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We see a lot of ugliness as parents of kids with diabetes. Ketone-heaving. Bleeders. Black-outs. Site Screamers. Pin-downs. Hunt-downs. The Color Purple. The list goes on and on. Sometimes, though, it’s the subtle things that get to me.
An impromptu basketball game at the playground amongst friends. While talking to another parent, my eyes gravitate to Charlie – holding onto his bouncing insulin pump on his waist as he chugs up and down the basketball court with a smile. Clutching the medicine that keeps him alive.
“We need to start wearing the sensor.”
I stop myself before saying “we.” We’re not wearing the sensor. He is.
I worry about a growing resentment. Telling a 10-year-old that it’s because we love him – that we want to keep him healthy and safe – can only go so far. Eventually it falls on deaf ears.
WE are torturing.
WE are inflicting pain.
WE don’t know what it’s like.
Maybe it’s not so bad if it leads to an unexpected conversation while waiting to get into the classroom.
A girl who asks if it ever hurts.
Not just any girl.
And asks if he’s ever afraid of the shots.
Because she still gets very scared when she has to get a shot, she tells him.
Maybe it’s not so bad at this particular moment in time.
And maybe he can stand in the hall and talk to her forever.
Megan was diagnosed in 2009 with Type I. As an RN, she was familiar with the medical side of her diagnosis; learning to be a good patient on the other hand, was and continues to be the challenge of her day to day life. (Read More)