously working on the vaccine.

October 1:  Vaccine is complete. Ready to be shipped to all health care providers.  The media announces that they are taking all precautions to NOT have a shortage, and are making sure all who need it will get it.

October 5:  In for my 5 year old son's check up, I inquired about the H1N1 vaccine for my "chronically ill child" at the front desk.  I was told that they would receive it at the END of October or BEGINNING of November, and to call around that time and they would put her on a waiting list, but that she would indeed receive it because of her illness.  I also asked the doctor, and was told the same thing--she would definitely get the shot.

October 21, 2:00 p.m.:  Upon entering the office for Maddie's 9 year old check up, I noticed a sign that said "Sorry, we are out of the H1N1 vaccines.  All County Health Departments are out, also."  Surely they don't mean they are completely out because we weren't notified, or put on a list, and Maddie HAS to get one, as do all children with chronic illnesses.

October 21, 2:30 p.m.:  I asked the nurse about Maddie's need for, and her endochrinologist's demand for, her to get the vaccine.  In the same breath, I told her what I had been told at the beginning of the month, and since it wasn't the END of October, I hadn't called.  The nurse's response was, "Sorry~we only got 100 vaccines yesterday and we ran out this morning at 10:00 a.m.  I don't know why you weren't called or notified."  When I asked the doctor the same question, and added, "Why weren't we notified?"  I didn't really get a clear answer.  She just told me to see if the endochrinologist could give Maddie the shot.

Wouldn't he have told me he could give her the vaccine when he first suggested that she get it?

Something doesn't add up......

My New Title

Today I got a new title.  I am now the WORST MOM EVER.

I've never claimed to be "Mother of the Year".  Yes, sometimes my kids go outside without jackets when it's cool.  And yes, I've unexpectedly noticed Maddie wearing flip-flops in the winter.  And, yes, there have been mornings when the kids go out the door without brushing their teeth.  And yes, I've been known to pick up 3 happy meals so as to not have to get out all the stuff for PB&J's.  I have arrived at church only to realize that someone wasn't wearing pants.  I do rush out the door some mornings forgetting to feed breakfast to at least one person.  Yeah, so?  Don't we all have those moments that are monumental at the time, but 15 years from now, we'll laugh about?

I don't claim to be one of those super moms who has it all together, with everyone looking immaculately clean, with brand new expensive clothes on, and every hair in place.  In fact I'm quite the opposite.  I don't know how many times I've gotten to wherever it was that I was going only to realize that no one (including myself) had brushed their hair.  I have taken my kids into Wal-Mart and thrown them in the buggy because I couldn't find one of their shoes as I was walking out the door.  "Too bad--you can ride in the buggy with the toilet paper and diapers.  Next time, don't lose your shoes!"   

But one thing that I am absolutely not, is a BAD mom.  I am also not an IRRESPONSIBLE mom.  I also think that I know quite a bit on how to take care of my chronically ill child.  Not today, though.  Today, I'm the worst mom ever..... 

It was Maddie's 9-year old check up, and I expected it to be a normal, non-eventful visit.  When they called her name, the nurse checked her height, weight, vision, and hearing, then sat her down to prick her finger.  After all of that, we presented the nurse with a fresh cup of warm morning urine, that had been sloshing around in my purse all day (of course, the cap was screwed on tight, and it was in a ziplock baggie).

Now, I am very aware of Maddie's A1C, aware of her ketones, and aware that they would find sugar in her urine, typical of a diabetic.  My first mistake was watching the nurse check her ketones.

"She doesn't have ketones, does she?"  On the ketone scale, "Trace" and "Small" are just signs that Maddie needed to drink water this morning, and that her blood sugar may have been a little high when she woke up.      
"She's right between "Trace" and "Small", but that's no big deal."  Actually, for anyone else, it is a big deal, but for Maddie, I know what it means, because I've been there and done that, and I can tell you what it means in my sleep. 

From across the crowded hallway, I hear a low and stern voice bellow out, "Trace to small? Is there sugar in her urine?"  This was one of the doctors that I was NOT seeing that day.  It's also a doctor that doesn't know me and doesn't know Maddie.

Stunned, the nurse looked up and hesitated to tell him that there was sugar in her urine.  I'm not sure what the number means exactly, but by the look on her face, I knew I was going to get flack about it.  I just didn't realize I was going to get flack about it from a man I had never met, nor had ever looked at my daughter's chart.

He walked over to Maddie and put his hand on her shoulder and told her that she needed to drink more water, and try to keep her blood sugar down.  **SARCASM ALERT**  Oh, really?  Is that what she's supposed to do??  Good, because no one had ever mentioned that to us before!!

