Joe and I had an interesting conversation recently.
The conversation was last week; in the car...and yes, you guessed it, on our way home from some sort of hockey.
"I'm going to go to Saint Michael's."
Joe was talking about a local college. He, apparently, is planning on going to school there in five years. He is, apparently, planning on living with Dave and I while he attends.
"Joe, trust me, you will want to be with your friends. You will not want to live with us. That is OK; it is a normal part of growing up."
Talk of Saint Michael's then turned into a discussion about the University of Vermont, which is about 5 minutes further from our house than Saint Michael's. His plan changed from living at home to living at school, but coming home every weekend to see us, the dogs, and to do laundry. Again, I stated his feelings about this would most likely change.
Not once during this conversation, not once...even over the days following this conversation...did I think of, or consider, diabetes. Over the past nine years, I have gone from micromanaging a preschooler with diabetes, to teaching an elementary-aged child how to perform diabetes-care tasks, to remotely managing a tween with diabetes, and now onto promoting critical thinking skills in a teen with diabetes. I have been anxious, over all of these years, about the day he moves out; about the day when I'm not there to help him.
The future of his day-in-the-life.
1 comment:
Same thing here, but with a less prestigious state school!
I've been actively reminding myself that I thought he'd never poo on a toilet, would never learn to ride a bike, would never be able to count carbs...it seems impossible he will be able to do all of the things, least of all survive without me.
But they do do the things eventually, huh?
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