Coexisting with dark places.
7 years ago
Showing posts with label insulin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insulin. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
The Art of Forgetfulness
Maddie is a talented girl. I am often amazed at the things that she knows, and is capable of doing, and doing well, at the age of 12. Among other things, she is smart, witty, and super funny. She has a hint of sarcasm, but fortunately, she only uses it in humorous situations. Oh, and most importantly, she has an impeccable memory....when it has to do with ANYTHING besides her diabetes. With that, she is struck with an early onset severe memory disorder.
"Did you check your blood sugar before lunch?"
"Ooohhhh...I forgot."
"Did you correct for your spaghetti like I asked you to?"
"Oops--I forgot."
"Don't forget to correct for that snack!"
{Hours later} "Uh oh....I forgot."
"Your blood sugar is a little too high right now. Save that candy for when it comes down."
"Aww man--I forgot!"
I thought this kind of memory loss is supposed to be saved for women after they've had children. I understand that she hates that she has to always deal with this stupid diabetes, but I would think that it would be automatic by this point.
It's weird--she can't remember anything that has to do with diabetes and carbs and insulin, but she doesn't seem to forget where her iPod is, or how much chore money she's owed, or that last Friday I told her I would get her favorite snack at the grocery store next time I went, or that I told her she could occasionally stay up until 11pm on some school nights (whaaaat?!?) or that 5 weeks ago, I promised her that I'd take her to Aeropostale at 2:30pm next Saturday (really?).....
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
My Love/Hate Relationship
We live very modestly. Other people that I know have new cars, huge houses, beautiful brand new furniture, shopping sprees every weekend, and lots and lots of stuff. They send messages out on Facebook asking for references for housekeepers. They go on date nights with their spouses, hire $20/hour babysitters, go on extravagant vacations, fly here, fly there, and so on.....
Not us. Nope. We don't buy new cars. We bought a house further out of town, that I clean BY MYSELF. I don't brag about new furniture--I brag about how long we've had our furniture. I brag about how little I paid for my groceries, using my coupons. I almost had a panic attack when they closed the Merita Bread Store in town, so now it's back to paying $2 for a loaf of whole wheat (oh- it pains me to even type that). Thanks, Hostess {read with much sarcasm). I try to lump all of my errands together in order to save gas. I prefer to call it "cheap chic", you know, like "shabby chic"? Except that I try to avoid the shabby part. But I digress....
Shawn's former employer did not have great benefits, because it was a smaller "business" and medical insurance is very costly. (If you're reading this, and you know us, and you work where he used to work, I'm sorry, but you know you're paying out the nose for blah insurance, although I know it's not the "company's" fault). I considered us to have a love/hate relationship with it. I loved and appreciated the things that the insurance DID in fact cover, but that wasn't much. I'm honestly not sure what we were paying for with the $800 per month, other than being able to say, "Yes, I have insurance." But whatever.....
In the spring of 2008, we got Maddie's first Medtronic Minimed. Our so-called insurance covered 20% of the $6000.00 pump. If you don't have a calculator for a brain, we paid $4800.00 for it. Now, mind you, we have 3 kids, and do not have $4800 just sitting around, so we had to finance it. Completely and thoroughly 1000% worth every penny. It is Maddie's life-line. It's what keeps her healthy, and for that, I'm very grateful.
This pump's warranty expired April 21st of 2012. Basically, what this means is that if the pump stops working, we are up the creek without a paddle, and back to the 8 shots a day Maddie goes. If the pump is within warranty, and the teeniest, tiniest thing happens, you'll have a brand new $6000.00 pump brought directly to your door step, or the door step of wherever you happen to be at that moment, the very next morning. Incidentally, my sister, who also wears the Minimed and lives in NC, was skiing in Colorado a few years back. Her pump stopped working one afternoon after skiing all day. One phone call later, and the very next morning, they called her from the front desk of the hotel with a completely brand new pump. That's it. Period. Winning~
So we've been going back and forth with the so-called insurance company, with Medronic, and with the finance company to get her new pump for over 7 months. At one point during the summer, I stopped communicating with them all, and started humbly and reverently praying that her old pump would not stop working. I guess it worked. Lo and behold, it was still working on the day we received the new one, on December 8th, 2012. (Thank you, Lord!)
