Only a MOTHER's LOVE...

NaBloPoMo: DAY 30 - BABY!!!!

First off you will be happy to know that this is the LAST day of NaBloPoMo. I want to acknowledge other BUDDIES that under took this challenge with me: Wendy from Candy Hearts, Heather from Sweet to the Soul, Tracy from The Superhero and the Princess, and LeeAnn Twill from the Butter Compartment.

Thank you for reading. A BIG "Thank You" to my local friends and to my family who have listened to my incessant blog talk for the past month. Thank you commentors for making me feel like I am not just sitting here getting "pancake ass" while writing words and slinging adjectives and adverbs, like like a multi-clix dispenses needles, for no reason. I am relieved that my words are read and not lost in the deep, fiery, obscure, dark depths of cyber-space. I truly appreciate your time and comments. Simply, THANK YOU.

Onto the FINAL POST!

And.

It's a DOOZY!

I was asked by Joe's Second Grade teacher to do a presentation on Type 1 for the class. In years past, Joe hasn't necessarily wanted to share about it. I have always respected that. I told his teacher that we would do a presentation if Joe was O.K. with it. After seeing his good friend Maggie and her mom do a presentation on Maggie's Thoracic Insufficiency Syndrome, Joe decided he wanted to share about his Diabetes.

Now, I am not sure if you are getting this through my writing...but, nothing is that easy, straight forward, or simple with Joe. I asked him how he wanted to go about educating his buddies about Type 1. I suggested a book that was in the School's Health Office. Oh NO! That would've been way too easy. Joe, the difficult little bugger, wanted me to make a book.

So.

Here it is.

Don't laugh at the illustrations. I can write somewhat...but draw, forget it. (I inserted some whole pages here and there to the top left of the page breaks denoted with red asteriks).

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Title Page:

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Hi! My Name is Joe.

I am 7 years old.

I love to play soccer. Shooting hockey pucks on goal makes me smile. Anything that requires continual bodily motion with an element of danger keeps me engaged. I construct space ships, jail scenes, and coast guard boats with my Legos. I enjoy reading. I like to watch movies and play video games.

I have brown hair and brown eyes.

And.

I have Type 1 Diabetes.

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I bet you have lots of questions about diabetes and the equipment you see me using. Meet my BUDDIES, Beta Boy and Beta Girl. We will do our best to explain type 1 diabetes to you and we will show you some of Joe’s cool gear.




What is Type 1 Diabetes Anyway?

Type 1 diabetes is when your body does not make the hormone called insulin.


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Ah…what the heck is a hormone and what is Insulin?

A hormone is a substance produced by an organ in your body that then travels through your blood stream to make something happen in another part of your body.

Insulin is a hormone produced by your pancreas. Insulin is needed by the cells in your body to be able to convert the food you eat into energy.

Where is the pancreas? What does it look like anyway?

The pancreas is located deep in your abdomen (tummy), sandwiched between your stomach and your spine.



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The pancreas looks kind of long and bumpily. Don’t you think?

So, what does this "No Insulin Business" mean for Joe?

Fortunately, researchers discovered how to make insulin in 1921. Joe takes insulin to help control his diabetes. He takes it continuously through his insulin pump.

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Joe wears the insulin pump in a pack (called a pump pack) that is around his waist. The pump delivers insulin to Joe through the tubing 24 hours a day. Every time Joe eats, we count the number of carbohydrate grams in his food so that we can figure out the correct dose of insulin to give Joe by using his pump.


How do you count carbohydrates (carbs)? And what is a carb?

Well "carbohydrate" is a word meaning starches and sugars. Carbohydrates are the main energy source in the foods we eat. Examples of carbohydrates include milk, bananas, and bread.


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Many food items that Joe eats must be weighed and measured to figure out the carbohydrate count. Once we know how many carbohydrates Joe is going to eat, we can program that number into his insulin pump. The pump will then tell us how much insulin to give Joe so that his body can use the “energy” from the food he eats. Make sense?

