I don’t understand diabetes, and I know I never will.
Never has something on this earth made me long so greatly for Heaven in its perfect completeness, absent of all sickness and disease.
I severely dislike diabetes. For some reason, though, I just can’t bring myself to say that I hate it. Diabetes is a part of my son, and for that reason, there can be no hate.
No, I don’t like what it’s capable of doing to his little body—or perhaps what it’s already done.
No, I don’t like having to hold him down during a CGM insertion change while I watch his red face and scared eyes as a needle intrudes into his little self and leaves behind a wire that pings a signal to a receiver every five minutes.
No, I don’t like having to remind him eighty times to keep his hands on top of each other so that he won’t touch the area on his leg that I’ve sterilized with an alcohol swab in preparation of inserting a new pod for his insulin pump.
No, I don’t like having to hold him tightly in the form of a hug while I sing “Only a Boy Named David” (or “Giant Song” as he calls it), while I’m pushing the “start” button on his insulin pump for it to insert a cannula from which he’ll receive insulin for the next three days.
No, I don’t like hearing the ever so slight quiver in his voice when I show him the Personal Diabetes Manager (PDM) screen indicating that it’s giving him insulin, and he asks “Is it going to pop? Is it going to prick?” He’s scared that he’ll be hurt. I give him a warm smile and I say “Nope. No pops or pricks. You don’t have to get another poke for three days. Just sugar checks” (pricking finger for blood-glucose reading). I see the relief wash over him as he realizes that he’s not going to get a shot and he’s not going to be poked.
This disease strips you of comforts that you used to have. Sleeping through the night, watching children play without worrying about blood sugar levels, giving your children a cupcake or a brownie or a cookie just because, etc.
Diabetes is now woven into the fabric of my son. It is part of who he is. I will ever try my hardest to minimize its effect on him.
I love him so.
I love both of my sons, and I pray that my youngest doesn’t get diabetes.
Although I don’t think I’ll ever say I love diabetes, I can say that I cannot hate it, because it is part of my son.
This is the life that we’ve now been given. Wishing for the past doesn’t change the future.
I must learn to use what we’ve been given and treat each day as a blessing, because it is.
Jesus, I don’t know why you chose us for this. But because I know that You’re with us, I ask that you protect my sons. Please keep Michael from being overcome with diabetes. Please keep Noah from getting diabetes.
Please make us grateful in everyday that we get to spend together.
We love You.
Until Next Time,
Much love, Reba