Recently, Shawn got a new job, with brand new benefits, and "top of the line" medical insurance. It should not be called "medical insurance". It should be called "miracle insurance" because it does indeed perform miracles.
I stunned my Medtronic rep (and new best friend) when I told him what insurance we had. He called me back and was in shock.
"You have the best insurance I've ever seen in all my years at this company."
We received the pump a few days ago. Our miracle insurance paid for 98% (Yes, I said NINETY EIGHT PERCENT) of the $6000.00 pump, after we send in the old one for a credit.
After 7 1/2 months of hard core prayer, and a little anxiety mixed in, hoping her pump didn't fail, she is back on track and pumpin' away. God does perform miracles~
Not us. Nope. We don't buy new cars. We bought a house further out of town, that I clean BY MYSELF. I don't brag about new furniture--I brag about how long we've had our furniture. I brag about how little I paid for my groceries, using my coupons. I almost had a panic attack when they closed the Merita Bread Store in town, so now it's back to paying $2 for a loaf of whole wheat (oh- it pains me to even type that). Thanks, Hostess {read with much sarcasm). I try to lump all of my errands together in order to save gas. I prefer to call it "cheap chic", you know, like "shabby chic"? Except that I try to avoid the shabby part. But I digress....
Shawn's former employer did not have great benefits, because it was a smaller "business" and medical insurance is very costly. (If you're reading this, and you know us, and you work where he used to work, I'm sorry, but you know you're paying out the nose for blah insurance, although I know it's not the "company's" fault). I considered us to have a love/hate relationship with it. I loved and appreciated the things that the insurance DID in fact cover, but that wasn't much. I'm honestly not sure what we were paying for with the $800 per month, other than being able to say, "Yes, I have insurance." But whatever.....
In the spring of 2008, we got Maddie's first Medtronic Minimed. Our so-called insurance covered 20% of the $6000.00 pump. If you don't have a calculator for a brain, we paid $4800.00 for it. Now, mind you, we have 3 kids, and do not have $4800 just sitting around, so we had to finance it. Completely and thoroughly 1000% worth every penny. It is Maddie's life-line. It's what keeps her healthy, and for that, I'm very grateful.
This pump's warranty expired April 21st of 2012. Basically, what this means is that if the pump stops working, we are up the creek without a paddle, and back to the 8 shots a day Maddie goes. If the pump is within warranty, and the teeniest, tiniest thing happens, you'll have a brand new $6000.00 pump brought directly to your door step, or the door step of wherever you happen to be at that moment, the very next morning. Incidentally, my sister, who also wears the Minimed and lives in NC, was skiing in Colorado a few years back. Her pump stopped working one afternoon after skiing all day. One phone call later, and the very next morning, they called her from the front desk of the hotel with a completely brand new pump. That's it. Period. Winning~
So we've been going back and forth with the so-called insurance company, with Medronic, and with the finance company to get her new pump for over 7 months. At one point during the summer, I stopped communicating with them all, and started humbly and reverently praying that her old pump would not stop working. I guess it worked. Lo and behold, it was still working on the day we received the new one, on December 8th, 2012. (Thank you, Lord!)
Recently, Shawn got a new job, with brand new benefits, and "top of the line" medical insurance. It should not be called "medical insurance". It should be called "miracle insurance" because it does indeed perform miracles.
I stunned my Medtronic rep (and new best friend) when I told him what insurance we had. He called me back and was in shock.
"You have the best insurance I've ever seen in all my years at this company."
We received the pump a few days ago. Our miracle insurance paid for 98% (Yes, I said NINETY EIGHT PERCENT) of the $6000.00 pump, after we send in the old one for a credit.