How do you know the medicine, the insulin, is working?

We check Joe’s blood sugar several times a day. If Joe is getting an appropriate amount of insulin to cover his food, his blood sugar will be within a certain range like 80 to 180. A person with a functioning pancreas has a blood sugar of about 80 to 120.

The machine used to check Joe’s blood sugar is called a “Glucometer”. The finger poker is called a “lancing device”.


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You may also notice that Joe wears a white device on his arm we have named this device "Dexter". “Dexter” is a Continuous Glucometer. The Continuous Glucometer is another way to measure Joe’s blood sugar number. Sometimes you will hear "Dexter" beep and vibrate. These beeps are telling us that Joe's blood sugar may be going out of the normal range (80 to 180).





What happens if Joe’s blood sugar goes too high or too low?

When Joe’s blood sugar drops too low he can become very tired, grumpy, hungry, shaky, sweaty and/or confused. It is important to let an adult know if you think Joe might be low. Joe must eat sugar when he is low.

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When Joe’s blood sugar is high he gets really thirsty and his body may not feel too good. Joe needs more insulin when he is high.



How did Joe get diabetes?

Type 1 Diabetes is not like a cold, you cannot catch it from someone else. It is an Autoimmune Disorder. Joe’s immune cells got confused and attacked the cells in his pancreas that produce insulin.

My Grandma has Diabetes!!! She takes a pill. Will Joe ever be able to just take a pill for his Diabetes?

Unfortunately, no. Joe has a different type of Diabetes than your Grandma. Joe will always need insulin.

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What Joe and I want you to remember.

Joe is just like you. He loves Second Grade. He plays hard on the playground. Soccer at recess is a blast. He is into reading and writing. Music, Art, French, and P.E. are loads of fun too. He is a kid. He has brown hair. He has brown eyes. He also, just so happens to have Type 1 Diabetes.


For my exuberant Number 1, Type 1 Child. I love you Joe. Love, Mom

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A day-in-the-life loving my Number 1, Type 1 kid... while drawing poor illustrations.

Joe's Post Choice Wednesday: A CHILD's DREAM ENDOCRINOLOGY VISIT DAY

NaBloPoMo: Day 29

Well this post goes back about two years.

Endocrinology visits now, compared to then hinges on one day really...one moment.

The way one went down two years ago still has a Gorilla Glue grip hold on my conscience. The one where after our appointment, I essentially kicked Joe to the curb at a 42, making him hurry (yeah, right...a 42 Joe ... NO WAY was he "hurrying" anywhere ...anyhow ...anyway), almost dragging him while shoving sugar in his mouth as I dumped him in the Health Office so that I could be on my way.

Not a "Mother-of-the-Year" moment for sure.

The background on this fiasco was that I was scheduled to be at work, as a school nurse, at another school by 11:30. In the interest of confidentiality, let's just say this school had a few children with needs that I was VERY familiar with. I am not sure if you are picking-up what I am laying down...but these kids needed my help for lunch. I was hired on specifically for the "lunch portion" of their day. I had agreed to work this shift forgetting that Joe had his quarterly Endocrine appointment scheduled for that morning at 10am. I knew it would be a"tight" timeline. AND. I wasn't counting on having a medical student gather our most recent data, do a thorough review of Joe's diabetes management, and update the History and Physical with as much detail as I put into mascara-ing my lashes. As you can imagine by the previous poorly written sentences, time was of the essence. I knew I was going to have to dump Joe off to the School Nurse after the Endocrine Appointment with his unconsumed lunch, as he had already missed lunch with his peers. When we pulled up to the school, Joe said in the all-to-familiar I am low voice, "iiiIIII" (climbing in octaves) "FEEL" (equi-octave) "LLOooww" (descending in octaves).

"Oh for f*ck-sake" (barely an audible whisper upon exhalation), uttered by yours truly out of frustration.

