I Just Know I'm Different

I really didn't want this day to come.  Ever since the diagnosis of Type One Diabetes, I dreaded the day when Michael knows that not everyone lives with this illness.  He got a tiny taste of it in daycare just months after diagnosis when he was a little two-year-old boy.  He doesn't remember this though.

But now he's five and in kindergarten and as smart as a whip, let me tell you!  He understands that not every boy and girl goes to the nurse's office (sometimes MULTIPLE times a day!).  He has even helped the nurse explain to his class what diabetes is, and what happens if his blood sugar is not in normal range. "When my blood sugar is high (insert hands raised above head) I need insulin to bring it down.  When my blood sugar is low, (insert hands moving back and forth down by the knees) I need something to bring it up (insert two thumbs up) like juice!"  We smile at his cuteness and then our breath catches a bit as we realize this is a five year old talking about how his life is so medically difficult.

He knows that he is not the same as the others.

I hate to hear him talk about it, but I know he understands.

He comes home nearly every day to tell me about his day and who his best friend is.  Spoiler: it's always the same kid-- he just has to clarify everyday "my best friend B*******."

He was busy telling Noah about the pretend game of Mario or Pokemon that he and his "best friend" were playing and sweet little Noah innocently asks "Does he have diabetes?"
Michael replies "No, he doesn't have diabetes.  I'm different from everybody else in my class.  But he does take medicine.  His medicine is sprinkles mixed into his applesauce."

Now, I don't imagine that this little boy actually takes medicine, and I further doubt that it's in the form of sprinkles in applesauce.  What I learned though, is that his class views insulin as medicine (and most people do, when in fact it's a hormone that you & I have actively working through our own pancreases [pancrei?]).  And apparently, in kindergarten, taking medicine is cool.  So any story that a kid can make up about taking medicine puts them on the same "cool level" as Michael.  And I'm okay with this.  I know there will come a day when he doesn't think having an insulin pump is cool.  But that day is not today, so I have to be okay with his innocent freedom that he has at the moment.

I asked Michael later "Who told you that you were different?"  And he shrugged his shoulders and said "I just know I'm different" and then proceeded to continue playing alongside his brother.

(This is Michael showing his blood sugar reading of 100 which is a perfect number!)

Until Next Time,
Much Love, Reba