I’ve never had much tolerance for people or things that inconvenienced me, or made me slow down. Yet I now have to have patience and tolerance for something that does all this and more. Diabetes is an invader of time and space, and cares for no one but itself. I have grown more in the past 7.5 months not because I wanted to, but because I had to.
There aren’t many choices when your child has a life threatening disease, survive or die, those are the two choices you are given. Everyday we wake up and choose life, and joy. Some mornings are harder to start than others, but for the most part we rub the sleep out of our eyes and tie our capes on.
We place exhaustion behind us and push forward, this is true for parent/caregiver, and child with Type 1. Nights are riddled with sleeplessness and when the morning comes we start all over. It’s a concerted effort to make everyday better than the last. I would say that 95% of the time in my house we are successful. It’s that other 10% that can feel debilitating, but when you look at the math, we are doing pretty well.
Being completely void of the struggle is unhealthy in my opinion. I believe living consciously in the struggle makes the good days that much more sweet. Knowing we have to search for the joy on some days, shows me that through anything if we are doing it together, me and my husband and children can find the positive no matter what. Honestly, it makes the good days that much better, knowing what we had to strip away in order to feel them.
These past 7.5 months haven’t been a walk in the park, but we have ripped away the facades and have relationships with each other that are void of the pretend, and exude trust and true companionship.
Somehow, being faced with a blood sugar that you know is either going to place your child in DKA (Diabetic Ketoacidosis) from being too high and is essentially making your child’s body too acidic, or checking on what appears to be your peacefully sleeping child, only to find out their blood sugar is 36 and they could be slipping silently into a coma, life becomes real.
Sorrow tries to asphyxiate you, but you don’t allow it, and we problem solve in a matter of seconds. Be it 2:00 PM or 2:00 AM, we are always “ON”, knowing what hesitation could mean, there isn’t anytime for it. I find it difficult to be tolerant to a disease with a bully mentality who doesn’t like to play fair, and works to claim my son’s life as it’s trophy.
Yet my tolerance and quick thinking are my badges of honor. We as parents of T1D’s wear these badges under our dark circles, and when we have an amazing win, we gently tuck it under our capes.