A free day.....

March 17^th, 2013

I started blogging 2 weeks ago and my first 5 blogs took me through the first 24 hours of T1D. The words just flowed from me like water from a faucet about those first 24 hours. I have tried numerous times to continue to blog but now the words are frozen, frozen inside me like the fears I have of this horrible disease. I have so many thoughts that run through my mind at all hours of the day and night, but it seems they run so fast, that I can’t even keep up with them myself.

Yesterday was probably one of the best days we have had in a long time. We got up, ate breakfast then started to attack the back yard. We live in Arizona and have had a lot of rain lately (yep, it actually rains from time to time), and now with the warm weather coming in, the weeds are taking over. The back yard was knee deep in weeds. So my son and I set out on a mission. We pulled weeds, used the hula hoe, trimmed the grapefruit, then we saw them…about 5 grapefruits still left towards the top of the tree. So there I go, trying to climb this tree to get the grapefruit…there stands my 10 year old boy in awe. My mom..she can climb a tree! Yes, son, mommy can do lots of things! J Then, my son wants a stab at it…up he goes, up this tree, his knees knockin just  a bit, but he did it, a little anyway. It’s a small tree, but enough for him to climb a bit. So down he climbs with no grapefruit. Hmmm…up he goes again, determined to get this grapefruit, a little further he stretches he arm up and he has it! Joy, joy over getting a grapefruit! He climbs down and was thrilled! He continued playing in the tree for a bit, all the while Im standing there “just in case”. Not standing “just in case” because a fear of going low, but standing “just in case” he fell out of the tree. I believe for those 30 minutes neither one of us remembered “D”. “D” had disappeared for awhile, and it was the best 30 minutes in a long time.

For the next 2 hours, I pulled weeds, and started to use the blower to blow out all the leaves. My son, my 10 year old son, now in awe of this power tool! A typical boy…MOM, CAN I USE THAT? Oh why not, here, have at it. Just blow all the leaves out of the rocks and onto the lawn. So there he goes, my little man, power blower in hand, having a blast! He soon tires of the blower and switches to the hose! I continued yard work while I watched my son play in the hose. Squirting the sky, watering the walls, squirting the dirt to make mud, laughing, spinning, running, forgetting…forgetting “D”. I stood and watched this beautiful time as “D” was not in the picture. It was just me, my son, the warm sun and a hose, not a care in the world.

The yard work got finished, and when it did it was play time! My son always knows when the yard work is finished, its time to soak mom with the hose. Of course this has always been his favorite part of the work! So there he is, hose in hand, spraying me, giggling, running, smiling…forgetting. There was so much mud created from all the water that we then just squished our toes in the mud, splashed the mud around, then got the ole football out and continued to play a little bit of football.

It was a perfect day, a happy day, a day like before. We are just 4 days shy of his 1 year diagnosis and I believe that we are now getting over that “shock and awe” just a little bit, and can see life peaking back in. Don’t get me wrong, we having been living life throughout this past year, he’s been going to school, going to Jump Street, having friends come over, going to his soccer games and such. But it seems like “D” was always lurking there in the frontal lobe of the brain. Today, it wasn’t, today was a glimpse of what the rest of his life is going to be. Happy, giggling, running, jumping, playing and being FREE. Free not to worry all the time. “D”for now,  is always going to be here, but we are dealing with it, conquering it, and beating it. Not to mean we have found a cure, but meant that we have beat it in the fact that it cant consume life anymore. It has sucked enough out of him, out of me, out of life, and now, “D”, can suck it, we are getting our life back.

Children with DIABETES - It's Not Just a Numbers Game

I was on the "TYPE 1 NATION" last night and came across another memeber/bloggers page. She had posted the below link which I was lucky enough to click on. The video is about 40 minutes long but what a WONDERFUL seminar. If you are new to T1D or even an old pro, this is worth 40 minutes of your time. I laughed, I cried and I learned, I learned that "its not just a numbers game", its life now. Hope you enjoy as much as I did....

children with DIABETES - It's Not Just a Numbers Game

Death of a Pancreas 5.......The end of the first 24 hours with T1D.

