Thought #47: It’s not fair.

Tomorrow Ian goes to the hospital to have an endoscopy to determine if he has celiac disease as well as Type 1 diabetes.

It’s not fair.

We have to be there at 6:30 a.m. and the hospital is almost an hour from here.

It’s not fair.

If he has celiac, he’ll be the one kid out of ten who has both Type 1 diabetes and celiac.

It’s not fair.

If he has celiac, he won’t be able to eat his favorite foods. He’s already limited on how much of those foods he can have and he’s a picky eater. And he loves his grains.

It’s not fair.

He will have to go back into a room with a nurse and doctor he just met and lay down and go to sleep with a “cool Star Wars mask.” ┬áHe’s a smart kid and he won’t buy it. He doesn’t even like Star Wars.

He’s scared and he’s angry. And I don’t blame him.

It’s not fair.

I’m preparing for the worse.

It sounds pessimistic but at this point, it’s my coping mechanism. I’m assuming he has celiac disease. In my mind, I am telling myself he does. ┬áThat way if he does, I won’t be crushed.

We won’t know until sometime next week. I pray it isn’t on his sister’s 13th birthday if it’s true. I can’t ruin her day. I can’t let it take away from her. She needs a special day all about her.

I hate the thought of telling him. It kills me to think of how we will break it to him. And how it will change things once again.

It’s. Not. Fair.


Thought #40: The odds are against us.

1 in 100 people has celiac disease.

1 in 10 people with Type 1 diabetes has celiac.

Ian failed the blood test, as we already knew.

He will have a biopsy on March 14th.

That test will determine if he has “silent” (requiring a gluten-free diet for the rest of his life) or “latent” (meaning he has the potential to have it at some point in his life and will need to be tested every few years) celiac.

Obviously, latent is the better option.

And in the grand scheme of things, it’s not the end of the world. He will be healthier and apparently his diabetes will be easier to manage if we eliminate gluten from his diet.

But to a 9-year-old, who can only eat a set amount of food at designated times throughout the day and only with a shot of insulin…this is just completely unfair.

As the doctor explained the procedure to us, Ian broke down crying. Right there on the exam table, sobbing.

It. Broke. My. Heart.