Returning to Normal

It has been a while, hasn't it? I've missed you! ;-)

We are getting back to normal (whatever that means!) since our Type 1 Diabetes diagnosis in late May. It is getting easier, day by day. We try to look for the positives.  For one, candy is her medicine for low sugar. Which adds a new dimension to mom-guilt when I eat the rockets....

Our daughter is learning first hand that you play the hand you are dealt, manage it and get on with the game. A negative attitude is a deal breaker and this is a great lesson. She has awesome role models with this disease, including her first crush. A cowboy named, Luke Branquino, who has Type 1. He's a steer wrestler. She blushes when she denies that she likes him. Adorable!

The worst part of this is the needles. When she cries about it, I cry with her. I hate it. Finger pokes at least four times a day--they hurt like a deep paper cut. When I do one on myself to support her, I instinctively pull my finger away. It hurts--no two ways about it. And the insulin--well, that hurts as bad as any other needle you've ever had. The two kids I know well with the disease are the bravest, toughest people I know. Hands down.

Type 1 Diabetes is an autoimmune disorder. Our daughter's body feels the pancreas is an invasive organism that it must fight and kill. It is about converted food energy in your blood. Carbohydrates are converted to sugar in the blood and that sugar feeds your cells providing the energy to do things like breathe, walk and move.

I thought we had a high carbohydrate based diet--after all we love fruit and bread in this house. But we soon discovered we have many, many low or zero carb meals. Foods in the same food category differ--some have carbs, some don't....Huh? What??

At first it was really confusing. And we "filled in" missing carbs with things like ice cream, cookies or crackers because we were desperate to hit the target number. Quite literally, our daughter has had more sugar based foods since her diagnosis than she had in her 7 years of life before that. That was frustrating, but a part of the learning. Now we have the tools to work with what she is eating instead of feeding the insulin.

I'm learning to let go a bit because this disease challenges and frustrates my control freak nature. The truth is you can't "control" this disease in a way that would suit a control freak like me. It changes constantly. In fact, her blood sugar level can change dramatically in a matter of minutes and go from high to low in 30 minutes or less.  

This is our new normal. I can't change what she has to endure every day...that is the worst blow of all.

Never More Than You Can Handle

A quick prick of a needle on the end of a finger changed our world a few nights ago.  As the doctor in the Emergency Room at the Children’s Hospital in Calgary spoke with calm certainty, my mind was spinning.

"The diagnosis for your daughter is Type 1 Diabetes." said in that matter-of-fact tone that only doctors and customer service reps seem to have. It echos in my ears and head. I'm silenced in disbelief.

“Are you sure it’s that? Could it be something else? The symptoms are so vague and your diagnosis is so simple. How can that be? You are wrong. And you are an idiot!” I scream at full Mommy volume in my head.

"Get out of here! Take your stupid diagnosis with you!" I glare. Outwardly, all that he sees is my eyes burning with tears and me swallowing hard to hold back my rage.

I am raging inside. At the doctors who can do a simple pin prick on the finger and deliver life altering, devastating news. I am raging at the evils of this world that make such a disease attack an innocent child. I am raging that she lays drained of all energy and normal colouring and can barely speak.

 “Type 1 Diabetes. Why her? She’s so clever and funny and just the best little girl ever. What did she ever do to warrant this? Why not ME? I’ve done many things in my life that I’m not proud of. Give me the damn disease and just let her be a kid. What did I do wrong?” Thought after thought come to mind. It’s a flury of everything and nothing. 

Is she hurting, does this mean she can’t do certain things? She's never been sicker than a cold. How the hell does this happen? What about this treatment—what are the risks? How long will she be in here? At least she's getting the best quality of care. I better phone Nana and Sister in Law. Good Lord! She's so small and watching the IV go in damn near kills me. I know its not the worst news we could get. Yet at this moment it feels like someone sucked the life out of my lungs.

How will we deal with this....I don't know the answer, but I'm certain we will. I know we are never handed more than we can handle, but sometimes that seems like a fallacy.