After 7 1/2 months of hard core prayer, and a little anxiety mixed in, hoping her pump didn't fail, she is back on track and pumpin' away. God does perform miracles~
Friday, December 7, 2012
You Can Lead a Horse to Water....
I pride myself on being on top of Maddie's diabetes, for the most part. The only
times I'm not is when things are chaotic, I'm putting out fires, fixing or
cleaning up from a meal, and she runs off to her room. (Another time I'm not on
top of it is when she goes somewhere without me, Shawn or my mom, all the while
PROMISING to check her blood sugar, and correct for it, and for her food.) But
I'd say that 95% of the time, I'm on top of it.
So now that she's 12, and thinks she's 25, our conversations go something like
this:
"Maddie- correct for your blood sugar, and bolus for 60 carbs."
{Silence}
"Maddie! Correct for your blood sugar and 60 carbs!"
"Ok."
{30 seconds go by....}
"Did you correct?"
"I'm getting ready to."
{30 more seconds go by....}
"Did you do it?"
"Mama, I'm really getting ready to!"
"Do it now."
{silence}
"Maddie, I'm waiting...."
"Ok. Correct for my blood sugar and 60 carbs" as she runs up the stairs.
"Don't forget!"
"I won't. I'm doing it now!"
Fast forward 2 hours.
"Maddie, did you correct?"
"Umm...."
"Check your blood sugar NOW!!"
At this point, she is usually very high, and you know how this story ends....
I wonder why I have to ask her to do it so MANY times, (the pump is attached to her body, so she doesn't have to go far to get it,) yet she forgets to correct. I know the years ahead are going to be hard, but I'm not sure I can handle the teenage years AND diabetes. I am trying to instill in her that SHE controls her diabetes and SHE controls her health, therefore SHE controls how she feels throughout the day. I want her life to be "normal" and I absolutely hate that she has to deal with this stupid disease every hour of the day.
times I'm not is when things are chaotic, I'm putting out fires, fixing or
cleaning up from a meal, and she runs off to her room. (Another time I'm not on
top of it is when she goes somewhere without me, Shawn or my mom, all the while
PROMISING to check her blood sugar, and correct for it, and for her food.) But
I'd say that 95% of the time, I'm on top of it.
So now that she's 12, and thinks she's 25, our conversations go something like
this:
"Maddie- correct for your blood sugar, and bolus for 60 carbs."
{Silence}
"Maddie! Correct for your blood sugar and 60 carbs!"
"Ok."
{30 seconds go by....}
"Did you correct?"
"I'm getting ready to."
{30 more seconds go by....}
"Did you do it?"
"Mama, I'm really getting ready to!"
"Do it now."
{silence}
"Maddie, I'm waiting...."
"Ok. Correct for my blood sugar and 60 carbs" as she runs up the stairs.
"Don't forget!"
"I won't. I'm doing it now!"
Fast forward 2 hours.
"Maddie, did you correct?"
"Umm...."
"Check your blood sugar NOW!!"
At this point, she is usually very high, and you know how this story ends....
I wonder why I have to ask her to do it so MANY times, (the pump is attached to her body, so she doesn't have to go far to get it,) yet she forgets to correct. I know the years ahead are going to be hard, but I'm not sure I can handle the teenage years AND diabetes. I am trying to instill in her that SHE controls her diabetes and SHE controls her health, therefore SHE controls how she feels throughout the day. I want her life to be "normal" and I absolutely hate that she has to deal with this stupid disease every hour of the day.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Starting Over
This past summer, we made a very important decision. Maddie decided that she wanted to go back to school. Instead of going to the private school where she attended K-2nd grade, with a full-time nurse to keep a watchful eye on her, she went back to public school. Back to having 25 kids in one class, back to me not knowing what or how much she's eating, back to a nurse being at the school ONE day per week, back to regular daily recess and PE sessions, and back to me worrying about her for approximately 5 hours of the day.
