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.