In the beginning... where I reveal that I believe in Angels, nondenominational angels

Blogging is definitely not going to come naturally to me. After years in university, I find I open up this little blog box and I want to grammar check, spell check, reference and research before I type any words. That makes the whole experience a little overwhelming. Then I realized this morning that anyone reading this blog is not looking for an academic experience about diabetes. I'm not a diabetes academic or medical practitioner. I'm just a mum loving her kids who live with this disease. So, with that in mind I thought I'd share our beginning story, our first diagnosis and two ways it changed my world.

Like many people our two year old son, Sam, displayed the symptoms of type 1 diabetes. Looking back I would say probably for a year before diagnosis. It was early December 2001 that his constant flu symptoms, irritability, thirst, bedwetting, extreme weight loss and hair loss became intensified. I was in the 9th month of my second pregnancy, we figured we'd entered the terrible two's and he was having regular childhood flu symptoms. The stress level in our home was skyrocketing though as we tried to manage his new and difficult behaviours.

I remember standing in a church service during this time, hearing about the difficult journey that Mary took to Bethlehem and feeling absolutely connected to her struggle. I silently started to cry because I knew something was very wrong in my world but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. As I cried, I felt a comforting presence surround me, like sinking into a hot tub of joy and peace. I didn't know what the heck happened but I knew I was comforted and accepted the moment. I certainly didn't share it with anybody because I figured they would think I was crackin' up. 0_o

Sam then went to stay with my mom while I had an emergency C-section for our adorable MsA. He was with her two days and things had FALLEN APART. He was miserable- obviously ill, almost no hair or fat left on his little two year old body, and had a yeast infection that left his genital area unrecognizable. It was Christmas Day. We struggled through and called our family doctor December 26 for an urgent appointment. He gave us an ointment for the yeast infection. December 27 after another horrible night I sent Sam back to another urgent care doctor with a list of symptoms and a query regarding type 1 diabetes. He agreed to do a fasting blood glucose test !the following day! So we did another horrible night. Completed the blood glucose fast and they told us they would call. Except we didn't get any calls. I contacted the clinic that day and asked the nurse for results. She rudely (yes, I'm going to use that word) told me that the doctor received the results and would have called if there was an issue ~I was NOT allowed to call her back. So, we started into another horrible night. By 11 pm I can remember feeling desperate but as a young mom, it seemed everyone thought I must be overreacting. Hubby thought I was overly emotional and if the doctor said things are fine, then they were. By 2 am Sam was almost frozen on his bed, all of his muscles were like rocks in his body and he lay there moaning for water. I was at a loss. How could this be normal? Why were the doctor's telling me nothing was wrong with him? How could I ease his suffering??

As I lay on the floor beside his bed, in pain myself from my infected C-section incision, desperate for him to feel better, to be able to help him- I met his guardian angel. You may think, holy crap, this is definitely where we stop reading this crazy delusional lady's blog-- but I really did. It wasn't fancy, there was no glowing, there was no wings or trumpets. There was just a comforting presence that said to me: Trust yourself, he needs help. He can't wait any longer. Trust yourself, trust yourself.

Finally, I had the courage to pack the whole family up in the car. The courage to walk in the emergency room doors; knowing 3 doctors, 2 nurses, my family were saying he would be okay, it was only my postpartum blues- to get him to the help he needed. He collapsed 5 minutes after we got to the emergency room into a diabetic coma. For three long days I sat beside his bed while we waited to see if he would recover-painful long days of not knowing if we would have our son, or if he would have suffered brain injury.

I suppose this could have just been a post about medical professionals knowing the warning signs of type 1. But instead its about how I came to have faith in angels. How those moments laid a foundation of strength for me to deal with the many, many struggles that followed. Type 1 Diabetes is so hard, and invisible enough that we can sometimes fool ourselves into thinking life should be easy if we just do it right, just follow the rules. There are no barriers to achievement or success with type 1, but it comes at a cost of great attention and care to everyday events. It's exhausting and constant. For these reasons, I am so grateful to know I'm not alone in the journey, my children are not alone in their journey.

I know many people who struggle with a relationship to Creator -the world is not easy, hurts happen, pain and suffering exist. I am so thankful that I don't feel alone, that I've had experiences that tell me we are loved if we let ourselves be loved. That we are cared for even during those difficult painful moments. I still don't always get it right, I still have days or weeks when I am struggling with the exhaustion. Then I look back to our beginning story and I am comforted all over again. Find strength and courage all over again.

Wordless Wednesday: Ice Cream Required

39°C or 102°F right now

Regrouping: my first blog'y post'y thing

I'm taking a day off work today to regroup. One definition of regrouping? Reassemble after being attacked or defeated. This past weekend I was definitely a bit defeated.


I find with all the diabetes kids, life can be like walking a tightrope. Thank you Nik Wallenda for the recent imagery. One little thing can sometimes unbalance it all. Last weekend the little thing was my father (who has parkinsons- so granted this is not such a little thing) wandering away from his long term care home. We then spent some time in the ER checking out a possible broken foot for my youngest. Luckily, no broken foot.


The funny thing is? I can't tell you how many times people ask me: How do you do it? married 14.11 years, work full time, care for three type 1 diabetic children, oversee the care of  my father with Parkinson's, and stay so model beautiful?? (okay I threw that last one in there-- Ford modelling agency is NOT knocking on my door). And, I really don't know the answer. 


Some days, or many days, I don't do it. Many days my kitchen sink is overflowing with dishes and I choose to read a book instead. Many days, I take the kids to their activities and enjoy them instead of scrubbing the floors. A lot of nights, it's hubby cooking the dinners. Everyday, the kids are responsible for two chores throughout the house, and I mean big chores like laundry and cleaning the toilet! (yuck) One year, I even skipped all the endo appointments so that I could do my Masters degree at university. Yesterday, I managed to leave some of the planning for my dad up to my brother (who is perfectly awesome and able to manage). Today, I've chosen to not do it at all. I mean, type 1 keeps on keeping on but this mumma is sitting in her pajama's seeing what it's like to be a blogger and contemplating the mysteries of the universe.


So maybe I finally have an answer to the question: How do you do it?


I don't do it actually. I rely on others to help, to understand and make allowances for my messy house, crazy hair and blank look (that means I'm calculating a bolus given the time of day, background basal, activities that have happened and are about to happen, the general demeanor and presentation of each child,  the past 24 hours of bg#'s, the likelihood of emotional stress via tests or races, the temperature outside, the way the wind is blowing... I won't go on ). 


I'm going to try to be okay with that. 
Live that as my new mantra. Re-work  'Just do it' to 'Just do it-with a lot of help'.