I honestly enjoyed homeschooling Maddie. I can't guarantee that I was the best teacher in the world, but we had a really good time. Unfortunately, I'm not one of these supermoms that I have come in contact with on a weekly basis over the last 2 years who have made it their life's work to educate their children. I just did what I had to do at the time, and now I'm through with it. When I started really thinking of all the "normal" fun things that she was going to miss out on by not being in a school setting, I started to feel guilty. It doesn't have anything to do with her social skills, but more importantly, little things like chatting with her friends at lunch and recess, playing an informal game of kickball on the playground, field trips, Go Far, and the list goes on and on.....
I had started thinking about checking into the school where the neighborhood kids attend. I asked around (including people whose kids do not attend there) and found that it was in fact a great school--the best elementary school in the county. I made a brief mention of "going back to school" to Maddie, and she was all over it. All it took was one tour of the school, and she was hooked.
Then came the logistics.
"Maddie, you HAVE to remember to check your blood."
"Maddie, you have to speak up when you are feeling low, or are high."
"Maddie, you have to call me if your site needs to be changed."
"Maddie, you have to remember to give yourself insulin when you're through eating lunch."
"Maddie? Maddie? Maddie, are you listening to me?!?"
Then it came time to talk to the teachers, principal, and nurse about diabetes. They are so very sweet. I laid everything out very simply and neatly, and they took notes, and asked questions, but they have never had a diabetic child at the school before, so I still worry. I was surprised to find that they were all attending a Type 1 seminar before school started, but I'm not sure how much information they were expected to retain--sometimes things like that are very overwhelming. I do believe that if there is a question about anything, they will not hesitate to call me.
So, now we've been in school for over a week, and I have to say, she LOVES it. Every day there's a new friend. Every day, something hilarious happens in class. Every day, they do some crazy-fun experiment or game. Every day is better than the day before. But still, every day I worry about her blood sugar. But at least I know she's having a great time and enjoying herself, and that they're taking good care of her....every day.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
My MasterCard Commercial
Insurance $7200/year
Insulin Pump $8000
Glucose Monitor $500
Testing Strips $840/year
Insulin $420/year
Lab Visits $300/year
Endocrinologist Appointments $360/year
Glucose Tablets $100/year
My sweet Maddie Belle PRICELESS
Insulin Pump $8000
Glucose Monitor $500
Testing Strips $840/year
Insulin $420/year
Lab Visits $300/year
Endocrinologist Appointments $360/year
Glucose Tablets $100/year
My sweet Maddie Belle PRICELESS
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Diabetes Makes You Prettier
Something that's a big deal to me is making sure my kids have good self esteem and a positive self image. From the day they could understand me, I have told them how handsome and beautiful they are. I'm always telling Reilly (my 5 year old son) what big muscles he has, and what a great soccer player he is. Maddie has always been told how beautiful she is, and how smart and creative she is. I think we all need a little encouragement every now and then.
Ok, so this whole diabetes thing did a number on Maddie. From the time she was diagnosed at the age of 5, she has experienced a touch of depression, embarrassment, anxiety, and so many other negative feelings that sometimes accompany the diagnosis of a chronic disease. I can't say that I know how she feels. Because I don't. I don't have diabetes. I don't have to check my blood in front of my peers. I don't have people asking me if I feel low. I don't have friends that tell me I can't eat something.
So from the very day she was diagnosed, I have told Maddie that diabetes makes her prettier. Because I believe it does. I tell her that there's no way in the world that she would have been this pretty if she didn't have diabetes.
I tell her it does something to her hair and skin. I tell her that it makes her eyes a brighter green. It makes her skin a more beautiful shade of tan. It gives her eyelashes a tiny bit of extra length. It puts beautiful blond highlights around her face. It makes her teeth a little whiter and straighter. It makes her voice sweeter and softer. It makes her prettier. Because I think it does.
My dad has said something to Maddie since she was a year old. He has said it to her ever since then, and he says it quite frequently.
"Maddie, come here to your Grampa." Maddie is the only granddaughter of 6 grandchildren. She has her Grampa wrapped around her finger. It is not uncommon after she is told "no" to hear her mumble under her breath, "Well, Grampa will get it for me."
