T1

I hate diabetes. So sick of it. It hits me at the usual times, like when I'm changing out her pump site or reminding her to check her blood or realizing we left her meter sitting at home on the counter or realizing that we are almost out of one supply or another. Those times usually just feel like irritation and tiredness. But it also sneaks up on me at times, catching me totally unaware, and those are the gut punches. Those are the ones where my heart skips a beat and I tear up.

Like when I went to put some syringes in the sharps container yesterday and offhandedly peeked in to see how close to being full it was. It hit me so hard to see all those lancets and cartridge needles and syringes that represent so many thousands of finger pricks and infusion sites. So many pokes to those sweet little fingers and arms and butt cheeks.

Or a few weeks ago when her teacher e-mailed me in the evening to find out how Lexi was feeling because her blood sugar had spiked really high at school, causing her to get really pale and lethargic and start throwing up. It wouldn't come down, so Brittney went and picked her up for me, and when I got home I discovered that her infusion cannula was totally bent, so she hadn't had any insulin since about 5:30 am. In that e-mail, her teacher told me that on the kids' birthdays, she interviews them, and one of the questions she asks is, "What's something you don't like?" She said most kids answer "chores" or "cleaning my room" or a yucky food, but Lexi's answer was "diabetes". Her teacher said it made her sad. Gut punch. Made me cry to read that.

And then a week or so ago, I read in the newspaper that a boy with T1 diabetes went to basketball sleep-away camp at a college in Salt Lake, and he died because he went into ketoacidosis and wasn't treated soon enough. He got feeling crappy and started throwing up, got lethargic... same thing that happened to Lexi at school a few weeks ago. Thankfully, her teacher and school are aware and observant and caring, and Lexi is a good advocate for herself, but still... it's that gut punch of... that could be my kid! My kid was in that same condition a few weeks ago... the only difference is that we worked to correct it once we figured it out and got her down and got the ketones cleared out so that she didn't go into ketoacidosis, but what if?

Then there are those random times when I'm rubbing her back and feel the pump tubing under her shirt, or I'm walking behind her and notice the pump tubing hanging out of the back of the waistband of her shorts, and I think, "That tube is keeping her alive. Without the insulin going through that tube, she dies." Freaks me out for just a second, and then I'm fine, because that's what you do. But there's that little split second where I feel my stomach lurch and my heart skip a beat.

Or when I notice bruises on her fingers where she's tested too much in the same spot. Or when she tells me that the girls in her tumbling class keep asking her what her pump infusion site is and she hates it and doesn't want to talk about it or explain what it is, so she just tries to brush it off, but they won't stop asking.

But, then, it could be so, so much worse. I'm grateful it's just T1 diabetes.