Yep, his blood glucose was 42.

And.

Like any heartless, ice cold blooded, stressed, rushed, perspiring because she is late, panicking because these other children need her, and knowing her son will be fine because the School Nurse is waiting for him in the Health Office D Mama .... I scooped him, dragged him (kind of by the arm...sounds worse than it was..the floors were recently buffed so he slid along nicely), prodded him like cattle, while I popped glucose tabs into his clenched mouth. It was like feeding quarters into a noncompliant coke machine on legs.

He was in a Pissy. Joe. Low. sort of way. It was ugly. He would not even look at me as I left his low, limp, noodle-y body in the Health Office. No hug. No good bye. No nothing.

I then rushed to the other school to work. Once settled, I teared up and felt horrible. It was on that very day, at that precise moment, that I declared "ENDO DAY will be FUN DAY!!!". AND. IT. HAS. BEEN. EVER. SINCE. Which is why, I believe, Joe wanted me to share this with you today.

----> ----> ----> Fast Forward (two years), ----> ----> ---->

Endo day, today, looks like every child's dream!

A day off from school! Yes, ALL. DAY. Why the heck not? I ask. No school. ZILCH. None. NADA.

Endo day also means Nintendo DS while mom talks to the Doctor!!! Hip, Hip, Hooray!

Endo day also means, a mommy and Joe lunch date to the restaurant of Joe's choice.

Ice cream for lunch? Sure, if you so choose Joe!

On a blood draw day, which yesterday was, a jaunt to the toy store also takes place for a little something to look forward too.

Joe wanted his war wounds posted.

It took two pokes to get the coveted blood. Joe is not a crier, nor a screamer, nor a fighter during blood draws. He simply prepares himself by hardening his face somewhat in preparation for the needle puncture. Occassionally, he winces and perhaps an "OW" escapes his lips.

Joe loves Endo Appointments. I hope to keep it that way.

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Endo Appointment Details:

Please see this post from SFincham's blog to understand why I am sharing. I will also start keeping a widget on the side of BETA BUDDIES with Joe's A1Cs like Lora does from My Diabetic Child.

Joe's A1C was 6.7%. I was expecting a 7 or a 7.2%. I have been trying to run Joe a little higher. We have had minimal lows. So, this A1C result was a small, sweet little nugget of victory for us. Joe's A1Cs have always been in the 6's since starting pump therapy 3 1/2 years ago. With that being said, not all of the 6's were a "good" report, especially for such a young child. There were some 6's that were the result of too many lows. Remember, the ultimate goal is an acceptable A1C while maintaining safe blood glucose levels. Anyone can achieve a low A1C by running themselves low all the time ... not a safe, nor a smart way to manage the beast disguised as "d".

On a final note, how do you guys feel after the Endo Appointment? I always feel like the slate has been wiped clean. It is liberating really. Is that how everyone views it?

A day-in-the-life of trying to make "d" a little more fun for my son Joe.

MY DREAM REPORT CARD

NaBloPoMo: Day 28 (Just.2.more.days!! A silent scream, cuz it is 3am)

I am up. It is 3am.

I am altering downloaded photos (see left).

I am thinking about our day.

Four times a year we, as D'Rents, get to look forward to, dread, or face with indifference our children's Endocrinology Appointment and the "all-knowing" A1C. For non-"d" peeps the A1C is the measurement done to assess how well a person's diabetes has been "in control" over the previous 3 months.

So, I don't have any idea where Joe's A1C will land today. He is usually a "high-6er", as I like to call him. No thanks to me. He runs that bad boy down. If anything, I have felt that his A1C has been a little low for his age over the past few years. I back off insulin. I cram, stuff, and prod sugar into him. I try to get him to slow down...but the kid is a "blood-sugar-burning-machine" for the most part. I think "Dexter" (Joe's Dexcom CGM) has helped us avoid many lows since his arrival and has been instrumental in Joe's comfort level with his diabetes and his fear of lows.