He then started questioning ME in the hallway outside of HIS patient's room and in front of a whole bunch of nurses and patients.  "What's her A1C?  What have her blood sugars been like? How much insulin is she getting per day?" and on, and on, and on, and on......

**SORRY--ANOTHER SARCASM ALERT**

Oh, how did I get from the pediatrician's office for a regular annual check up, to the endochrinologist's office for a lab visit?  And how did our usual sweet, quiet and FEMALE doctor turn into a humiliating MALE pediatrician/endocrinologist before my very eyes??

His last statement to me was with his finger pointed at my face.  "You need to get that blood sugar under control, and fast!"  Then as quickly as he stepped into my conversation with the nurse, he stepped into his next patient's examination room.  And he was gone.

After the nurse rolled her eyes and told me that she didn't know what his problem was, she took me and Maddie into our examination room.  What she apparently didn't realize from that confrontational conversation is that with that little finger point, he was giving me my new title. "WORST MOM EVER"

Germs, Stools, and Flu Shots

Today was Reilly's 5 year-old check up.  No biggie, right?  Oh, it was a biggie.  Having Maddie around all the time means she gets the privilege of accompanying me everywhere I go.  Being that Brendan is 2, he also gets to enjoy that privilege.  My mom has the privelege of being able to help me out when I need it, and today, I needed it.

It was a perfect plan in my head.  Pick up Reilly at 12, get the kids lunch, eat in the car, meet my mom at the doctor's office, Mom, Maddie and Brendan watch a movie in the car with the windows down (it was a beautiful day) while Reilly and I run in and see the doctor.

At about 11:55, as I was on my way to the school, my phone rings.  It was Shawn telling me to see if I could get Maddie and Brendan in to get flu shots while I was at the doctor's office, so we wouldn't have to make 2 trips.  Yeah, easy for him to say--he was sitting in a quiet room with a bunch of well behaved teenagers who were not angst ridden about getting shots in their arms.  So, I agreed, called the doctor's office to see if I was able to do it, and hence began the whining and complaining.  The nurse said that they didn't get the nasal mist this year.  Just the shots.  That's just great. 

I have to admit, I'm a worrier.  I also have severe anxiety when it comes to knowing I'm going to endure something painful or uncomfortable.  For instance, I find it almost impossible to get a glaucoma test.  I can't stick my head in a contraption knowing good and well that this contraption is going to blow air on my eye balls.  I just can't do it.  If I keep my head in it, then I inevitably close my eyes at the exact moment the air puff blows.  It's the suspence of knowing that it's going to happen.  I also can't stand the eye ball numbing drops.  Because I know that I can't feel my eye balls, and that bothers me.  But, alas, I can endure a flu shot.  So, Maddie has this worry/anxiety thing that she picked up from her mother.  I just choose to worry about more important things, like puffs of air....

Anyhoo, for the next hour and a half, I had to listen to things like, "Do they have to give the shot to me?" and "You're going to have to pay money for me to get the shot, and I don't want you spending your money on me." and "I just really feel like I'm not going to get the flu, so can I just skip the shot?"  All of this coming from the person who has taken thousands of shots, thousands of finger pricks, and hundreds of needles and tiny tubes in her back side. 

Normally I'm not a germ-o-phobe, but the swine flu scare has sent me into sort of a panic because it could be much more dangerous for a child with a chronic illness, than an otherwise healthy child.  I spent the 15 minutes in the waiting room with Reilly applying the provided hand sanitizer and kindly reminding him not to touch anything or put his hands near his face.

Everything was going smoothly until they called Reilly's name to "come on back" and told me that the other 2 kids should come back, too.  It wasn't going to take long for his check up, then they would all get the shots.  The nurse took Reilly to weigh him, and I ran out to the car to get Mom, Maddie and Brendan.  I could tell it wasn't going to be pretty when Maddie walked down the hall with tears in her eyes.

All 5 of us get escorted into a tiny and very warm examination room.  As usual, immediately 3 things start to happen simultaneously.  Reilly, who is sitting on the table in his Spiderman boxer briefs, starts talking about something, in which to demonstrate meant he had to put his entire hands in his mouth, and when asked not to do that, immediately rubs his eyes with the previous saliva/germ covered hands.  Maddie is quietly crying in anticipation on the floor, with her blood sugar soaring by this point.  Brendan is running full speed back and forth in this 5x8 square foot room, in which there are 2 chairs, a stool, a desk, the paper covered examination table, and five people.

