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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "parents with diabetes":

 

When I wake up and go downstairs I see an abandoned bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and what looks like an explosion of medical supplies. Susanne is flicking a syringe when I enter the kitchen.

 

"It's the worst color I've ever seen," she says.

 

She's referring to the color chart on a canister of urinalysis strips.

 

The deep plum color of the strip that had been dipped in Charlie's pee shows the highest level of ketones - an acid that builds in the blood and spills into the urine.  When Charlie's body doesn't find glucose to convert to energy and when there's not enough insulin, his body begins breaking down fat for energy, creating a poison-like substance which, if left untreated, would kill him.

 

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Diatribe recently ran an interview with the JDRF's new President and CEO Jeffrey Brewer.  In the interview, as do most new Presidents,  Mr. Brewer outlined his vision for the organization.  It includes "moving away from the over reliance on the cure as the central part of our message and funding" and a new focus on improvements in day to day living for people with type 1 and seeking means of prevention for those at risk for type 1. 

 

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It occurred to us that Charlie doesn't get many requests for play dates from his classmates. It's not like he doesn't have friends. He gets along with everyone in his class. He's actually fairly popular. Still, the invitations to come over houses are scarce.

 

It makes us wonder if the parents think it would just be too difficult. Or maybe they just assume we could never just leave him somewhere without someone trained in diabetes care keeping an eye on him. Well, they wouldn't be wrong if they thought that. We want to let him do things without us hovering over him like low-gliding seagulls, but how can we? He doesn't test himself yet.

 

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You'll often hear parents of children with diabetes - myself included - moaning and groaning about the many classroom birthday parties that we must contend with. Seems it's every week that my wife gets a call from the nurse regarding an unexpected carpet-bombing of brownies or cake.

 

We deal with these situations without too much of a fuss, but still, it's yet another curve ball thrown our way.

 

I've read many horror stories through the years of classmates' parents who just don't get it. Or rather, parents who think they get it but really don't at all. Hard to believe, but I remember a story about one parent who distributed birthday treats to all of the kids in the class except the kid with diabetes. He thought he was doing a commendable thing in recognizing that there was a diabetic in the class and keeping the evils of sugar away from him or her.

 

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Being a dad with diabetes can be tricky. I watch everything my kids do hoping I do not spot a symptom of this stupid disease in their lives. When they want a lot to drink I worry. If I hear them get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom I worry. If they are tired for no reason I worry.

Besides keeping a watchful eye on my kids I am also always careful about what I fill our cupboards with. We don’t my sugary cereals Hostess is not one of our major food groups, and regular soda is almost never in our home.

The bad side about this is feeling like the enemy of fun. I know I am making good choices for them but at the same time I feel kind like a jerk who doesn’t want them to enjoy kid stuff.

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Diabetes has had us back on our heels and off-balance since school started. Charlie has had very high blood sugars. In turn, we're doing a lot of guessing. Guessing is not a great strategy when dealing with a major disease. Such is life with diabetes.

It is during these times that diabetes likes to send a message. It likes to bring you down to size and remind you that you're not in control. Just as we were about to make changes to deal with the constant highs, the unexpected sound of panic lifts me from my chair.

"Carey! Juice box now!!! He's very low!!!"

I pop from my chair like a firefighter responding to an alarm and grab two juice boxes. I can hear Susanne's voice growing louder as I make my way upstairs.

"CHARLIE! CHARLIE! I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP!"

"CHARLIE!"

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To the families of special-needs children all across the country, I have a message: For years, you sought to make America a more welcoming place for your sons and daughters.

I pledge to you that if we are elected, you will have a friend and advocate in the White House.

Gov. Palin, I can't tell you how much this means to me and my family. For eight long years it felt as if we didn't have a friend in the White House. Phew! Thank you for being my friend. What a relief. I have to be honest, I wasn't expecting that. I too am a parent of a special-needs child. My 6-year-old son Charlie has been living with type 1 diabetes since he was a baby. 

As my friend, I'm sure you and Senator McCain will lift the restrictions on federal funding of embryonic stem cell research the moment you take office. That's what friends do, right? Friends are there for you when you need them most.

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I knew he was high when I walked in the door;

His body was twitching, there was nary a snore.

His complexion was rosy, his hair dampened black;

I knew he was high before the pricker went "clack!"

The horrible number stayed like a tattoo,

Spitefully showcasing 392.

With insulin active, we gave it an hour

And whispered a prayer to a higher power.

I awoke from a dream that Obama had won

When Susanne said, "Carey! He's 421!"

I stumbled to his bedside, my wits on the fringe;

Susanne poured juice and loaded a syringe.

I pinched some plump flesh on the back of his arm,

Inserted the needle, then set my alarm.

2:30 am - I walked through a fog,

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Type 1 isn't known as an adult disease. Until a few years ago, I didn't know anyone who called my diabetes Type 1 Diabetes. It was Juvenile Diabetes, Childhood Onset Diabetes... You get the gist. And when I was a child, I never thought about diabetes as something adults had in spite of the fact that I knew several Type 1 diabetic adults during my youth.
Anyhow, today, I was thinking, there should be some rules for being an adult with Type 1. Perhaps you'll think of some to add to the list I've come up with.
H is for How to be an adult with Type 1.
1. Test even though you're busy. Log even though you're busy. Bolus even though you're busy. Are you sensing a theme? As an adult, rule #1 is pay attention - even though you've got a lot of other things going on. It's a challenge, but diabetes needs to be a priority. (READ MORE)

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I watch as a girl with braces sets down a tower of pizza boxes at lanes 18 and 20. I shift my eyes to Charlie, who has just launched a bowling ball overhand onto the wood floor baseball style, scaring the children in the neighboring lanes. I watch him manipulate the air like a mime; steering the ball off the bumpers to the left then to the right before pumping his fist in victory.
"I got eight!" he yells excitedly from about 15 feet away.
I look over at the pizza again as the other kids start to filter in around the table. I look at Charlie. Charlie looks at the pizza. Charlie looks at me. I look at him. Like a dog at the dinner table, Charlie takes one more look at the kids munching on the pizza. (READ MORE)

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