So, let's talk about my class schedule at the elite educational institution known as The Beta Academy. I attend this fine establishment as a make-shift, second-rate, more-beautiful-than-the-real-thing pancreas every minute of every day.

Class Schedule:

Period One: Insertion Studies - Where I study the intricacies of piercing my son's tush with the Inset every 36 hours. We tried inserting every 48 hours with inconsistent insulin absorption, by hour 48. A "distraction" of TV or Nintendo DS and an ice pack to the bum bum makes the 5 minute procedure go smoothly, without a cry, but with an occasional (and heart-breaking) wince from Joe.

Period Two: Honor Insertion Studies - Once you have placed a pump site while careening through the air on a commercial jet-liner, you are invited to join this class. This class prepped me for a recent site change that took place in Joe's flooded "dirt pit", due to a site failure. I think I flunked the "sterility" portion of the insertion because of my lame attempts at trying to fling off the dirt chunks with an alcohol swab just prior to the release of the introducer needle. AND. Yes, I am a nurse, but hey, you try comforting a 300+ Joe, who is not happy about being pulled from his play for "d" care while wielding the cocked and loaded Inset. 'Nuf said.

Period Three: Basal Tweaking 301 - I think this is the area where I have shown the most improvement. At one point Joe had 12 (yes, people...T-W-E-L-V-E) basal rates going. He had more basal rates than honey has carbs (well not really, but you get the point)! Luckily for me, my instructor has been understanding and has not penalized me for it.

Period Four: Carb-em-matics - Where the use of carb factors, scales, and in total "wth, f*ck-it" moments, SWAG-methods are discussed and executed in a controlled classroom setting.

Period Five: Complex Bolusing 201 - This one, usually requires some massive SWAGing gifts! If the SWAG-Gods and Number-Gods are aligned, you too can ace this class.

Period Six: Lunch - Where I get to practice the fore-mentioned skills every-single-day, until Joe is ready to attend The Beta Academy.

Night Classes with Army Rangers (a pre-requisite to all of the above): Oh, to attend The Beta Academy you must participate in grueling night courses that require high mental acuity with intense sleep deprivation. You will be wielding sharp objects and be forced to see drops of blood in pitch black; you will stumble upon toy obstacles; you will stub your toe (hello Penny); you will cringe when you hear the "Error 5 Beep"; you will pierce straws into Juicy Juice boxes using your keen sense of touch; you will detect site removals with a twitch of your nose relying on your olfactory nerve.... All of these things, while half asleep ... while essentially making life-saving decisions.

Heading to Endocrinology, a quarterly part of the day-in-the-life of parenting a child with type 1 diabetes.

WELCOME TO MARS!

NaBloPoMo: Day 27 (Just.3.More.Days!)

Have you ever been curious about what each of our homes look like? What does Meri's new house look like? Hell, is she even unpacked yet? Where does Heidi blog from? Where is Joanne curling up to catch this season's Amazing Race?



I am curious, I bet you are too.

So, today, for a lack of much to say due to my compressed and ischemic creative brain cells slowly necrotizing from the mucous influx and extreme "eyeball-popping" pressure after a pitiful attempt to do "Plough" during Yoga X, I am going to show you around our home.

The Maher's New (to us) Home

The Mudroom (10' by 18' of pure awesomeness)

There is so much space in this puppy that I decided to add a kid's craft/science center.

WTF? Seriously look at the nasty water.

Ah, yeah a jawbone from a cow? moose? We don't know. Any thoughts?

Joe made a snow globe out of a baby jar, and scrumpled up tin foil....hmmm.

The Kitchen

Grand Central

Grand Central with Joe's Log...the orange highlighter is HIGHS/blue is LOWS.

Our Family Contract...Note: the "no whacking with a shovel" - Joe's idea.

Laminated Allowance Expectations

Where all the "Blogging Magic" happens. AND where "Pancake Ass" takes place from the long blogging hours I have put in this month.

