Tag Archives: Love

Common Unity

com·mu·ni·ty    kǝ-‘myü-nǝ-tē\  n.   
            1. A unified body of individuals.

We were blessed to spend our Thanksgiving this year with a wonderful group of new friends. This group of people has been working together, living together, and celebrating together throughout the evolution of life over the past ten-plus years. They are singles, couples, parents and children, and soon-to-be-parents. The group has shifted and changed over time, but their core values persevere:

Love. Compassion. Support. Joy. Family.

Put into practice, these values result in acceptance, generosity, genuine interest in the lives and hearts of other people, true emotional connection, and gatherings that are dang fun.

Something new that my brood and I bring to the group is diabetes. Insulin, pumping, finger sticks, hypos, infusion sets, middle-of-the-night alarms, carbohydrate counting–these are things that are now so pervasive in our lives that I’ve almost completely lost the perspective of life without diabetes. Spending extended time like this with new friends makes me more aware of just how burdensome and strange it all can be.

For example, another mom in the group offered to take Luke home with her from the park we were all at to play with her son, and it took me nearly a full 60 seconds of silent internal deliberation, calculation, and trouble-shooting to even answer her. And then I had to give The Plan. And then I made mental notes about absolute times when I was going to need to call and check-in. Would 1 hour be too long? I’m sure I seemed like a crazy person.

And did I wake anyone when I was shuffling through the house, barely conscious at 3 o’clock in the morning, to maneuver through a pile of sleeping kids and check blood sugars? Did anyone notice the vacant stare I adopt when my kids sit down with a plate of food and I’m mentally analyzing and calculating the carbohydrate content? That fleeting look of panic when someone starts to cut up pie?

Evie learns to make pecan pie from scratch. Score!

Evie learns to make pecan pie from scratch. Score!

The great thing about this cohesive group was their acceptance and attendant willingness to learn about what makes our world go ’round. People asked questions. They talked to my kids about their experiences and were interested in the answers. They watched me change infusion sets and dial in boluses, asked me about food and routines, and just genuinely cared about us.

And that’s what is so valuable about being part of a community. Whether it’s a small group of friends and family, a church or social circle, a local support group, or the larger cultural or medical communities, it’s valuable and vital to be able to share your struggles, burdens, accomplishments and joys with people who share some common thread. A common unity.

Everyone needs a community.

Kids have a remarkable ability to meld into relatively cohesive groups within hours of meeting each other.

Kids have a remarkable ability to meld into relatively cohesive groups within hours of meeting each other.

All For A Free Shower

“Mom, I only have 6.7 units left in my pump.”

These words were uttered during breakfast this morning, about five minutes before we were set to leave for school. Five. Minutes.

Evie is fairly self-sufficient with her insulin pump. Self-sufficient in that she knows how to perform the operations herself, not so self-sufficient that she notices and acknowledges things like low-reservoir and missed-bolus alarms. This happens a lot. Luckily, we’re pretty quick with the set changes.

Ok. FIve minutes. I can do this. She has to finish eating anyways.

But then, Evie made an impassioned plea to save her set change for after her pre-birthday-party shower this afternoon. Could she do an injection bolus for breakfast and lunch and save the rest of her pump insulin for her basal needs for the day? After my shower? Please?

Oh, sweet girl.

I take for granted the ability to simply take a shower without having a medical device adhered to my body. If you’re a pump wearer, it must feel really, really great to be able to soap up without worrying about scrubbing your infusion set off in the process. To have your body completely free of adhesive tape and invasive plastic cannulas, if only for the time it takes for a good, long shower.

So we’re doing a combination of injections and pumping today to get her through to that highly-anticipated free shower. It’s sure to confuse the Bolus Wizard–the name given to the complicated algorithms the pump uses to calculate dosages–but that’s what our backup brainpower is for.

If that’s the normalcy she is craving today, then we’ll do the extra work to help her find it.

Little Fingers

“A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.”

—Victor Hugo—

As I checked Luke’s blood sugar tonight, sitting on his bed in the dark squeezing a drop from his finger, I was overcome with both a roaring love and a blistering sadness. Images of his fantastic smile, enthusiastically loud storytelling, gentle and loving pats on my back, careful and imaginative drawing–all the things that endear him to me–conflicted wildly with the memories of the many times I have caused him pain and made him bleed. Days and nights just like this one.

I kissed his small, bleeding finger. And then kissed his cheeks, and nose, and forehead, and rumpled his hair, until he wriggled away in his sleep, completely, blissfully unaware of my torrent of emotion. Ah, such is parenting.