So being the worn out and frazzled mother that I am, I first asked him to stop (knowing full and well that he wouldn't have any part of that) then I put him in "time out" which consisted of the high stool that I knew he couldn't get down from.  Now at this point I am sweating, both from the heat of the room, and from the disposition of all 3 of my kids.  The sweet nurse sticks her head into our room and says, "I'm just putting the SIX  NEEDLES for the kids' SHOTS in the bin on the door.  I didn't want you to think someone was knocking on the door."  Yeah, thanks.  Way to bring it up.  Now everyone has a precise mental picture. 

You can always tell when the doctor is about to come into your room because you can hear the papers being shifted around as they look through your chart really quickly to know what's going on with you.  As I heard Reilly's papers being shifted, the door knob was turning, and I look over at Brendan and he is in mid air.  He lands on his head with the loudest "bonk" sound that you can imagine.  He didn't land on the side of his head, or his shoulder and head.  He landed flat on the back of his head.  And right as the doctor was opening the door.

So now I have 2 crying kids, and 1 in his underwear, and we haven't even started the check up yet.  A few minutes later, Brendan stops crying only to have a noticable goose egg on his head, but Maddie was still in a fetal position crying, this time on my Mom's lap.  I'm never in the right state of mind to ask questions of the doctor at my kids' check ups.  I'm always trying to keep people from crying, and I'm always sweating from the stress of having a doctor talk to me about my child, but not really listening because someone is inevitably acting up.

When it was shot time, Maddie went first, and started hyperventalating.  When the doctor got her calmed down, she gave her the shot.  It was somewhat remeniscent of the first time I gave Maddie a shot of insulin, but not quite as ear-piercing.  Of course, she looked right at the needle and started screaming, not to cease for probably a minute or two.  Fortunately, my mom had a good grip on her.  I had visions of the letters "HI" on her meter.  Stress and anxiety causes her blood sugar to go sky high, and this was definitely stress and anxiety for her, and for me. 

Unfortunately, Reilly received his kindergarten shots, so he got 4 shots instead of 1.  I heard him say things that I hadn't ever heard him say before.  "Get me away from her!" and "This has got to stop now!" and "I can't believe you're letting her do this to me!"  It was quite unsettling for me.  The worst part is having to hold them down so they can't move, except for turning their heads to see the 4 inch long needles.

Then it was Brendan's turn.  He was sleepy, and sweaty, and had a huge bump on his head.  I set him up on the table and she gave him his flu shot.  He didn't wince, he didn't cry, and he didn't even change his sweet expression from a blank look.  He just sat there and got his shot, and watched the whole time.  I think God gave me him to help my calm my anxious nerves and give me a periodic breath of fresh air in my stress filled life.

When we got out to the car, Maddie checked her blood and she was in the 500's.  That figures.....but at least she won't get the flu!  

   

Bravery

When Maddie had just turned 2 years old, she fell off of a bed and broke her arm.  At the time, the nurses thought it was Nursemaid's Elbow, and tried several times to put it back in place.  Nope.  It was broken, and they were further torturing my child.  Maddie endured an all-nighter in the ER, x-rays, and the putting on of, and removal of (with a saw) a cast, all around the age of 2. 

When she was 4, Maddie was diagnosed with amblyopia, which is when your vision isn't the same in both eyes, so they have to correct the "bad" eye so that your brain doesn't train itself not to use it.  My tiny little 4 year old girl had to endure a rigorous ophthalmology appointment, then get glasses (but fortunately no eye patch.....arghh), which at the time was devastating to me.  Now, not so much.

Anyhoo, Maddie has been put through the ringer as far as doctors and ailments were concerned.  She didn't visit the doctor without lots of screaming and gnashing of teeth until she was almost 4.  Fortunately, she was over that when she endured the whole diabetes thing.  But it never ceases to amaze me how brave she really is after all.

Keep in mind, her fingers are calloused from the repeated sticking to check her blood sugar.  Her backside is spotted from changing her pump site every 3 or 4 days.  She doesn't even wince when I shove a needle inside of a tiny plastic tube into her skin.  She is the bravest person I know.

Now, I've had my fair share of pain.  I've endured being smashed in a car by a Volkswagon Bus, breaking multiple bones and taking out the window with my head and elbow and leaving an 8 inch frankenstein scar down my leg.  I've broken multiple toes, I've had surgeries, and I've birthed 3 babies.  I have a high threshold for pain.  I can handle pretty much anything.

