He Needed A Little "Back Up"

One of the main reasons I write is so others living with t1d feel a little less alone.  While my stories are short, little vignettes of sorts, I hope you get a glimpse of the victories and challenges we face.  Not all stories necessarily reflect us in a positive light.  This is real.  Diabetes has not only impacted Joe's life, or my life, or Dave's life...but it, at times, impacts Bridget's, as well.

A couple of hours ... ago..

I was reading.  I was reading upstairs in my room.  I think I maybe heard some kind of mumble-y call or muffled yell, but I thought it was Bridget and Joe talking about a show they were watching downstairs.  I did not pay the noise much attention.  How long it went on for?  I'm not sure.

Finally...

A very clear "Mom! Dad!  I need help."  And then something was yelled like "23".  My middle-aged brain then put it all together.  Joe is calling for help, he is low, and his number is 23.

As I came downstairs, the scene is set with a sprawled out on the couch Joe, who has a fist-full of Skittles held to his mouth.  He cannot eat them fast enough.  Bridget is curled up on the other couch, the scene is rank with sibling turbulence. Apparently Bridget told Joe to "be quiet", during his multiple calls for help.  This has Joe up in arms, but he was unable to expand on the situation, due the the low treatment of trying to chew and swallow like 20+ Skittles all in one mouthful; not an easy feat.

Once Joe swallowed the masticated Skittles, the sibling conflict continued.  He was quite upset Bridget told him to be quiet, when he was calling for some help; for some, as he put it - "backup".  I expressed some concern over her lack of reaction and compassion.  She left the room.

Joe was shaking.  Joe was hot.  I've never seen him have a low where he felt warm or hot.  The discomfort was motivating enough that he silently made his way to the freezer for peas.  He then sprawled back out on the couch and plopped the bag of frozen peas on his forehead.

I made sure he was OK.  I then went to seek out Bridget.  She was upset with me; with Joe.  She has lived with diabetes in the household for all these 9+ years along with Dave, Joe, and I.  She knows lows are dangerous.  She knows he needs sugar.  She explained her side of the scenario to me ... Joe had his sugar and he had called for help multiple times.  She could hear my footsteps as I was making my way down the stairs; she knew help was coming.  She did not see the need to "do" anything at that point in time.  She did feel it was time for him to keep quiet so she could focus on her show, Grey's Anatomy.  Keep in mind she's a high school student and athlete.  She goes to school full time and practices and performs 6 days/week; she does not get much down-time.  

Diabetes is difficult.  Not always.  Sometimes we are smooth sailing over here and I kinda forget we are dealing with it.  There are times, however, it's not easy for any of us... especially when we are just trying to enjoy a relaxing moment.  I get it Bridget.

Honesty about t1d in our day-in-the-life.

Fair Flu Shot

She slouched down in the passenger seat; her messy top knot bun was getting scrunched  up.

A few days ago during our car ride to the pediatricians office, mentions of flu mist and flu shots peppered the conversation.  Bridget was listening in earnest as Joe talked about live and dead viruses.  The dead ones being what he needed, due to his diabetes.  Unfortunately the dead ones were in the flu shot and not the mist.  Bridget could opt for the flu mist, since she does not have a chronic condition.  Bridget sighed and then slouched down a bit further.  Bun getting scrunched up even more.

Silence took over the moment

Quiet filled the space.

Then Bridget confidently stated "I'll do the shot too...  ... to be fair .. to Joe."

A simple, softly spoken "thanks Bridge" came from the back seat; from Joe.

For the remainder of the car ride, discussions of past vaccine and shot experiences ensued.

They were both nervous, anxious, and worked-up.  

We arrived to the parking lot.  As we exited the car, a hearty and quite unexpected ... "don't BlarT yourself Bridge!" was called out by Joe.  From what I could gather the verb in that statement is two simultaneous expulsions (or explosions; take your pick) from opposite ends of your body.  They were both concerned this may happen to them upon inoculation.

Lovely.  I'm so proud.

Joe and Bridget were hand-in-hand as we maneuvered through the parking lot.

