Woman, Independent Parent, Artist, Advocate, Artifical Pancreas.... and EVERYTHING in between.

I am blessed to be parenting two beautiful girls, ages eight and eleven. My youngest nearly lost her life at age six (August 2010) to diabetic ketoacidosis: an often fatal consequences of undiagnosed type 1 diabetes. This is OUR journey: raw and sometimes, uncensored.

Thank you for visiting wishing good health and a cooperative pancreas to you and yours.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

How Could I Have Forgotten?

I had fifteen minutes of bliss early this morning.

I wish it had stayed that way.

We have been living a diabetic life for thirteen months now. Everyday so much the same, I have no idea what was different this morning.... how on earth I forgot.

Stumbling into the kitchen, I pour breakfast cereal for my two ladybugs. No measuring, no nothing, just regular life from once upon a time.

The girls got dressed, I packed school lunches... their neighbourhood friends rang the doorbell to walk to school with them.

Then it hit me.... we didn't test blood glucose levels.... hell, I didn't even give insulin.



In hindsight, it feels like a cruel tease. Revisiting a life that we all adored so much, only to finally realize, it's not our life to live like that any longer.

My oldest walked to school with her friends, I had to keep Rowan behind so the slow-poke could finish eating her breakfast, and I could inject insulin into her little body.

After dropping her off at school, the tears came sliding down. Damn! I had almost made it to day three of back to school without crying. THAT would have been a record.

I thought I had come to terms with this new family existence. Until my absent-minded bubble of ignorance this morning. Sometimes, reality returns full force, like a brick-wall to the forehead.

We will never again have a morning free of glucose testing. Free of insulin injections. Free of measured cereal and counting 15 grapes. Instead, we wake up each morning, hoping and praying we are one morning closer to a cure.

No.... those aren't tears down the front of my shirt. Well, okay, maybe in some spots. For the most part though, that shiny liquid trail down my shirt is this morning's burst bubble.

One day closer to a cure. Please?

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