March 21st, 2012


I know that my son's father had "lost it" and needed a minute to compose himself. My son is asking where dad went and Marylee explains "dad just needed a minute, he is sad and its okay to be sad and its okay to cry". So a few minutes later, my son's dad returns, sits down and we finish up our 1st of many training sessions and we head out. With our diabetic child in tow, down to the parking lot, dad says his goodbyes for the evening and I load up my son, with his diabetic supplys and we head home as well. What a journey this is going to be as this was all just the 1st 24 hours of diagnosis.....

We get home, I put my son into my bed, turn on the TV for him and I hear those beautful words..."MOM, IM HUNGRY", can I have something to eat? Hungry, my son, he's hungry, for the first time in what seems like forever, he is hungry. I shot of insulin just a hour or 2 before and my son is hungry. Yes, honey, yes of course you can have something to eat. What would you like? Your Dr said to feed you what ever you want and as much as you want, so what will it be? Bacon. Mom, can I have some bacon and an egg?
Yep, bacon and egg it is. So into the kitchen I go and fry up 4 pieces of bacon and 1 egg. Take it to my son and he devours it. Such a beautiful site. Mom, that was the best bacon I have ever had, can I have some more? More? You want more? Of course, you can have more. So into the kitchen I go and I fry up 6 more pieces of bacon and 2 more eggs and take that into my son. I then watch my son eating like he has never ate before. He devours the remaining 6 pieces of bacon and 2 more eggs and is now full and he is already feeling better. 10 pieces of bacon and 3 eggs. Thats the first thing he wanted to eat after being diagnosed with T1D. Watching him eat was the most beautiful thing I had seen. We can do this, we got this. T1D, you have screwed with the wrong mom. You will not win, you will not succeed, you will not control as I will kick your ASS everytime you try to manipulate my son. I have insulin, I have tools, I will win, you will NOT devour my son, you will not destroy my son. I will be there watching, waiting and like a Mamma Bear, i will be there to kick your butt everytime I see your sneaky little ways trying to creep in and take over. I AM HERE TO STAY and I will devour you as I have the INSULIN to gobble you up and make you go away.