Last year, Maddie and I went to get our eyes checked.  A really good friend of mine is a CPOA at a huge ophthalmology office in town.  Because Maddie has had problems in the past with her eyes, she was a little worried about the appointment.  I knew it would be easier for her to get "checked" by Miss Lisa, than some stranger.  She got all the tests done, got drops in her eyes, and had her eyeballs poked and prodded. I could tell she was nervous, but, nonetheless, she didn't make a peep.   Then it was my turn.

I'll show Maddie how this is no big deal for me.  How she shouldn't be worried about the eye tests, or getting eye drops, or the wretched glaucoma test.  I haven't had many visits to the eye doctor, but how hard can this be?  What's a couple of puffs of air?  No biggie.....

On about the 5th try of trying to get me to keep my face in the contraption to get puffs of air in my eyes, my friend Lisa said, "We'll have to do the eye drops for the glaucoma test.  You keep moving your head before the puff of air shoots out."  I never said I didn't have a problem with anxiety.  I laughed a little, so that Maddie could see that no, it was still no big deal.

As Lisa was putting the drops in my eyes, she proceeded to tell me that they would numb my eyeballs because she was going to "tap" on my pupil with an instrument.  I don't know about you, but the thought of not being able to feel my eyeballs makes me a little woozy, not to mention the whole tapping thing with the instrument.

The next thing I remember was Lisa waking me up, trying to get me to drink a sugary drink.  Not only had I not handled my numb eyeballs, but I had passed out!  I looked over at Maddie and she was giggling.  She wasn't just giggling to herself, she was laughing at me!   

More recently, Maddie's endocrinologist nurse wanted us to try out a new lancet device.  (That's the thing that sticks your finger with a needle).  She claimed that it was supposed to hurt less, and she wanted ME to try it out to see.  I don't know what she was thinking, but whenever a sharp pointy thing goes into my skin at a high rate of speed, only to bring blood, it's going to hurt.

"Just try it, Marcie.  You'll see that it is much less painful than her regular lancet device."  Oh no.  She wants ME to stick my finger.  That's going to hurt!!!  And what makes her think I've tried the lancet device that she uses now??  Then it's going to hurt for 30 minutes and I have to act like it's not big deal.

OK, I had to put on a brave face for Maddie.  After all, she stuck her fingers every day, 6-8 times.  Surely, I'm not that much of a chicken that I can act like it doesn't hurt in front of my kid.

I brought that thing up to my shaking finger, and held my breath, ready to stick myself.  I looked over at Maddie, who was rolling her eyes, and I pressed the button.

"Ouch," I said calmly, but what I was thinking, "OOUUCCHH!!!!!".  As the nurse squeezed my finger to bring up what seemed like a gallon of blood, I was wondering if that had hurt any less than getting kicked in the stomach.  My finger was pulsing and red.  I was sweating, and feeling a little faint.  It only hurts for a second....what a crock--it was throbbing, and did for at least 20 minutes.  I don't remember what happened in the appointment after that, because I was seeing stars, and my finger was reeling in pain.

How can a person so young and so small endure this every day??  I don't know anyone braver than my girl.

  

Diabetes 101

It was a Wednesday afternoon. When we walked in, the nurse took us to a conference room. Whew--no examination room, no paper liner on the table, no tiny sink or stool with wheels. Just a table and 4 chairs. It wasn't anything intimidating for a 5 year old. And there we sat from 2 p.m. until it got dark outside. I don't even know when we left. All I knew was that my mom had my 2 year old and we had a sick daughter.

We learned A LOT about diabetes that afternoon. We learned about cells, blood, sugars, the pancreas, how to give shots, how to check glucose, what to do when, and what to do where. It was information overload. I remember thinking that this was more information than I had taken in during all 4 years of college.

Then it was time. The doctor wanted ME to give my child a shot. He wanted ME to stick a needle in her smooth tanned skin. I washed my hands. I prepared the insulin. I screwed on the needle. I wiped down her skin with alcohol.

Now, we don't have cats, but I've heard that it is almost impossible to get a cat into a toilet. Why anyone would want to put a cat down into a toilet bowl is beyond me, but nonetheless, I've heard it's tough. Supposedly the cat clings onto the side for dear life, all the while scratching, biting, hissing, and screaming. Clinging to your arm, so as to not get wet from the water.

Administering this shot, was like trying to get a cat in the toilet. Once I held up that needle, we had to catch Maddie. Once we had her in our grasp, we had to physically hold down her arms and legs. We had to hold her still, because she was NOT going to let us near her with a needle in our hands. After the even-keeled doctor and nurse tried for about 10 minutes to talk her into letting us stick her, Shawn stepped in and held her. When she wouldn't allow him to hold her down, the doctor, who is probably 5 feet tall and in his 60's, grabbed Maddie, while the nurse held her arms and sat on her legs.

