It's my time...to appreciate the past.

Dear Mom,

I've probably never thanked you out loud for the years of care that you've put into my life. And I should. Every day of my life. Because you have been the rock, the support, and the lifeline that I've need in the past 16+ years of living with diabetes.

I've heard the way you tell my diagnosis story. I hear the fear in your voice, the emotion run through you. I know that those months were some of the hardest in your life. When you talk about watching me have seizures and bad night lows, I hear that same fear and emotion. I know having a diabetic child must be one of the most difficult things to encounter as a parent. I know it wasn't what you expected or wanted or needed in your only girl.

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Can we be better caregivers? I guess. We can always be better. We were thrown into this diabetes life without much warning just like many of you. We were caregivers merely by having children, but care-giving on this level is a beast of another color.

On this day, six years ago, Charlie was diagnosed with diabetes. He was still slurping from a bottle. What is it about the fall? So many people are diagnosed this time of year.

The changing leaves. Halloween. Sunday football. Apple cider. Sweaters. Murder within the pancreas. All trademarks of autumn.

I was giving Maeve a bath when Susanne decided to take him to the hospital despite the pediatrician’s lackluster opinion on the matter.

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I'm staring at my logbook right now. I have no idea what to do. My averages are still above 200, although my baseline numbers are generally running between 160 and 180. Yet I'm still seeing numbers like 302, 264, or 270 crop up.

I raised my Lantus to 33 units last night and I woke up at 96 when I'd gone to bed at 224. I'm hopeful that 33 units might be the golden number with all this. If I could get my basal numbers to drop back into a normal range (I'm looking for under 150 at the moment), then my post-meal numbers wouldn't be spiking so high. Plus I could keep working on the post-meal numbers more extensively if those basal numbers dropped.

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I chanted: Iwillgetupinthemorning. Iwillgetupinthemorning. Iwillgetupinthemorning.

I got up on time.

I did not go back to sleep. (Monday is easy, surprisingly.)

I left on time.

I did not freeze in the 45 degrees.

I pushed.

I coached.

I encouraged.

I praised.

I wondered where the Drill Sergeant was.

I looked for the coyote I've seen three times.

I was surprised my muscles didn't ache.

I praised.

I encouraged.

I walked for the first time in two weeks.

I breathed the cold air in deeply.

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It's my time...to remind myself that every caregiver needs a break.

I've been my own diabetes caregiver since about the age of 13. I remember the day quite vividly that changed it all. TCH (my pediatric endos at the time) made the switch from "sugar abstinence" to "carb counting." Otherwise known as Intensive Insulin Management.

I had to attend a class about carb counting, A1c goals, and overall "intensive management." My mom usually went to every diabetes-related doctor's visit or informational. But this time, the class was on a Saturday. Her job at the time didn't allow Saturdays off, so my dad took me instead.

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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.