Death of a Pancreas....Part 4

March 21st 2012

As I am finally able to gather my son and myself and make our way to the car, I am in a total shock. I manage to get us home, all in one piece but I do not recall the drive. I manage to maintain a someone normal day, reassuring my son that all will be okay. Trying to keep myself off the internet, now that was challenging and no, I did not stay off the internet. Once the little man was down for the night, the laptop came on and I was like a mad woman trying to search everything and anything I could find on Diabetes. Now at this point, I have no idea that there is more than 1 kind of Diabetes and his Dr did not express anything other than "you have Diabetes".
So the race is on and the search begins. If you've ever done a search for Diabetes you will know that mostly everything is geared towards Type 2. So mostly everything I read that night was for Type 2 and I have hope. Okay, my son is diabetic, exercise, diet, we will be good. Now mind you, for the majority of my son's life, I have fed him organic fruits and vegtables, organic meats and he didn't even like cakes and cookies until he reached the age of 6 or 7. He has played sports since the age of 3 and has always had a tall lean build. However, as I research this "diabetic monster", I am filled with hope that this wont be so bad. All I gotta do is get him in the gym more, Ill get him on a 2nd sports team and no more McDonalds. Done. We are good. To bed I go.
Wake up and reality sets in. Oh damn, Diabetes, its still here and we have to go to the Endo and fix it. I remember getting to the Endo, my best friend Kris was there, I refer to her as Thelma and I am her Louise! My son's father was there as well. We all sit in this waiting room to hear the fate of my beautiful child. Small talk at its worst and into the room we go.
My son is up on that table thingy, Thelma sitting in the chair and his dad across the room leaning against the counter. I am sitting on that table thingy behind my son. Okay, here we go, Dr Haunke comes in the door. I look at this Dr and am in awe. Really? Is this a joke? How old are you? 12? Talk about Dr. Doogie Howsie. So your supposed to be the man that is going to tell me about my sons fate. You have got to be kidding me you cant be more than 12 years old.
Here it is. The facts. The brutal freaking facts. You cant run, you cant hide, there it is, hitting you in the face, your son is Type 1 Diabetic. There it goes, there goes my heart sinking to my stomache. Okay, what the hell is Type 1. Here goes the Dr with his freaking medical terms, auto ammune disease, pancrease, honeymoon phase, insulin, injections, correction doses, bolus, basil, meters, pokers, Glucose levels, hypoglycemia, hyperglycemia, ketoacidosis, keytones blah blah blah. WTF are you talking about. Your 12, use laymens terms you jerk, I dont need you to try to impress me with your medical terms. Im 40 and I am not smarter than a 5th grader so stop showing off you 12 year old fetus Dr. I have no idea what the hell you are saying and your pissing me off. Breath Christine, breath, dont hit the Dr. Breath breath.
Okay, Dr Doogie Howzer, you say his "pancreas" does not work. Okay, I get it. Okay then, take my pancreas, give it to my son. Easy. Done. How can we get this scheduled? Better yet, take his fathers pancreas. Its not that simple Christine. Of course it is, they do heart transplants, liver transplates all kinds of transplants, take my son's fathers pancreas and give it to my son. I thought that was a brillant idea. Ya, well I guess it doesn't work like that. So for the next 30 minutes we listen to this Dr spew out words of T1D and I start to panic and I realize my little 9 year old son is sitting her listening to this crap. Thelma, yes Thelma, can you please take Michael out to the waiting room so we can talk to the Dr in private. Of course. Thelma then take my beautiful son to the waiting room. I look at my son's father and say "is our son going to die"? His response "I dont know". What the heck do you mean you dont know? Your supposed to know and if you dont know, your supposed to lie to me and tell me "no, he is not going to die, our son is going to be fine". Thats your job "dad", your supposed to be the pillar of strength but no, there you go telling the mother of your child "I DONT KNOW".
Well in comes Dr. Doogie in the door again and I remember blurting out "IS MY SON GOING TO DIE?". No, your son will not die. He is going to live a long and healthy life and do everything that everyone else does. You will just now be his Pancreas. Oh! Really? My son is not going to die, everything else is do-able. I can do this, I can be his Pancreas. By the way, what the heck is the Pancreas??
Well for the next 5 hours my son, his father and I sit through our diabetes training session with Mary lee! Head is spinning as I am taking a drink of water from this fire hose of information. Poke here, put blood there, read meter here, count carbs here, dial up here, inject there, poke poke poke, honeymoon phase, oh, and exercise...ya thats another thing. So I sit here listening to all this information, get a boat load of "stuff" to get us through the night, books, meters, pokers, lancets, insulin, night time insulin, strips, I cant believe all this stuff.
Well now its time. Yep, time for his very first shot. Okay, Michael, do you want to do this yourself or do you want mom to do this for you Marylee asked of my son. "I can do it" I hear come out of my son's mouth. Wow! My brave little man. Okay, here you go. Dial up your pen to X units and take the pen, inject in your tummy and it will be all done.
Iam sitting to the left of my son while my sons dad is to the right, closest to the door. I watch my son pull up his shirt with this big ole insulin pen in his right hand. I look up at my son's father and I see the tears in his eyes. He cant take it. He cant watch. His baby, about to inject a needle in his stomache is too much to bear and he leaves the room. Iam now in "Mamma Bear" mode. Gotta take care of my cub. I watch my son stick the needle in his stomache, push and inject the insulin....WOW! He is so brave. My little man, so brave, so strong, so sweet, MY HERO.

