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.
At that point we had already picked up some urine strips at the drug store and began squeezing them into one of Charlie’s deeply saturated diapers. We must have gone through 15 strips, hoping that just one wouldn’t turn dark purple. Maybe we did it wrong – 15 times.
"Just bring him into the office tomorrow morning," the doctor on call said at about 6 pm on Sunday night.
The signs were there. There was no way Susanne was going to wait until the morning. Knowing now about ketones and seeing the effect of high blood sugars first-hand, it’s disturbing to think that Charlie was left untreated while his pancreas was quietly on the fritz.
I continued my silly bath antics for Maeve’s benefit while she flopped around in the water, but inside, my heart began to ache. When the front door slammed with Charlie in Susanne’s arms and I heard the car ignition rumble and pull away, I prepared myself for a terrible phone call.
My recollection is that Susanne was very matter of fact.
"Yup. He has diabetes."
So, here we are, six years later. I like to think we’ve been good caregivers. We’ve tried our best to give him a normal childhood in abnormal conditions. We’ve stumbled along the way here and there but we’ve learned from our mistakes. It’s hard to imagine that someday Charlie will be his own caregiver. I can’t imagine not knowing what his blood sugars are every day. What will we do with our hands if we’re not holding juice boxes or testing supplies or his little fingers? After another ten years of this life, it won’t be an easy thing to simply turn off.
But like the autumn leaves, I suppose things change.