Dining Room

Cute Broom Closet

Let's open it and see what is inside...

Oh look, it's a sharps container! What home is complete without one?

Oh and in pantry #2 we have more "d" supplies!

My favorite painting. Bridget thinks the blond girl looks possessed.

My favorite family photo...

The T.V. Room

The Screened-In Porch

More treasures... remember all of the boxes of rocks I moved?

Saw this guy as I was taking pix...couldn't resist. Funny how Lego people cannot look violent even with a machine gun in their hand. Why is that anyway?

More of Joe's creations.

Home Theater (in the basement)

More "d" supplies

And a few more....

A day-in-the-life of the Maher's (pronounced "Mars") at home. Thanks for dropping by!

RENDERED USELESS

NaBloPoMo: Day 26 (just 4 more days!)

I wasn't going to post this. Sometimes the truth sucks and I don't want everyone to know what it is really like. However, I would be negating the whole reason I started this blog in the first place if I was not upfront in sharing it all with you. So, here goes.

After reading Lora's post last night. My mind has been a little stuck on lows. What do they feel like? How confused can you get when low? Do people get lost? Do they do really bizarre things? Do they eventually, somehow, miraculously figure out how to "help" themselves? Does the hypoglyemic's best friend, The Liver, always save the day? What?

You see.

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This past Thursday, while on the playground at school, the following took place:

Ms. Awesomeness (not her real name - duh, but a description of what she is to me), who is trained in Joe's care and is one of his biggest fans and advocates, was on playground duty. She noticed that Joe had ran from the field and into the school building door right by the Health Office.

Normal "leave the playground protocol" is the children are to ask an adult for permission prior to departing. Ms. Awesomeness took a mental note of Joe's exit. If he did not re-appear in a few moments she would go look for him.

A few minutes passed.

No Joe.

Ms. Awesomeness left the playground to search out Joe. When she found him, he was wandering the hallways of the school shaky and somewhat disoriented. She asked him what he was doing and he had stated that he was going to see the nurse. Mind you the Health Office is right inside the door that Joe had entered the school through. Joe was NOT by the Health Office. When checked, Joe's blood glucose was 70 with double arrows down on Dexter (a fast drop, >3mg/dl/min).

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It scares me to think of my son, as he grows and matures and exerts his independence, aimlessly walking around trying to get help. BUT. He doesn't even know how or where to go to get it. His "low" jello-y, fogg-y, flounder-y sugar-less starving brain cells are preventing him from figuring out how to get the life-saving assistance that is needed.

This is the hardest part of explaining "d" to non"d" peeps for me. The reality of the situation is that the brain can ONLY use sugar as a fuel source. LOW BLOOD SUGAR = DECOMPENSATION of YOUR BRAIN FUNCTION ("neuroglycopenia"). You cut a finger, you put a band aid on it. You get a cold, you take cold medicine. You have high blood pressure, you remember to take your anti-hypertensives. You have asthma, you grab your inhaler. Do you see a theme here? For all of these ailments, you are able to mentally process the next logical step on how to help yourself. That is not the case with a low blood sugar. The brain is rendered useless.

Grateful for Ms. Awsomeness as I continue the day-in-the-life parenting my son with type 1 diabetes.

THE MAN, BEHIND THE WOMAN, BEHIND "THE BUDDIES"

NaBloPoMo: Day 25
Special thanks to Misty's MeMe post, Cindy's candidness, and Renata's gracious post for giving me the courage to post on my husband and our relationship with "d" in the mix.


Nyquil, Ibuprofen, Afrin, Advair, and Xopenex are my best friends. Well, I take that back, my husband is my best friend. He manned the house, kids, dinner and movie night while I was medicated and sedated for the previous 13 hours. My drug-induced medicinally-crafted sense of wellbeing has me upright and ready to post this morning. I have decided to share with you, today, about my other half. Not necessarily my better half, come on, you guys knew I wouldn't give him that much credit. I am your vain Portuguese Princess after all. I think with Dave and I, the sum of our halves equals a pretty spectacular, synergistic whole.

