I am up.
I am up for the day.
Sometimes my urge to write something down is so strong that I cannot go back to sleep after the 3am blood sugar check. This occurrence is relatively frequent, hence the "diarrhea" of my fingers.
The posted photo...the one that looks like a "great-now-I-gotta-make-up-the-grams-of-that-jelly-smeared-all-over-his-face" photo was what had me up and shuffling through a heap of old pictures that I have shoved half-haphazardly in a box. It is perfect for today's post on so many levels. It was taken "pre-diabetes", so no worries on the "carb-making-up". It was toast and jelly; the same thing Joe was munching on yesterday when he stated without emotion ... when he stated, matter-of-factly, that he hated diabetes. He continued on, void of emotion, that he hated everything about it. This picture represents a time before "D". Joe was two. Joe does not remember this picture. Joe does not remember a life where that jelly would not have to be "made-up" for in carb grams.
I help organize our JDRF Walk Kick-Off Luncheon each year.
This year, during the luncheon, we are going to be sharing how our "stories" are powerful tools in raising awareness about type 1 diabetes and ultimately, through the telling of our stories, the importance of a less laborious and rigorous treatment regimen and the need for a cure will be appreciated by the general public.
I asked Joe if he would like to talk at the luncheon about his life with diabetes.
His answer was, "What would I say? ..... I don't know what it is like."
I followed up with, "What do you mean Joe? How do you not know what living with diabetes is like? You have had it for four and a half years..."
"Mom, I know no different..."
*my spawn is "deep"*
My response was something like, "So, you don't feel like you can talk about life with diabetes because you don't know how it differs from a life without diabetes ... you don't remember what it is like to not have it?"
"Yes, exactly..." in a lightly kissed, lisp-y, nasally Joe voice.
Well, fuck-stix. (Is that a sentence? noun (x), finite verb (x) complete thought (x)).
I have thought about this very topic over the years. At diagnosis, people were even so bold as to state "... blah...blah...blahbitty...blah.... at least he will know no different". Yes, true. He won't...He knows no different. He does not know what it is like to sit down with a box of crackers or a sleeve of cookies. He does not know what it is like to eat a meal without piercing his finger with a needle beforehand. He does not know what it is like to play a sport without frequent blood sugar monitoring. He does not know what it is like to not fear a low. The list is infinite. The list is life-encompassing. The list is somewhat sad.
Not sure how I feel about all of this... yet.
A day-in-the-life of knowing nothing else for his day-in-the-life.