I had a tiny window of opportunity to stick her teeny little tummy with this stupid needle. I just went for it. I held my breath, pinched up her skin, and let her have it. I was sweating, my eyes were burning, the lump in my throat was painful, I was nauseous, and I was shaking. Shawn was as white as a ghost and plastered up against the wall in the corner.

The sound that came out of that child's mouth was like nothing that I had ever heard before. Not only was she being held down by 2 total strangers, but she was getting a shot in her stomach, and it was being administered by her mother. The person that promised that she would never let anything happen to her. The person who loved and hugged and kissed her. The one that held her and rubbed her head when she was upset. The one that picked her up when she skinned her knee and carried her inside. The one that sat up all night when she was sick. Hopefully she would forgive me for this.

When it was over, I was relieved, Maddie was an angry mess, the doctor and nurse were stunned, and Shawn was still quiet and pale. What a relief that it was over!! Now, I only had to do that exact same thing 6-8 times a day for the rest of her life. Oh, and by the way, I only have to check her blood sugar 12 times a day until we get this under control.

As we were leaving the dark and vacant doctors office late on that Wednesday evening, the doctor announced, "I'll see you at 9 in the morning. Be prepared to stay until at least 6 p.m. Oh, and you'll come in all day on Friday, too."

We had a trip to the beach planned for that weekend. Shawn was going on a missions trip the week after that. What in the world were we going to do? I don't know if I can handle this. I guess I don't have much of a choice.

A Miracle on June 28th, 2006

Fortunately for us, there was a new pediatric endocrinologist in town. He was well known for having had articles published in medical journals, for being one of very few pediatric endocrinologists in the state, and he was the first endocrinologist to have a diabetic patient healthily go through fertility treatments, pregnancy, and a healthy birth in the 1970’s.

However, he was booked solid. Not taking new patients.

Somehow, our pediatrician worked a miracle over the phone. Not only would he see us, but he would see us that day. He would tell us what to do. He would tell us what we needed to know. He would help us get our baby girl healthy again.

I had no idea what was in store for us over the next 3 days.

The Phone Call

After the doctor’s loud phone call in his office, he came back into the room. He had made arrangements with a specialist that wasn’t taking new patients. Except for Maddie. She was an exception. I was given directions, a name, a suite number, and a time.

It was a dizzying walk down the hallway back into the waiting room. I remember opening the door and seeing Reilly playing with the toys, and my mom sitting on the chair, smiling. She was ready to go and get on with hanging out with her grandchildren.

I know I wasn’t crying outright, because I was trying to be strong for Maddie, and I didn’t want her to think it was a big deal. I didn’t want her to be scared. I do know that I had tears in my eyes, and the moment I looked at my mom, who was smiling, and she saw my tears, I had to actually say it.

“What did he say?!?”

I didn’t want to say it. If I said it, then I’d be putting it out there, and I’m not ready to do that. If I nod my head, will my mom know what I mean? Will she think everything is fine? Or will she get my hint? What is Maddie going to think?

Get it together, Marcie. Maddie is listening. Get it together, girl. If you break down, she’ll freak out, and you don’t need her to do that right now. Clear your throat. Swallow. Take a deep breath.

“She has diabetes,” I spoke very softly so maybe, just maybe, Maddie wouldn’t hear me.

“WHAT?”

“She has diabetes. We have to go see a pediatric endocrinologist at 2:00.”

My mom didn’t say much after that. I didn’t say much either. I do remember her calling my dad to tell him to pray. We had to figure out how to spend the next couple of hours with a toddler and a hungry 5 year old, that apparently had diabetes.

I don’t remember dialing the phone, but I had to somehow inform my husband that our sweet baby girl, the light of our lives, our first born child, the owner of our hearts, has diabetes.

“Hello?” Shawn is always very chipper at school. I think it’s because he’s doing exactly what he is meant to be doing. He loves it, and I think he’s really good at it.

“Hey.” I, however, was not so chipper.

“Hey! What’s up?”

I was mumbling softly, trying not to get upset, or let Maddie hear my conversation. “Maddie has diabetes.”

“What? I didn’t hear you. Maddie what?”

“She has diabetes.”

“SHE HAS DIABETES?”

“Yes. Mom and I are on our way to get them something to eat, then we have a 2:00 appointment with a doctor. You should probably come.”

“Where is the appointment?”

I gave him directions and he hung up. I could tell he was trying not to cry.