In the past few posts, (here and here) I've been talking about how diabetes has been forced to take a back seat over the past few months. I've talked about how it's kind of melted into the background and become just a - dare I say? - normal part of our lives.
But before you start thinking I've found the magic elixir that puts diabetes in it's place and keeps it there, I guess I better come clean.
It hasn't been all rose colored glasses.
Nope. The glasses are definitely still tinted blue.
The other day I was spending a few minutes (*wink*) browsing on Pinterest when I saw this quote:
And it just stopped me in my tracks.
Wiser words have never been spoken.
I might be able to push diabetes into the background. I might be able to ignore it for awhile. I might be forced to put other things ahead of it from time to time. And that might be a good thing.
But none of that makes it go away.
About a week ago, Mr. Funky ( our Elf on the Shelf) came back to visit us. Sweets had been asking about him for days. And then one morning, he showed up! And boy did he show up! He brought with him a very special breakfast and letter from Santa (more on that later).
Sweets was over the moon with excitement! The snowman was made of donuts, laffy taffy, chocolate chips, a mini peanut butter cup and m&m's. Yummy!
Sweets had been running low and when we tested her before breakfast the number that popped up on the meter was a big, fat 54.
Sweets was happy because this meant she could eat the WHOLE THING!
As I stood there watching her eat her special treat, I say a normal six year old little girl brimming with Christmas excitement!
And I also saw a six year old little girl whose hands were shaking. She was having trouble eating.
In that moment, all the pretense, all the fear, the pressure, the worry, the anger, the frustration, the hurt, the pain, the regret, the guilt.... all of it came crashing down around me.
The pain is still there. It might be hidden under scar tissue. You might not be able to see it unless you look close enough. But it's all still there.
I didn't know if I wanted to scream or cry. WHY? WHY must she have to deal with disease? WHY does it have to create havoc in her body? WHY does it change the rules on me constantly? WHY can't she just eat her special breakfast in peace?
We gave her some orange juice. We never give her orange juice.
With a smile stretching across her toothless little face she said, "This is the best low EVER!"
Sweet, sweet girl. I'm glad that's how she sees it. I'd walk to through fire to make sure that she keeps that positive outlook. D kids (and peeps) are amazing like that. Tough as nails. Sweet as sugar.
I tell myself not to let it bother me. If it's no big deal to her... Why should I let it get to me?
But those shaking hands. They tear the scars off a Mama's wounded heart.