"We are in this together" cried Bridge.

Flu Shot Selfie

Being fair in our day-in-the-life.

Tough Choice

I know better.  I know better.  I know better.  When pray-tell am I going to do better?   I know that he goes high after the movies.  Yes, I crank-up his basal by 100% for an hour and a half while he sits.  And... yes, I even pre-bolus him for an hour of basal while cranking-up the basal.  And... of course I RAGE BOLUS for the "kiddie combo" of popcorn and fun-sized Skittles.  Post-movie, Joe's blood sugar was a titch over 300.  He corrected, under my instruction ... even though part of me knew he would crash, but the 300 got under my skin.  I could not let it be.  After we arrived home, to add insult to injury (aka "activity to correction") we then proceeded to finish out our afternoon by heading over to our local pool and park via bike.  Joe experienced a significant low an hour later.  By "significant", I mean not only was his number low (in the 50s), but his legs became weak and he was out of sorts emotionally.  

Significant lows happen.  Unfortunately, they are not always "convenient" with the pressures of life, parenting, and schedules. 

"You are all that is keeping me going."  His voice was strained.  His pedaling slow.

"I would normally be home by now."  His verbage and demeanor cracking.

"This low has me pedaling at 1 mile per hour." Briefly I saw the humor of his Y chromosomal need to quantify the shitty hand that this low dealt him.

Then he cracked as his bike was listing, tears in his voice "I hate diabetes."

"I know buddy.  Do you need more sugar?"

"Yeah...let's try that."

We stopped, straddling our bikes.  Two more Starbursts were unwrapped and mother-birded.  "Can you keep going Joe?  We need to keep going.  Joe we gotta keep going ... we are going to be late to pick-up Bridge." 

At this moment I was hating diabetes too.  Once again, it placed me in a position of feeling like an inadequate parent.  On the one hand, I was left pushing my son to keep biking to get home...to get to our car .... so that we could pick-up Bridget from camp.  I know that biking or any physical exertion on his part was detrimental to him and his recovering blood sugar, yet there I was coaxing him to pedal-on in order to make some sort of progress. On the other hand, it, diabetes, was now going to take away a timely showing for Bridget at her first day of camp.

After the Starburst pit stop, the bike riding was not going well.  Joe was too weak to make it up the final two hills to our home.  His number was recovering, but physically he had not "caught up".  So, I had a tough choice to make.  Many of you may question my judgement.  Not sure if it was the right thing.  I ditched him.  I ditched him in a lawn about two to three blocks from our house.  I left him with his bike and Woodchuck (his diabetes supply bag).  "Mom is going to speed home and get the car Joe.  If you feel you are dropping, take more sugar.  I'll be right back."  Leery of my decision and still a bit pissed at the disease, I parted with Joe.

I hauled ass home only to realize that my keys were in Woodchuck (ya know...the "Woodchuck" I left a few blocks back with Joe).  Expletives were flying off the tip of my parched tongue like rapid machine gun fire as I hauled booty back to Joe and Woodchuck.  Upon approaching Joe, I was relieved to see him sitting upright and color returning to his face.  I snatched the keys from Woodchuck and then hauled booty back home and hopped into the car to haul booty back to Joe and then onto haul booty to pick-up Bridget from her first day of camp.

I was 7 minutes late.

A tough choice in our day-in-the-life of managing type 1 diabetes. 

The Hill

"The way I look at it guys is that we have one of two options." We were faced with a dilemma on our "Adventure Ride" yesterday. Joe and I were in-line skating. Bridget was biking.

Bridget was glinting her eyes in the face of the blaring sun while trying to focus on me. Joe was crumpled by the side of a heavily traffic-ed road taking on sugar.

"We can either turn around and go back home on the same path that we took to get here. It is mostly down hill. It would be easier...blah...blah..."

"OR?" they chimed in.

"We can wait until Joe feels better and continue on up the hill. It is a big one. It will be challenging...blah...blah...blahbitty..."