Our complements are by far too numerous to list here, but off the top of my Nyquil infused, fogged brain here we go: I am flamboyant, he is reserved. I am a laborious work-horse, he knows when to "take it easy". I am emotional, he is even-keeled. I am a social butterfly, he tends to keep his social circle tight. I hate to shop, he is my grocery store and Costco monkey boy. I like things tidy, he is somewhat of a slob. I am carefree with the children, he is a little uptight. He keeps tabs on the family finances, I could not be bothered with such mundane details. I am the full-time pancreas, he will step in when needed. He sits with the children to teach them "important" life lessons, I am more the "day-to-day" manager of the crew. He is 110% about anything he feels passionate about, I am more like 85% about everything. I would do anything for our family, he would do anything for our family...

and he does...

This man works 50+ hours a week to provide for his family. He leaves the house with a smile on his face, a positive attitude, always looking to make it a good day. He picks-up the night time blood glucose checks on the weekend to give me a break and will often take over during the week if my work schedule fills-up. He loves to laugh, he loves computer games, he loves beer, pizza, and hockey. He rarely complains...only if it is hot... I won't go into his hyperhydrosis issue. He recognizes when he needs to change, to improve upon something and he does. He is open to criticism. He actually welcomes it and he utilizes it to improve upon himself. After my Food Rage with the Shrimp Guy in the Buffet line post (a good one, by the way), Dave stepped it up, and has learned to take Joe out to eat without me! He makes me feel loved, accepted, and adored. He loves me unconditionally even when the "Bitch Switch" is ON. He has been loving me for over half of my life now. We met in 1990 as freshmen in college and have been together since (sans one tiny break-up). I would not be who I am today without the love and support of this man.

When we were discharged from the hospital after Joe's diagnosis, a nurse gave me a book. This book had nothing to do with the pathophysiology of Type 1, it had nothing to do with the rigorous management that this newly diagnosed condition required, it had nothing to do with the latest and greatest research. It was a book about how parenting a child with type 1 can affect your marriage.

Huh?

Funny, at the time that baffled me.

I was somewhat prepared to lance, poke, expel blood, read meters, measure and weigh food, and inject my son with insulin, but I was not prepared for strain on my marriage. The thought had not even crossed my over-loaded, fact-burdened mind. There it was. In black and white, the day-in and out strain on a couple managing type 1 in their child causes rifts, strain, separation, resentment, the list could run on and on I am sure.

While I read this book, 2 days after diagnosis, I would think "not us", "heck no", "Dave and I are a team to the end", "this book is talking about other people", "we are as solid as they come". And we are, we were, we will be... "solid", "durable", "dependable". Have we stumbled? Sure. Have there been times where I felt resentful? Hell, yes. Have there been times where I have kicked him out of his peaceful slumber to do the night check because I cannot lift my weary head? Absolutely.

For the first couple of years after diagnosis the previous question and answer session would not have occurred. BUT, like water seeps and wears and carves the rock of this earth, diabetes seeps into everything, marrs relationships, ebbs into our interpersonal connections, especially marriage. I like to think this is normal; that Dave and I are like many of you. We carry on, we balance busy lives in addition to the daily rigors of "d", and that perhaps we will emerge a more loving, caring, cohesive team through it all.

"D" minutely seeping, carving, transforming everything, everyday, during my day-in-the-life parenting a child with type 1 diabetes.

