Dear Mr. Boss Man,<\/p>\n
I am tired.<\/p>\n
No, not the I-stayed-up-late-and-watched-Parenthood-tired, but the bone-aching, mind-numbing, I-worked-all-night tired.<\/p>\n
Yes Mr. Boss Man, I do have another job.<\/p>\n
Or rather, your job, is the other job. Your job is the one that pays the bills and gives us health benefits. Your job is the one for which I went to school. Your job is the one for which I have three different certifications. Your job is the one for which I got my Master\u2019s degree. Your job is the one for which I am back in Graduate School. I work at your job from 8:00 am to 3:15 pm. But, you see, Mr. Boss Man, your job is my second job.<\/p>\n
My first job is 24 hours. 7 days a week. 365 days a year. Sometimes minute to minute.<\/p>\n
Forever. And ever.<\/p>\n
In fact last nights shifts were at 11:00 pm, 1:00 am, 3:30 am, 4:40 am, and again at 6:50 am.<\/p>\n
I am on call. I run to emergencies. I run to cries for help. I run into the danger. Nothing is too small for me. I am on call. When called. I run. My first job is on the job training. I am still learning even almost 8 years since I\u2019ve been hired.<\/p>\n
I did not go to school for this. There are no schools. No college. No Graduate School. No certification. July 25, 2007 I was hired on the spot. I knew nothing, and still wonder sometimes if I will know enough. Yet it is the most important job I will ever have.<\/p>\n
No, silly Boss Man, I am not a Superhero. I am a pancreas. Yes, you heard that correctly. I am an organ. I am my son\u2019s pancreas living outside his body. No, I don\u2019t actually hang on his body\u00a0and pump insulin into him, but I might as well. I check his sugar (or make sure he does), then I take those results and figure out WWtPD…What Would the Pancreas Do, I make guesses and hedge my bets on setting the right formulas in my son\u2019s insulin pump so that it can act like a real pancreas.<\/p>\n
Yes, your job in important too. Don\u2019t get me wrong. But there is nothing more important to me than my role as pancreas. You see, because if I screw up, there may not be a second chance.<\/p>\n
So I will take tired. I will take sleeping short clips at a time. I will take that exhaustion that is so deep it hurts. It\u2019s my job.<\/p>\n
No, I\u2019m not a Superhero.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m a mom, of a boy, with Type 1 diabetes. And until there\u2019s a cure, I wouldn\u2019t have it any other way.<\/p>\n
Love,<\/p>\n
Me<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Dear Mr. Boss Man, I am tired. No, not the I-stayed-up-late-and-watched-Parenthood-tired, but the bone-aching, mind-numbing, I-worked-all-night tired. Yes Mr. Boss Man, I do have another job. Or rather, your job, is the other job. Your job is the one that pays the bills and gives us health benefits. Your job is the one for which … <\/p>\n