Yesterday marked Ian’s 9-month mark since being diagnosed with T1D.
9 months is the long road of pregnancy.
9 months is also the length of a school year.
9 months can seem like forever and 9 months can go by in a flash.
“You’ve been pregnant forever!”
“It seems like you just told us you were pregnant!?”
“May is never going to get here!”
“179 days to go!”
“I feel like this year is going by too fast!”
It’s all about perspective I guess.
Luckily, perspectives can change.
When diabetes turned our world upside down in January, we had a lot to learn and as things happened, we dealt with them. It was a crazy time of always anticipating and worrying, being anxious, realizing we weren’t prepared, and at the same time , if it’s possible, over-planning. Diabetes can control your every move, decision, and thought.
But when you are dealing a long-term illness, you can’t function like that forever. You just can’t. When you realize that something is going to affect the rest of your life, you learn to make it fit into your world.
So it becomes part of the routine and part of what you do. Sometimes you don’t even realize you were thinking about it. It’s kind of like when you arrive at a destination and you are like, “Hmmmm…We’re here already? I don’t even remember driving here?!?” (Scary, but true!)
Getting Blue right before school started (and having it be one of the most demanding starts to a school year ever) provided enough other “stress” that diabetes suddenly went on the back burner. I knew I had a good handle on diabetes and now I needed to get a handle on house-training and tackling a new school year.
Yes, diabetes is on a low simmer. I keep an eye on it so it doesn’t burn. But sometimes the pot boils over.
Back in March I mixed up Ian’s meds and this past week, there was another mix-up at his dad’s. We’ve both experienced that total panic and guilt and have realized that it is really easy to make mistakes. Mistakes that we will never make again.
When Ian had to consume 250g of carbs to feed 10 units of insulin, and as Ian described to me the next day, “Dad was getting out that huge Glucagon needle and I was like, Uh….what are you doing?????”….you snap back to the reality of diabetes pretty quick.
That is not to say that we are going to let that little mishap wreck the progress that we’ve made.
Because our progress is what is most important.
The next day Ian’s attitude and behavior was extraordinary. I had to run up to his school and give him his shot at lunch because of a schedule change. As he hurried out of the clinic, he turned back hollered a “Thank you Mom! Love you!” and rushed off to the cafeteria. My heart melted.
That evening he was very sweet, affectionate, and a little clingy. Understandably so.
At dinner he folded the napkins (and taped them all up with scotch tape???) and assembled a fall centerpiece on our kitchen table. He destroyed several of my decorations around the house in the process, but it was a sweet gesture and it will remain there the rest of the season. He asked me to light the candle and he issued a “no elbows on the table” rule, which his 8th grade sister found quite annoying.
As bad as things could have gone, everything ended up ok in the end. I believe that it helped Ian have a better appreciation for all that we do for him to keep him safe and healthy. I think that this little scare also made him (really, all of us) see things from a different perspective. It reminded us all (no matter how busy we are) to slow down, take some extra time and care, and be grateful for every day.
That night I caught Ian and Blue sharing a different view of the yard on a rainy day.