As she was staring straight ahead and straddling her bike at the base of the steeply graded hill with the traffic whizzing by her, Bridget quietly stated under her breath "I hate Diabetes".

In a calm and amiable tone, Joe evenly stated "Me too Bridget."

I said nothing.

In unison, they agreed to take on the hill.

A day-in-the-life.

Joe's Interview Of "The Bridge" (Jonah Style)

As Joe was soaking his big toe (another story that diabetes overshadows and that will most likely come to text in the next day or two) in a warm saline infused tub of water, the children seemed to be winding down from a busy New Year's Day. They were both agreeable to participating in the interview that Jonah, from JonahDiabetic had done with two of his brothers. Jonah's brothers were quite deep in their interviews. Actually "The Tree" was deep and if memory serves me right..."The Bed" was brief. Bridget (aka "The Bridge" goin' Jonah-style here) was neither short on words nor on depth. My favorite parts were where she describes diabetes as an "adventure that goes on forever" and when she says "Dad is a little helpful" in the whole "d" routine. Sorry in advance about the couple of references to death ...oh...and the hiccups...and the Oscar crotch shot...and the laugh at the "Dave dig" (hehe Renata).

The Interview

1. What do you want BETA BUDDIES readers to know about you?

2. What has been the worst part of having a brother with diabetes?

3. Has there been anything positive for you about having a brother with diabetes? Bridget mentions a "basal assessment" in this answer. For non-D-Peeps and non-pumpers, a basal assessment is where you limit activity, no carbohydrates are consumed, and you check blood sugars every hour to every other hour to determine if your underlying insulin rates (basal rates) are adequate. She apparently is a big fan of the "watching Tv" part to keep Joe still...hell it is either that or a "velcro suit" to keep his activity idle!

4. How often do you think about diabetes?

5. What would you say to somebody who just had a family member diagnosed with diabetes?

6. Anything else that you would like to add? Yah..you betcha - Like mother like daughter!

A day-in-the-life of being the sibling to a person with type 1 diabetes.

Related Links:Pickle Jars On Scooters, Stapled Pillows For The Haitians...Oh My!!! and GUILT and Something Different For Everyone

Something Different For Everyone

"Bridget that will not cure it!"

I was mascara-ing my lashes with the oscillating-wanded Lancome black inky goodness and thought I heard some "scuttle-butt" from my two little trolls.

"It is worth a try Joe..." Bridget's response to Joe's outburst was heard over the mascara wand vibrations.

At this point, I was then "lashed-out" and ready for my day. I came out of the master bedroom to find out what was going on. Joe looked plussed. I asked Joe what he was upset about. He responded that Bridget thinks she can cure diabetes. He was not in like mind and he didn't seem amused that "the cure" was being taken on by his 9 year old sister. This is big shit! The cure. I am sure it was a little insulting to Joe that his sister thinks she can figure it out when world-renowned researchers are left empty-handed. To think his ass has been a giant (he got my butt genes) pin cushion for the past 4 years...not to mention his calloused fingers... the lows... the highs... the restrictions... the stares... the regimen... the routine... the neverending-ness of it all has been going on and on and on... and his sister now has the answer! His 9 year old sister has it all "figured out" between reading Harry Potter books and watching Phineas and Ferb! I guess he must have felt jipped somewhat.

Then...

Bridget kindly takes over the conversation (she got my gabby genes) to speak her "peace". She emphatically stated that she thought that microscopic analysis of the melted snow from Joe's boot would hold the answers that we were seeking. She went on to explain that maybe the scientists had it all wrong. "The cure" is perhaps different for each person with diabetes. What if diabetes could be cured by what people love? Joe loves to ice skate. Snow and ice should cure Joe. "Cure it, diabetes, with what they, the persons with diabetes, enjoy and love the most" is Bridget's current hypothesis. Pure. Beautiful. Deep. I get it.

And, again...

No, I am not making this shit up. She even stained the melted boot snow with Methylene Blue!

We have TWO days to fill up the Diabetes Research Institute's "Be Part Of The Cure" banner. Joe is on the right side of the "U" (about mid way up).


