When your arm got twisted behind your back as a kid you were allowed to yell, “Uncle,” when you’d had enough and the offender would just let go. Well, Type 1 Diabetes, I’ve had enough and I’m yelling, “Uncle!” Won’t you please let go?
We are just shy of two years of living with this awful disease. My son has endured over 7,200 blood glucose checks. Look at your own hands. Can you imagine pricking them once let alone thousands of times. Little boy hands are for digging in the dirt, and for learning to swim. Little boy hands are for petting really soft kittens, or for a home for a wayward ladybug. Little boy hands are for hugging their mama’s tight, or tickling their little sister’s toes. Little boy hands are not for finger pricks. It’s just not the way it’s supposed to be.
In these two years my son has waited to have the carbs counted on over 2,000 meals not including snacks. Little boys are not supposed to wait for their food. They are hungry, they are growing, they are busy little beings. Little boys don’t have time to wait for their mama to count every carb that is on each and every plate of food just before they can take a bite. That is most definitely not the way it is supposed to happen.
In these past two years my son’s sugar has ranged from as high as 1,000 when he was diagnosed to as low as 31. This little boy has been shaky from his number being to low. He has slurred his words and spilled his drink from a number that was too low. He has gotten ketones and was made to vomit from a number that went dangerously high. This little boy has gotten angry, sad, belligerent, upset, and cranky because of numbers that have been too high or too low. He has missed out on playing for treating lows. He has missed out sleeping for his body dealing with highs. Now I know for sure, none of this stuff is supposed to be happening.
Diabetes is not supposed to happen to kids. It is an awful disease that takes too much out of you, more than any kid should have to give. My little boy has been living with this for two years. I think that’s long enough. It’s time to yell “Uncle!” from the rooftops. We have had enough and we want it to STOP! If only someone that could make it stop were listening.