Death of a pancreas.....part 3

March 21st, 2012

.......I sit there still, in this room with blue walls and baseball bat borders, with my beautiful perfect son, frozen, on this chair, that I so desperately searched for. Dr. Cannon has left the room. My head is spinning, my heart is racing, my whole body is trembling and Im holding onto my perfect child for dear life and Im trying with all my might to keep swallowing as I know if I dont,  I will surly vomit all over this floor. I sat there with my son for only God knows how long talking to my son, trying to answer his questions and keep him from being scared. I couldn't stand up just yet as I knew if I did, my legs would give out.
Robert, yes, Robert, we have to call Michael's dad. Phone, get your phone Christine, grab your purse and find your phone. With my son sitting next to me in this room of blue walls, I find my phone. My hands are trembling. Stop it damn it, stop shaking, text your sons dad. Okay, here we go. Robert, I am at the Drs office with Michael, he thinks Michael has Diabetes. "what? your kidding me right?" No, Im not kidding, we have an appt tomorrow with an Endocronologist, can you come? Can you call me? Something, something something. what a way to tell the father of your child that his baby, has Diabetes.
I somehow manage to pull myself together, reassure my perfect that he is going to be just fine, when in my heart and brain, I had no idea if he truly was as I myself didn't truly understand what Diabetes was. Didn't even know at that moment that there was 2 types of diabetes.
So anyway, I manage to stand up, gather our stuff, and put one foot in front of the other. I look down at my child, who now, looks so little to me. In just the 6 weeks that we had last seen the Dr. my son had lost 13 pounds. Why didn't I do something sooner, how did I not know? You idiot, you should have known something was seriously wrong. Your his mother, your supposed to know these things. Why did you wait so long to bring him to the Doctor again? Your a woman, a mother, its your job to know and you failed.

Death of a Pancreas....Part 2

March 21st, 2012

....I feel every ounce of my blood go cold, my knees feel like jelly, my head starts spinning, my heart is racing, panic is comsuming me. Here I stand, with my 9 year old child, alone, in his Drs office, hearing these most horrific words. Again, "I belive you have Diabetes". What? Excuse me? What? What do you mean diabetes? Diabetes? I dont understand. What do you mean Diabetes? How in the hell does he have Diabetes? Are you sure? You must surely be mistaken? You have my kid pee in a cup and you poke his finger and come back 1 minute later and tell me my kid has some disease. How dare you. You idiot. Your wrong. What the hell is Diabetes anyways?
I stand there staring at this man that I have trusted with my son for 9 years wanting to scream at him how wrong he was. Im scared. Im standing there alone with my baby, clutching him as this man is telling me that my life, my heart, my baby has some disease. Sit, I must sit, if I dont sit Im going to fall on this ground in front of my son. Dont panic Christine, dont panic, keep it together, dont scare Michael anymore than he already is. Sit, sit down or your going to fall. Chair, where's the chairs, I cant figure out where the chairs are. My head is spinning, I dont know what to do other than find a damn chair that is directly behind me. Sit, okay, we are sitting. I have my son on my lap, and Iam glaring at this evil man who clearly is wrong.
Okay, get it together girl, breath, take a breath and start speaking. Inhale, exhale. Okay, now, Dr. Cannon, what do you mean he has diabetes? How do you know? Are you sure? Dr. Cannon looks at me, with eyes so sympathetic, Christine, I cant say 100% but I can tell you this, you need to prepare yourself as I am 99% certain that I am right. However, I am not an Endocronologist but Iam going to go to my office and make a call and I will be right back, okay? Okay? Your asking me, okay? No, its not okay, dont you dare leave me alone in this room. Are you kidding me? Okay? No, Im not okay. This is not okay.
Dr. Cannon leaves the room and I am left sitting there with my beautiful son, alone. Looking at these blue walls with baseball bat borders. My son, turns to me and says "am I going to be okay mommy?" Of course your going to be okay sweetie, your going to be just fine. "what is Diabetes mommy?" Honey, Im not really quite sure myself but from what I know, it can be treated with exercise and diet. "Shows you how much I know about diabetes at this point". I know in my head that Diabetes is bad, I just dont know really what it exactly is. So I sit in this room for what seems like an eternity for the evil Dr to come back with my son's fate.
Dr. Cannon enters the room and says to me, "okay, well Ive called an Endocronolgist that I know and we are getting Michael in to see him first thing in the morning." The Endo will be able to confirm if Michael is for certain Diabetic. But Christine, you need to prepare yourself as Iam 99% certain, his test results from his urine and blood confirm that he is Diabetic. Now, I talked with the Endo and we do not feel that we need to admit Michael to the hospital. HOSPITAL, what the hell do you mean hospital. Nobody mentioned anything about hospital.
I know my baby and I sat in this room with his Dr for at least another 30 minutes, listening to all he had to say. However, not a word I remember other than "Christine, I need you to promise me something" Whats that Dr Cannon? "when you go home, please, stay off your computer and dont go on the internet. Can you promise me that? Ummm, ya, I guess, why? "Just please, trust me, go home, do your every day stuff, get some rest, and get to the Endo in the morning and I want you to promise to call me after his appt okay? Okay, Dr. Cannon I promise. No computer, no internet. Got it.

