It’s 12:03 pm
I am waiting for Sam to text me her numbers. I’ve been waiting since I dropped her off at school this morning.
She’s 10. She was diagnosed a few months ago… this is all very new still.
The private school she attends doesn’t have a nurse, so she’s on her own.
She doesn’t want her classmates to know her “secret”. She doesn’t want to be treated “different”.
An image out of a Disney sitcom floods my mind… I envision her sneaking off into a supply closet. She’s got her test kit - a pretty little Harajuku bag we got in Downtown Disney. Inside it is her lancet, her meter, her test strips, a 15 carb snack in case she’s low, her Novolog flexpen (a genius device) and some alcohol wipes.
Finally, she texts me her numbers, “274” followed by a "Mom, I’m high!"
And the dialog begins…
“Do you feel okay?”.
“Are you hungry?”.
And then I try to remember what I packed in her lunch… Grapes, grilled chicken, green beans, vanilla wafers, bottle of water…
On a normal day, I’d probably tell her 1 unit, but today she is high…
“Did you wash your hands before you tested?”.
I can hear the impatience in her text…
The 1/2 hour she has for lunch has just been shortened by 6 minutes of testing and texting… And I still don’t have the answer… 3 units? 2 for correction and 1 for the lunch she may not have time or appetite to eat… No, go conservative, she’s got PE and dance classes later… “Ok baby, 2 units and drink lots of water, I love you, your doing great, mwa”.
and she’s gone. By the times she gives herself a shot, she’s left with about 15 minutes of lunch and play time…
And now I wait, 3 hours til pick up. And I will wonder, was it enough? And I will go over the entire interaction 100 times… Should I have said 3 units?
It’s 12:03 pm
Rewrite this blog sans all the technology and it could have been written by my mom almost four decades ago.
Did you know that there is a special section in Heavan dedicated to Moms of T1s? Seriously, there is!!
Not sure where I read this quote but I love it “Diabetes is not a game of perfection, it is a game of averages.”
She may not say it now but she will thank you in 10 years, and 20 years, and 30 years, and 40 years, and 50 years, and 60 years…and…well you get the point.
After 28 years and a lot of “feeling alone” and “being different” that little story reminded me of 1 very important detail. “Mom’s ROCK!”
Tell your daughter to wear it like a badge of honor, it took me 20 years to learn that. Thank God for my Mom…
hope things have calmed down and she is home safe