A day-in-the-life of the dreaming of, the supporting of, and the talking of the elusive cure.

Related Links:

Magic (Joe's wish from Santa...a CURE)

Envision The Positive (my view on "hope")

Pickle Jars on Scooters! Stapled Pillows for the Haitians!!! Oh MY!!!

Her plans are big-hearted. Her heart runneth over with love, emotion, and the desire to help others. She is sweet. She is sensitive. She is animated. She can hit a pitch with her piercing screech that makes me want to birth a porcupine (thanks Elizabeth from Pieces Of My Life for a term I wish I came up with) rather than listen to it for one second longer.

Her ideas fly off of her tongue in rapid succession...one after another... barely a breath in between... her ideas to help Cure Diabetes... her ideas to help the Haitian children... her ideas to provide food to the hungry... her ideas to comfort children in the hospital. She is Bridget. She is my daughter. She is my first born. She is Joe's sister.

Sherry from Jenna's Pet Monkey and Alexis from Justice's Misbehaving Pancreas declared November 28th "Special Sib of a D Kid Day"! I am a little "tardy to the party" on this one. I apologize. I have some great Bridget posts and I am always wanting to share more about this amazing creature that has graced my life since August 8, 2001.

The Staple Story...

Her dreams and goals and desires are huge! Help the Haitian kids! Sure she is on it. Never mind that her idea, a good and kind-hearted one, had some flaws. She wanted to ship over a bunch of homemade pillows. She had started making them with 12inch squares of fabric that she stuffed and then proceeded...unbeknownst to me... to staple them together. Yes, I said "staple". So, great plan. However, the mechanics of the plan... you know, the "staple part", not so much. When she proudly displayed her finished "stapled" pillow product to me, I had to stifle my laughter. Can you just imagine those poor children laying their sweet heads down on these small staple-laden pillows? OUCH. Or, I was envisioning the Haitian kids waking up from their restful night with pillows hanging from their heads, as the staples would most likely become entangled in their hair while they slumbered. So, let's just say a sewing machine is on Bridget's wish list for Christmas this year.

Then there is the Pickle Jar on the Scooter incident...

How to even begin ... how has this life affected her? changed her? She is a willing participant in Joe's care, always desiring to learn more: how to check Joe's blood sugar number, how to bolus, how to carb count. She takes notes on his numbers, transcribes the "Diabetes" section of the World Book Encyclopedia into her polka dot notebook, and diligently studies the Calorie King. She once taped a glass pickle jar to her scooter and went door-to-door, again...unbeknownst to me, collecting money from neighbors for diabetes research...a sign asking "Please help us find a cure for Type 1" secured to her handle bars. I explained that a glass jar taped to the scooter that was cruising up and down the 'hood, over uneven cement pavement, was perhaps a dangerous choice for obvious reasons So, that ended that round of fundraising for her. This was no matter. You see, she has a whole list of back-up ideas and plans: selling tattoos, a lemonade stand, coins for a cure, cans for a cure...and on...and on.

This disease has had an impact on each of us...perhaps on Bridget most of all. The guilt weighs on me as a parent, it is heavy, it takes its toll. It hurts to be unable to shield her from the unfairness of the attention Joe receives with the day-in, day-out, hour-to-hour care and vigilance that type 1 demands of us...demands of us as a family. I know it is what it is. This is our journey, our story and it is meant to be. I hope we, as our story unfolds, as it progresses, and in the end...are the better for it...especially Bridget.

A day-in-the-life of celebrating my girl!

Other Bridget Posts:

GUILT

The Unsung Hero

BLINK (The No D Day Post)

SPELUNKING, IT IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK

Anyone who has visited us later in the evening after 8pm or so...has gotten the pleasure of seeing Dave and I be-bop through our house with a head-lamp on...you know the type most people use camping or like my sister will be using soon (in her 100 mile race through the night). I don't know if it was the sleep deprivation or what, but it took Dave and I a couple of months to figure out that we needed a little extra light to be able to shuffle in-and-out of our son's room through the night to check his blood sugar...you can imagine how difficult a task this would be to do with limited light...pricking his tiny fingers, squeezing out a little drop of blood and then lining it up correctly with the strip that is inserted into the glucometer. Dave had the brilliant idea of using a headlamp...so we have danced through our living room, wearing the headlamp, with the bulb turned on...in front of our company while heading to Joe's room...yes, sometimes wine was possibly involved...