The death of a Pancreas....Part 1

March 21st, 2012

My son hadn't been "right" for at least a month or two. He came down with a virus, was sick for about a week but then got better. Seems after this virus, he just wasn't quite the same. He didn't have as much energy as he always once had. Seemed to tire more easily. I chalked it up to him having that virus and was still getting over it. He plays soccer and at this time was playing a lot of double header games. He would play 2 games back to back. We would get home and he would just want to lay on the couch. He had a lot of headaches back then and lost his appetite. Still wasn't thinking anything was truly wrong. I had taken spring break off work and spent the week with my son, we just did a "staycation" and mostly hung around the house. I remember sitting in the rocking chair playing a baseball game with him on the Wii. I watched my son run to the bathroom numerous times. I remember him taking a shower one day and yelling for me to come to the bathroom. I open the door, and while my son was in the shower, he's crying that he is so thirsty. I go and get him some water and take it to him. Still, not thinking to much of it. He had a Dr. Appt with his Urologist, just his routine 6 month check up. While seeing this Dr. she looked at my son and says to me "he looks dehydrated" "his eyes and cheeks are a little sunken in". I was enraged. My son is NOT dehydrated I think to myself. All this boy does is drink water, how dare you say something like that to me. I remember being so angry with her for saying something so ridiculous to me. Not my son, no way is he dehydrated, where did you get your training, out of a cracker jack box?
Still nothing is too much of a concern to me at this point. I'm still thinking, "Virus" he is still just getting over this "Virus". We go home, try to get him to eat something, all I get is "mom, I'm not hungry". Okay, well lets get you some rest. Off to bed he goes, off to bed I go. The next morning, he is up before me and I hear him in the living room playing his Wii. I get up, go to the kitchen and notice a brand new bottle of Cranberry Juice sitting on the counter....EMPTY. Michael, I call out, did you just drink this entire bottle of juice this morning? "I was thirsty Mom and it tasted good!" Michael, you know you cant drink that much juice honey. What would you like for breakfast? "Not hungry mom". Uggghhhh.... Well evening time comes and I think I have a trick up my sleeve to make my child eat. "Michael, how about we go get you a McDonalds for dinner? Double Cheeseburger and some fries". "No, not really hungry mom". Well THAT did it. MY SON refusing Mc Donalds, something surely must be wrong. "That's it Michael, we are going to the Dr in the morning". I called his Dr first thing in the morning and got him in at 10:00 am.
Here we sit, at Dr. Cannon's office in the little room with blue walls and baseball bat bordering the walls. Here comes the nurse. "So what are we seeing you for today". So I begin to tell her. Well, he just isn't "right". He's not hungry, he's tired all the time, drinks continuously, is soaking the bed at night, and I mean soaking the bed. Something just seems off, I tell her, I think he has that Virus again. I tell her, "yesterday the boy drank an entire bottle of cranberry juice before I even got up!". She looks at me and my son and says "I'm going to get a urine sample, so Michael can you go and pee in a cup for me and leave it in the bathroom?" She then looks at me and says " I just want to see if there is any sugar in his urine". I started to laugh and said to her "Oh, your going to see lots of sugar in his urine, he drank a huge bottle of juice yesterday morning". I had not clue why she would be checking for sugar.
So off to the bathroom my son goes, pees in a cup, and comes back to the room. We wait about 5 minutes, if that and the nurse returns. She says, "okay, so he has some sugar in his urine so I want to test his blood for sugar as well". Again, I say to her, of course there was sugar in his urine, I told you he drank a huge bottle of juice". Iam still not registering anything that she is doing or why she is testing his urine and blood for sugar.
So here is the nurse, she pokes my babies finger, put the blood on (what I now know is a test strip and meter), looks at the meter and immediately walks out of the room. Less than 1 minute later Dr. Cannon walks in. He looks at me and my son and says those horrifying words. "I believe you have Diabetes".