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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "hockey":

As parents of children with diabetes, we are constantly being challenged with difficult decisions to make.

 

Charlie has wanted to play ice hockey for over a year now. He lives for hockey. He mimics the moves he sees on television from professional hockey players, pretending to stop on a dime and spray ice on the hard-wood floors. He sets up little hockey figurine players and simulates game situations. When he's not doing that, he plays hockey on his Playstation. And when he's not doing that, he and I play indoor knee hockey in his bedroom where he repeatedly takes ferocious slap shots into my groin. It's great fun. The kid loves hockey, is what I'm tryin' to say.

 

The waiting was finally over. I knew how excited he was for this moment, so I didn't want to screw it up on my end. I came with a simple plan:

 

1. Feed him lunch before he plays

2. Disconnect pump

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I disconnected my pump like normal for my nightly shower. I set it on the counter on top of some towels so the vibration wouldn't bother me. Usually this is a safe place for my pump, away from the direct steam of the shower and any immediate water sources.

 

My cat thought this was an ideal place to have a hockey game. I was halfway through my shower and suddenly I heard the pump slide into the sink. My cat made it his very own hockey puck! Visions of a cracked screen or a completely broken pump flashed through my mind as I screamed at the cat.

 

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I took Charlie to his first NHL hockey game.
I took him straight into the lion's den - the house of the enemy - the Philadelphia Flyers. We weren't exactly feeling the "brotherly love" as we came to support the opposing team - the New Jersey Devils.
I had prepped Charlie in the car ride over.
"You know how you say Boo, Flyers! when we're at home and you see them on TV?"
"Uh huh."
"Well you can't do that when we get there. They. Will. Murder. Us."
It didn't take long for Charlie to realize that we were in the vast minority as we parked the car and stepped out into a sea of orange and black.
"Let's not bring this," Charlie said quietly, neatly folding and handing me the picture he drew that said "LET'S GO DEVILS."
Kudos to the security guard who stopped us as we entered the arena to check if I had any plastic containers in my small cooler.
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I was stuffing Charlie’s smelly hockey equipment into his big hockey bag when I heard Susanne from the other room.

 

"So you’re gonna tell the coach about Charlie’s … and she paused.

 

"Bad gas? Yeah, I’ll let him know," I said.

 

"Diabetes," Charlie mumbled while picking up a 2-7 spare in Wii Bowling.

 

"Oh, right, diabetes."

 

Ice hockey season started on Sunday. How nice it would be to just throw him on the ice and say, "have fun" like all the other kids’ parents do - the biggest worry being a potential blister. For us, there’s just so much to think about. So much "strategery," as Will Ferrell would say in impersonating George W. Bush on Saturday Night Live.

 

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Dipping Low

 

When life hands you low blood sugars, eat a bag of sugar on a stick made of sugar.

 

"Enjoy this moment," I told Charlie. "It's not going to happen too often."

 

I handed him a Fun Dip (his first ever) from his untouched Valentine's Day stash and watched his face light up like the sun.

 

 

 

"Mmmm," Charlie said. "I can see why people like these."

 

Hockey and Bagels

 

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Charlie sat on the bench in a somewhat meditative state. Even the blank expression on his face seemed by design to be a strategy in which to conserve energy. If he blinked his eyes less frequently and stayed perfectly still, perhaps his blood sugar would remain above 100.

 

"Charlie, you can skate a little bit before hockey starts," I said. "You’ve got about 10 minutes."

 

"Neh," Charlie said calmly and without emotion. "I really don’t want to go low this time."

 

Who can blame him after last week’s debacle.

 

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I’m the assistant coach for Charlie’s street hockey team. The "blue team." For the first few weeks of the season, we looked like the Bad News Bears. We were scoring in our own goal, holding hockey sticks the wrong way and one kid may have yelled "touchdown!" when we scored our first goal. We were losing games by large margins and watching our opponents celebrate often.

 

Winning is nice of course but it is so much sweeter after you’ve tasted a fair share of defeat. Maybe the same can be said for managing diabetes. We measure our success by how far we’ve come.

 

On this day, the blue team had enough of losing. They played with a ton of heart, ending their losing streak with a giant 7-2 victory.

 

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It weighs heavy on me, this damn disease.  Some days are especially long and challenging. I'm reminded of a song called "Four Seasons in One Day." In just one day, diabetes can throw so much at us.

 

Blistering hot highs. Blustery lows. Raging tempers like an April thunderstorm and even beautiful numbers as cool and still as autumn.

 

This was Sunday.

 

The day started off promising. Charlie woke up with a good blood sugar. He hit the ice at 8 am for hockey practice with a blood sugar of 203 - a number I'm comfortable with when he's out there on the other side of the glass. After hockey, Charlie tested himself while we drove to my soccer game.

 

"I'm 98."

 

"Nice!"

 

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Despite my initial rant, Charlie’s week of hockey camp was great. He had a blast. Once we settled into the routine and got the lay of the land, everything went more smoothly. After a week of tagging along with the hockey counselors all over the Princeton campus and dealing with some very badly behaved 7 and 8 year olds, I’m happy to get back to my normal life. Ha! Normal!

 

As they should be, the other kids were curious about Charlie’s pump. During the week, several kids asked Charlie what it was. Charlie educated a few and at other times, he’d defer to me.

 

"Does that hurt him?" one kid asked after I tested Charlie’s blood sugar.

 

Charlie held his finger out, accepted the prick with no reaction and then pulled his hockey mask over his head and darted out of the locker room toward the ice before I could even answer the boy.

 

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