Maddie walks over to my dad's open embrace, as he puts his face right up to hers, so as to tell her a secret. "I have a pretty important question to ask you."
"What is it, Grampa?" She always acts like she doesn't have any idea what he's going to say.
My dad gets this serious look on his face and asks her the same question every time. "How did you get so pretty in just 8 years?" He inserts her current age at that moment. He is usually tickling her, or hugging her by this point. She just laughs and shakes her head and tries to get away from his firm grip on her tiny little body.
She manages to get "I don't know" out as he's tickling her and as they're both laughing out loud. I tried for years to get her to say, "From my mama," but she would never say it.
Now I know how she got that way......it's because diabetes has made her prettier.
Ok, so this whole diabetes thing did a number on Maddie. From the time she was diagnosed at the age of 5, she has experienced a touch of depression, embarrassment, anxiety, and so many other negative feelings that sometimes accompany the diagnosis of a chronic disease. I can't say that I know how she feels. Because I don't. I don't have diabetes. I don't have to check my blood in front of my peers. I don't have people asking me if I feel low. I don't have friends that tell me I can't eat something.
So from the very day she was diagnosed, I have told Maddie that diabetes makes her prettier. Because I believe it does. I tell her that there's no way in the world that she would have been this pretty if she didn't have diabetes.
I tell her it does something to her hair and skin. I tell her that it makes her eyes a brighter green. It makes her skin a more beautiful shade of tan. It gives her eyelashes a tiny bit of extra length. It puts beautiful blond highlights around her face. It makes her teeth a little whiter and straighter. It makes her voice sweeter and softer. It makes her prettier. Because I think it does.
My dad has said something to Maddie since she was a year old. He has said it to her ever since then, and he says it quite frequently.
"Maddie, come here to your Grampa." Maddie is the only granddaughter of 6 grandchildren. She has her Grampa wrapped around her finger. It is not uncommon after she is told "no" to hear her mumble under her breath, "Well, Grampa will get it for me."
Maddie walks over to my dad's open embrace, as he puts his face right up to hers, so as to tell her a secret. "I have a pretty important question to ask you."
"What is it, Grampa?" She always acts like she doesn't have any idea what he's going to say.
My dad gets this serious look on his face and asks her the same question every time. "How did you get so pretty in just 8 years?" He inserts her current age at that moment. He is usually tickling her, or hugging her by this point. She just laughs and shakes her head and tries to get away from his firm grip on her tiny little body.
She manages to get "I don't know" out as he's tickling her and as they're both laughing out loud. I tried for years to get her to say, "From my mama," but she would never say it.
Now I know how she got that way......it's because diabetes has made her prettier.
Being a Mom
My initial intention was to write a blog for moms whose kids had been recently diagnosed with diabetes. My thought was to let them know that even thought it's devastating to find out that your child has a chronic disease, it's probably the best one to have. You see, it's not cancer (thank goodness) or a tumor or a disability that will make her look very different. Diabetes is something that can be easily hidden, easily regulated, and pretty easily monitored.
I also wanted those "newly diagnosed" moms to read about a normal family with normal kids, who live a normal life, but that live it with diabetes. See, I don't claim to know much about politics, or the financial world, or business, or even sports. I don't watch the evening news, or really care about watching it. I don't have a medical degree, or ever thought about getting one. My talents lie only in being creative. I don't claim to know much about the cardiovascular system, or the nervous system, or the endocrine system, or any other systems.
But, I can tell you that I know almost all there is to know about taking care of a child that has diabetes. I know what to do if her blood sugar gets too low. I know what to do if it gets too high. I know how to give shots. I know how to change an infusion set. I know what to feed, and what not to feed a diabetic. I know how big "one serving" of pasta is. I know how many carbs are in a half cup of white rice. I know what's going to happen if she's too active. I know what to do if she's been sitting still for a long time. I know what to do if she gets upset. I know what to do when her adrenaline kicks in. I know what to do when she's sick. I know what to do if she has ketones in her urine. You give me a diabetes scenario, and I can tell you what to do with it.
