Managing Rowan's Type 1 Diabetes (she's 8, dx age 6) is such a multi-sensory experience. The sounds, the smells, the feel of all the equipment in our hands. It is like a poem within an experience too often overlooked or rushed through, rarely savoured.
The feel of pulling apart a hygenically sealed package containing her insulin resevoir. The resistance of puncturing the squishy top of the insulin vial. The pressure when drawing the insulin out from the vial into this tiny container. Pulling the pump tubing taut in an effort to straighten it from it's curled position of hibernation.
The sound of the lid of her test strips container 'clicking' back into place. The sound of her lancer cocking back before puncturing her finger. The beep of her glucometer as she slides her test strip into test the freshly drawn blood. Her heavy sigh when her number is higher than it should be. Her near glee if she's low and gets to treat it with a sugary candy.
The crinkle of the cereal bag. The beeps of the scale as she punches in the right code for her cereal and zeroes out the weight of the bowl. The endearing bellow of the carbohydrate count and notifying me of how much insulin she's being given by her insulin pump.
"Moooooooooooooooooooooom, 68 grams of carb's, 1.5 units of insulin, dual wave bolus over 30 min"
But my favourite: the scent.
Unless you have had experience in a diabetic household, you likely aren't familiar with the smell of insulin. Much like the scent of gasoline, the scent itself is an experience. Insulin smells mechanical, nearly metallic. That's the only way I can describe it. The smell will linger on your hands long after washing it off. If you spill it in a room, you'll likely drive your animal friends nuts. But that smell.... that linger.... that to me, is one more reminder to be grateful.
So completely, absolutely, utterly BEYOND grateful.
The feel of pulling apart a hygenically sealed package containing her insulin resevoir. The resistance of puncturing the squishy top of the insulin vial. The pressure when drawing the insulin out from the vial into this tiny container. Pulling the pump tubing taut in an effort to straighten it from it's curled position of hibernation.
The sound of the lid of her test strips container 'clicking' back into place. The sound of her lancer cocking back before puncturing her finger. The beep of her glucometer as she slides her test strip into test the freshly drawn blood. Her heavy sigh when her number is higher than it should be. Her near glee if she's low and gets to treat it with a sugary candy.
The crinkle of the cereal bag. The beeps of the scale as she punches in the right code for her cereal and zeroes out the weight of the bowl. The endearing bellow of the carbohydrate count and notifying me of how much insulin she's being given by her insulin pump.
"Moooooooooooooooooooooom, 68 grams of carb's, 1.5 units of insulin, dual wave bolus over 30 min"
But my favourite: the scent.
Unless you have had experience in a diabetic household, you likely aren't familiar with the smell of insulin. Much like the scent of gasoline, the scent itself is an experience. Insulin smells mechanical, nearly metallic. That's the only way I can describe it. The smell will linger on your hands long after washing it off. If you spill it in a room, you'll likely drive your animal friends nuts. But that smell.... that linger.... that to me, is one more reminder to be grateful.
So completely, absolutely, utterly BEYOND grateful.
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