Another sad reality: it isn't just us. Close friends had their daughter diagnosed just two days before. Sick.

Life with an Alien

I'm not sure when it happened, but one night I tucked my Angel Face into bed. In the morning someone else was in her place.

The hair and eyes looked the same. The voice sounded the same, but abruptly changed to a distorted, whiney screaming. About everything. Since that day, things have not been the same around here.

I expect the whining--that's just a kid thing designed to pay us back for all the things we did to our parents. Whining I dispise, but I can live with. The over the top reaction to everything is what sends us all running for cover waiting for it to be over.

Friends with grown kids reminisce about their kids' teenage years. I listen intently to their descriptions because they sound vaguely familiar. Its like living with an alien they say. You should just shake hands and make friends--they will be here for a while they tell me. A few years, maybe.

My quivering lip is mistaken for sadness at my baby growing up. Really it's just the thought of "a few years, maybe". They are talking about teenagers. I'm not.

7 is the new 16. Someone could have told me.

Where There's Smoke, There Are No Mosquitos

Made our traditional maiden camping voyage for the 2011 season.

Traditionally it snows on us on May long weekend. It's just part of the charm of camping at this time of year. This year was different, though. Nope. No snow. Just rain and wind. Then it got to the mid 20s (celsius for any US readers). It was beautiful on Saturday and even Sunday was warm inspite of the cloud cover.

There were only two problems this weekend. Mosquitos. Pesky, buzzing blood suckers who turned the kids faces and necks into connect the dot maps. Hated to do it, but had no choice--went for the full on bug spray with heavy DEET concentration--yup. I broke out the Deep Woods Off.

Before you chastise me for putting that stuff on my kids, I tried the lower level kids stuff. It didn't work. These were not regular mosquitos. They were the killer bees of mosquitos. They swarmed the truck when we pulled up. Then they swarmed us. I'm not kidding. You didn't dare open your mouth because they would choke you in a second. It was seriously worse than Manitoba in mid July.

Really, I hold the province of Alberta responsible. They instituted a fireban, so we couldn't even get a smoldering fire going to smoke the mosquitos out. You are supposed to come home from camping stinking like a campfire mixed with bug spray. Honestly, its hot! Truly, camping without a camp fire is like smoking without a cigarette--its just not the same. I'm guessing here--I don't smoke!

Work From Home Lunacy

I've learned a some things by working from home. In addition to learning that only a lunatic tries to work when kids are at home and awake, here's another....

I have learned that IKEA kitchen tables are really, really sturdy. Any time I took a work phone call my kids would wait a minute or two to see if I would be more than a few minutes.  Then when the time was just right....wait for it...they would jump on the kitchen table. I don't mean hop up on it, I mean step onto it with their dirty little feet and start jumping like its a trampoline. Together. At the same time. Their heads just missing the kitchen light that hangs over the table, but the breeze still making it sway. Somehow they avoid falling right off with the skill and precision of a circus performer.

There I am trying to pay attention to my client and sound professional. All the while I'm wildly waving them off the table and giving my very best crazy mom look to get them off. Mouthing "GET DOWN" in full shout. It failed. Every single time. Because really, what else was I going to do?

"Yes, very important client/colleague, would you please hold--yes, I just have go scream like a banshee at my children and lock them in the closet so I can finish this call. Thank you."

Somehow that doesn't sound right. Then they would hear the telltale words--the clue the fun was about to end. As I closed my phone call and said goodbye, the words weren't out my mouth a nanosecond and they were off the table and back to playing with their toys.

Kids are brilliant--and they have the memory of a knat for anything they have done wrong. The looks of complete confusion and "Who us? When? Doing what?" were Academy Award performances.

For a split second I think I've imagined the whole thing. Until the phone rings and the excited anticipation is palpable. I see them silently exchange an entire conversation with their eyes as they plan their ascent and their escape routes.

Yes, I have learned that to work from home with children around definately requires special tools. Phones, faxes and computers with internet. But most important is a very sturdy kitchen table. I would never have guessed.