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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "Life for a Child":

Phew! Thank goodness it’s over. It was just a really stressful day. It would have been tolerable if Charlie was just hanging out with me at my desk all day, but that’s not how they do it in my office. The kids are all whisked away for a day of activities and my only time with my kids (in theory) would be for lunch.

 

But there was breakfast to deal with, a morning snack, an afternoon snack, late-afternoon ice pops, about five false-alarm lows and one legitimate low of 51. I saw quite a bit of Charlie, did very little work and by the end of the day, I’m sure the volunteers were relieved to see me taking him off their hands.

 

By the fifth phone call from the volunteers, I was starting to wonder if Charlie was simply getting a sick pleasure out of seeing me run repeatedly up the stairs and through the office clutching his puffy rocket ship diabetes bag.

 

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Many of us have been a-twitter about World Diabetes Day, bringing attention to the epidemic proportions of Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes and the Big Blue Test. Seattle had a bike ride as did Victoria, BC. Philadelphia had an event at the Temple University School of Podiatric Medicine. Those of us in the New York City area celebrated with a huge D-Meetup and pizza party. The indefatiguable Allison set things up in a Midtown office building. At its peak, over 20 Type 1s, Type 2s, and Type 3s gathered to enjoy each other's company and take part in the Big Blue Test.

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Spring has sprung and Charlie has hung up his ice skates and has picked up his baseball glove. This morning he had his first practice. A thick fog hung over the infield.

 

As I do with any new coach, when we arrived at the field, I mentioned that Charlie has type 1 diabetes. And yes, I make a point to say "type 1 diabetes," not just "diabetes."

 

I let the coach know that from time to time throughout the season, Charlie will run off the field to get his blood sugar checked. He might mention that he feels low, I added.

 

And soon after this first practice started, he did just that. He left the kid he was having a catch with and ran toward me.

 

"I think I’m low," he said, shedding his glove and sticking his finger out.

 

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"I have died everyday waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid. I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more. All along I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me. I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more." ~ "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri

 

When I hear this song, I don't think Twilight's Breaking Dawn (part of the soundtrack). I don't even think of marriage. I do think of falling in love and watching the love of my life though. When I hear this song, I think of my child.

 

A child that doesn't even exist on this world yet. A child that is years down the road. A child that I cannot see or feel or hug at this moment. But a child that exists for me, none the less.

 

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In the rainbows-and-unicorns world of diabetes activism, it is often said that one of the most egregious oversights in international politics is the lack of available medical insulin in economically-depressed areas and emerging nations. Our standard-bearers act as if all we need to do is ship tons of strips, gallons of insulin, and forests-worth of needles to the middle of the African bush and every person with diabetes will live forever in the world of Blood Sugar Nirvana and No Complications.

 

The truth of the matter is much more complex.

 

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When I was in grade school, regardless of whether our Trick-or-Treat costumes were home-made or store-bought, whether we wore masks or make-up, our huge paper loot bags were accompanied by small orange milk cartons stamped with information from UNICEF -- The United Nations Children's Fund. Printed on the cartons were examples of what a small donation might do for a child in a third-world country -- a nickel, for example, might provide a child with a pencil and notebook for school; a dollar might vaccinate him against smallpox or polio; five dollars could get his town clean water. The following school day, our teachers would collect the milk containers. The local PTA would count up the money and submit the school's UNICEF donation for that year.

 

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A few years ago, we made a fundraising video of Charlie to the song, Fix You by Coldplay. At the time, I chose the song because ... well, I liked it and because of this line in the song:

 

"I will try to fix you."

 

In just six words, it conveyed so much. It was perfect. That’s why we raise money for a cure.

 

I had known the song, but never really paid too much attention to the words aside from the "fix you" part. But when making the video, frame by frame, and really paying attention to the lyrics, I could not believe how much the song seemed to relate to life with diabetes.

 

"When you try your best but you don’t succeed." (I hear that. How about every day!)

 

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Most of the teams who participate in our local JDRF Walk for a Cure are composed of friends and family walking for a child with diabetes. The child gets to be the focus of attention for a fun-filled day of raising awareness for that which normally separates him (or her) from his friends. There's also the smattering of company, corporate, and fraternal teams walking in the name of public service.

 

And then there's the third type of team: those who walk to honor the memory of a loved one killed by diabetes.

 

Memorial teams may be the fewest in number, but they serve as a poignant reminder of why we must walk - why we must continue to walk - and why insulin is not a cure.

 

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It's been a bit busy this week, leaving me somewhat late on reporting back on Saturday's d-group meeting to see Breakthrough: The Dramatic Story of the Discovery of Insulin, a special exhibit showing at the New York Historical Society. Since I had to work Sunday, this ended up as the total of my World Diabetes Day celebrations this year.

 

 

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