My sister always says that I know way more than she does about diabetes, even though she's had it for over 13 years. I think I know why. It's not me that has the disease. It's my child. I didn't set out to learn about diabetes. I did it because I had to. It's my responsibility to take care of Maddie, so I have to know all of that stuff. If I were the one with this disease, I probably wouldn't know as much about it.
As moms, we don't let our kids out of our sight, unless we know that they're going to be safe. That's our job. It's why we're moms. I went to college at a huge university for 4 years and got a Bachelor of Arts degree. No employer or cushy job in the world is as sweet as being a mom. I'm going to give it my all. And that includes taking care of a child with diabetes.
I also wanted those "newly diagnosed" moms to read about a normal family with normal kids, who live a normal life, but that live it with diabetes. See, I don't claim to know much about politics, or the financial world, or business, or even sports. I don't watch the evening news, or really care about watching it. I don't have a medical degree, or ever thought about getting one. My talents lie only in being creative. I don't claim to know much about the cardiovascular system, or the nervous system, or the endocrine system, or any other systems.
But, I can tell you that I know almost all there is to know about taking care of a child that has diabetes. I know what to do if her blood sugar gets too low. I know what to do if it gets too high. I know how to give shots. I know how to change an infusion set. I know what to feed, and what not to feed a diabetic. I know how big "one serving" of pasta is. I know how many carbs are in a half cup of white rice. I know what's going to happen if she's too active. I know what to do if she's been sitting still for a long time. I know what to do if she gets upset. I know what to do when her adrenaline kicks in. I know what to do when she's sick. I know what to do if she has ketones in her urine. You give me a diabetes scenario, and I can tell you what to do with it.
My sister always says that I know way more than she does about diabetes, even though she's had it for over 13 years. I think I know why. It's not me that has the disease. It's my child. I didn't set out to learn about diabetes. I did it because I had to. It's my responsibility to take care of Maddie, so I have to know all of that stuff. If I were the one with this disease, I probably wouldn't know as much about it.
As moms, we don't let our kids out of our sight, unless we know that they're going to be safe. That's our job. It's why we're moms. I went to college at a huge university for 4 years and got a Bachelor of Arts degree. No employer or cushy job in the world is as sweet as being a mom. I'm going to give it my all. And that includes taking care of a child with diabetes.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
10 Things I Want My Friends To Know
Here's another good one from www.juvenation.org:
10 Things I Want My Friends To Know
10 Things I Want My Friends To Know
- When I'm testing my blood sugar or giving myself insulin, please don't get grossed out or make a big deal about it.
- Please stop telling me I can't eat something because there's sugar in it! I can eat all the same things as you can, just in smaller portions and with a dose of insulin.
- Just because I've had diabetes for a long time doesn't mean I'll ever get used to it. Most days I'm fine, but some days my diabetes can still get the best of me.
- I'm not going to die every time I check my blood sugar or experience a low.
- You don't need to announce to everyone that I have diabetes. I'll tell them if I want to.
- Having diabetes is like a full-time job and can be exhausting, so please be patient with me.
- Just because I have diabetes doesn't mean that I can't play sports and do all the things that everyone else does.
- It's OK to ask me questions about my diabetes. I want to help you understand what it's like.
- I didn't do anything to cause my type 1 diabetes, and there's still no cure.
- Diabetes doesn't define who I am, it's just something I have.
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.
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.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Date Was June 28, 2006
The first week of June in 2006, our family went to Disney World. Yes, we went in June. Yes, it was 150 degrees outside in the sun all day. And yes, we went to the parks as soon as they opened, and we were there until the parks closed. Maddie was 5 and Reilly was 18 months old. We had lots of snacks, and we ate every meal at the park restaurants, and at the different fast food stands. The kids had every slushy flavor that existed, every cotton candy color that they sold, and ate at every snack food stand that they saw. We were just living it up. That was our vacation, and we hadn't been on one like that ever, and probably won't again for a long time.