A CONFECTION CONFESSION

NaBloPoMo: Day 24
I have a head cold. I caught it a day or so ago. You know, the kind where you sneeze uncontrollably and snot goes flying everywhere, dripping down your face, splattering on the computer keyboard. The kind where you cannot have a tissue ready quickly enough. Not pretty I know, but come on we have all been there and I speak the truth. When I try to clear my ears from the pressure I can feel the congestion vice pull and pop and ooze into any evacuous space made available by the equilibrium attempt. My skin recoils to the cool breeze as it caresses my hot and achy flesh (ok that sentence sounded a little x-rated - sorry). I will not let this cold keep me from my NaBloPoMo challenge . JUST.SIX.MORE.DAYS! Forgive me if this post "sucks it", as there is no room in my gray matter for an inkling of a creative thought as it is being compressed by thick, congealed, gluey mucous.

ONTO THE POST... which, was inspired by Renata's post.

WARNING... the Bitch Switch ... is ON...

"What is it with me? Honestly?" I asked Dave the other night. We had gone to Joe's Open House at school. I knew that there would be a bake sale and I had fore warned the children that we would not partake in the confection-palooza that was commencing in the school lobby.

Now, let me stop and explain something real quick here. I am not a "carb tight wad". I am more than open to Joe having treats here and there. Hell, I took him to McDonalds last night due to my sickened, unable to cook, mucous smothered state. And you guys remember the Sour Patch Kid incident at Nanny McPhee (little "c", BIG "P"). I am fine with him partaking in birthday party treats, classroom treats, celebratory treats, holiday treats...treats. However, with that being said, we cannot, heck even non-"d" peeps should not, be indulging in the plethora of sugar-laden, high fructose corn syrup-saturated, fat-infused, white flour-based baked goods that is offered in our society on a daily basis. OK. Got it? So I am cool with food, cool with carbs in moderation, and I like me a Quarter Pounder with Cheese (to feed a cold).

Back to the open house.

First off, let me brag, braggity, brag, brag, brag about my kids. Bridget and Joe handled themselves beautifully regarding the baked goods sale. They did not ask for anything. They did not make a scene. They accepted it and they enjoyed their evening at the open house. David and I, too, had a lovely evening.

I was, however, insanely aware of the cookies, cupcakes, and brownies that were swarming around me in the school hallway. The hyper-awareness was acute. It was like my visual field was a tunnel, blurred on the periphery, focused on the lips, the teeth, the mouths of treat-enjoying children. It was like the world was silenced or somewhat muted and the sticky crumbs, the icing globs, and the sprinkles that were stuck to the children's lips were taunting me. It even appeared like a gluttonous feeding frenzy, at times, with tops of frosted cup cakes crammed into little mouths. I was bitter. Four years into this and I still struggle with these feelings. Not often, but I do. I'll admit it. AND. For what? I could have easily let Bridget and Joe have a frosted, sprinkled, sugar-infused confection. Why was I so dead set against it on this particular night? Was it control? I have no answer really.

I think it is times like these, that I am reminded that as hard as I try to say "hey world we are normal!" or "hey world, look at us we really are no different than you!" or "hey world Joe can really eat what he wants as long as I dose his insulin correctly!". That last sentence, you and I know, is a bunch of bull shit. I mean, yes, I can measure, weigh, calculate, and guesstimate with the best of 'em, but Joe cannot just sit down with a bag of chips, with a sleeve of cookies, with a bottomless vat of mac-and-cheese. The margin of error is magnified when larger numbers are programed into our Insulin:Carb Ratios and our Correction Formulas. The margin of error can make for a horrible few hours. The margin of error.

(silence)

(sigh)

(snot sniffle)

Bottom line, I get jealous. This is hard for me to admit. I get jealous that Joe cannot just sit and eat, stuff his face to his heart's content, cram in a fistful of chips or eat that sleeve of Thin Mints. Four years, and I am intermittently stuck on this. The unfairness of it.

A sick day-in-the-life of my issues with type 1 in my child's life.

Now, faithful followers head on over to Hallie's and enter yet another sAwEET SUGAR BOLUS at The Princess and the Pump.

AND...

Don't forget it is Blogger Basal Friday at Heidi's D-Tales.