Well, anyone with one type 1 kid...who has other kids...knows that you are always concerned that the other child/children in the family are going to get type 1 as well. It is like all of a sudden you have a built in "Water-Consuming Radar" and "Pee-Meter". I am constantly aware of Bridget's water consumption and how many times she uses the bathroom...and listening for the splash of the urine hitting the toilet...to gauge how much she is voiding. A few times, within a year and a half after Joe was diagnosed, Dave and I had checked her blood sugar number. Bridget is really afraid of needles...so we had done the checks at night while she was sleeping...did I mention Bridget is a light sleeper? Anyways, we got away with a couple of checks without her waking. The last time we checked her...or attempted to...put a stop to this practice. I headed in with the Spelunking Gear on...and ooohhhh so quietly tried to shift the covers around to grab her delicate finger and was getting the lancet ready to prick her finger ...when her eyes suddenly open...and she stares at me wide-eyed and fearful...the light from the headlamp illuminating this image of what I am doing to my child...scaring her.

It was from this point forward, that Dave and I have decided to be upfront with Bridget...we talk openly about diabetes...Is she concerned she is going to get it? Does she realize mom and dad worry at times that she may get it etc? One thing that we always reinforce that if she does, (which it is not likely)...we will all be OK...we know the ropes of this diabetes thing...and Joe even let's her know that he will help her with the "set changes"; like she helps him.

We haven't checked Bridget's number for over a year now...we know the signs and symptoms all too well. We will not miss them...In looking at some of these posts, my parental judgement may be questioned...I know. I was a worried mom that needed a concrete number to help soothe my nerves and worries...selfish.

On a side note, we don't use the head-lamp anymore...I am not sure if we have turned into vampires or something with all our late night and early morning checks, but our vision has adjusted to doing blood sugar checks in the dark...illuminated only by the hall light.

BRIDGET

OK...just went to sit down with Dave - who is moaning for a thermometer...b/c I guess he is sick (he has a flair for drama when he is under the weather)...anyways, I was thinking about my attempt at this blogging thing so far...and couldn't shake the guilt of not mentioning Bridget...or writing something about this amazing human being.

She gets the shaft...a lot: in the food department: "sorry Bridget...no seconds on pasta, bread, cereal, etc" (she knows it is b/c Joe cannot necessarily have seconds...and sometimes Joe will catch-on and say it is OK if she has seconds...and sometimes...I don't know if he is paying attention or not, but no response from him...so she goes without). I have worked on this aspect of our life over the past year or so...realizing this is not a healthy food relationship for Bridget, nor is it a good sibling control issue that I had inadvertently caused. It was just so dang difficult to manage a 3 year-old/4 year-old/ 5 year-old's carb intake...and then to have a sibling to eat just whatever she wanted. For the most part, Bridget handles herself with grace and rarely complains. I am however,trying to change this situation that I have created.

She is truly Joe's biggest fan...for a year or so, she would put on shows (dances and songs) to entertain Joe to keep his mind off his insulin set change. Every other day Joe has a new needle stuck into his buttocks for insulin delivery from his pump. At times he complains that it is very painful, he has screamed, he has cried. So, we ice the site prior to inserting the needle and Bridget would dance and sing...at times the songs and dances were extremely inappropriate (potty talk etc), but they got the job done. Now he and Bridget watch part of a show or play Lego Star Wars on the X-Box to keep his mind off the task at hand. She is a hero...she never misses an opportunity to help distract him. I feel I am always trying to make-up to her my inadequacies for figuring this thing out and maintaining some sort of balance within the family. Again, she is truly amazing...my heart swells with pride and my eyes overflow with tears when thinking of her.