For quite some time before that trip, I had noticed that Maddie had terrible dark circles under her eyes. I just thought it was from being tired, or maybe her glasses prescription had changed and she was straining her eyes, or maybe she needed to drink more milk, or eat more vegetables.
She had also started wetting the bed every night. Here is my daughter, who at 2, decided that she wanted to use the potty, and never, I repeat, NEVER, wet her pants again. No pull-ups, no accidents, and no changing the sheets in the middle of the night. This girl had a camel bladder. I went twice as many times as she went during the day.
For quite some time before that trip, I had noticed that Maddie had terrible dark circles under her eyes. I just thought it was from being tired, or maybe her glasses prescription had changed and she was straining her eyes, or maybe she needed to drink more milk, or eat more vegetables.
She had also started wetting the bed every night. Here is my daughter, who at 2, decided that she wanted to use the potty, and never, I repeat, NEVER, wet her pants again. No pull-ups, no accidents, and no changing the sheets in the middle of the night. This girl had a camel bladder. I went twice as many times as she went during the day.
Maddie had begun to use the bathroom all the time during the day. She would go every 15 minutes. She would go as soon as she woke up. She would go whenever and wherever she was. When she went, it was as if she hadn't been in hours. She also began drinking everything in sight. If you had any beverage, she would walk up to it and down it in a matter of seconds. She would drink the whole glass if you didn't take it away from her. She didn't even care whose it was. If it was liquid, she would drink it.
Instead of buying her summer clothes that spring, I went digging through her old clothes because not only was she not fitting into her shorts that were 4's and 5's, but some of her 3's were falling off of her waist. She had started wearing size 2 and 3 shorts (normally a 2 and 3 year old size) with her size 4 and 5 tops.
Instead of buying her summer clothes that spring, I went digging through her old clothes because not only was she not fitting into her shorts that were 4's and 5's, but some of her 3's were falling off of her waist. She had started wearing size 2 and 3 shorts (normally a 2 and 3 year old size) with her size 4 and 5 tops.
All of these things mentioned were strange things that I had noticed over the spring months, but I never put them all together. I just thought she was acting weird, or she was just going through a growth spurt and maybe she was leaving her "baby-ness" behind and turning into a "big kid". I started getting a bad feeling about all of these things when we got home from our vacation because it seemed as if everything was magnified from that point on. All of these "symptoms" seemed to get worse. I realized I had to do something about it, or at least talk to a doctor.
I remember June 27th, 2006, sitting in my driveway, calling my sister, who at the time, was the only diabetic person I knew. She told me things like, "She doesn't have diabetes--you're crazy" and "save your copay, and I'll check her blood sugar next time I'm in town" but something inside of me was making me feel uneasy about the way Maddie looked and the way she was acting. So I hung up with my sister, and still sitting in the driveway, I called the pediatrician and asked to speak with the nurse.
I remember June 27th, 2006, sitting in my driveway, calling my sister, who at the time, was the only diabetic person I knew. She told me things like, "She doesn't have diabetes--you're crazy" and "save your copay, and I'll check her blood sugar next time I'm in town" but something inside of me was making me feel uneasy about the way Maddie looked and the way she was acting. So I hung up with my sister, and still sitting in the driveway, I called the pediatrician and asked to speak with the nurse.
As of right now, 3 years later, I can remember sitting in the driver’s seat, the car running, it was 5:00, and Maddie and Reilly were both asleep in the back seat. The nurse’s name was Susan, and all I remember is her saying, “Well, if you think she has diabetes, we need to get her in first thing in the morning.” There was no appointment made, there were no instructions, just get up, and bring her in! So, as directed, the next morning, my mom and I took Maddie up to the pediatrician’s office. Mom waited in the waiting room, and Maddie and I went down the hall, where we had gone so many times before. All the way, I’m telling Maddie that it’s going to be fine, but they would have to prick her finger, but I would get her a prize if she didn’t cry. At this point, my main concern was whether or not she would let the nurse have her finger.
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