Maybe it's just that it takes different parents of children with diabetes different lengths of time until they finally "back off," as my son's endocrinologist so bluntly urged us to do at last visit.
Even after just a year into life as a pancreas, doctors and nurses focused a great deal of concern on Susanne and me. "Hello!" we wanted to say. "Child with diabetes standing in front of you! Can we just focus on him?"
"You need to get your sleep," they'd say.
"You shouldn't have to get up every night at 2 am," they'd say.
"If you don't take care of yourself, you won't be able to take care of him," they'd say (the fear mongers)
"Don't worry about us."
Even after we switched hospitals, we encountered the same concern mixed with a hint of bewilderment over our numerous blood-sugar checks or wee-hour testings.
Time after time, we'd leave the office muttering under our breath, "easy for them to say. They don't have a child with diabetes."
The doctors and nurses were trying to get us to a stage of metamorphosis that we just weren't ready for. Maybe they saw other parents who had already reached that point and figured we could too. For us, it seemed premature.
But now, as I speak, something is happening. I'll spare you a continuation of the "metamorphosis" analogy. Rest easy. We are not spreading our beautiful butterfly wings and soaring amongst the daffodils. Far from it. But. There's no denying that something is happening.
It seems that now, after five years, eight months and three days, we might actually be ready …
to "back off."
Well, a little bit.
It may be no coincidence that this comes as Charlie has begun testing his own blood sugar and taking some of the management of the disease upon his little 7-year-old shoulders.
The 2 am checks are no longer standard operating procedure. We've rediscovered sleep, reserving overnight checks for out-of-the-ordinary circumstances.
Blood sugar checks are down.
Our "do you feel low?" harassment has also waned as we trust Charlie will tell us when he feels low.
I've eased up on my calls home to know each and every blood sugar and Susanne has likewise stopped the "blood sugar report." We actually talk on the phone about other things.
Even blood sugars of over 400 that would normally have me cursing like my grandmother in August, elicit just a sigh these days.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strange.
