So, this past Tuesday Emma had her 3 month diabetes clinic appointment. Oh yes...the all important clinic visit that we all know and love. It entails a plethora of emotions leading up to the actual day and it usually turns out to be some sort of adventure (for us anyway!) We are over 3 years into this diabetic life and without fail, every single time clinic day approaches I begin to feel the stress ball growing in my stomach. I know it stems from the stress I put on myself to be a perfect pancreas...I know it is an unattainable goal...I know it will never happen...and yet I still do it. Add into the mix the fact that I want to see a good number...I just want to see it...I want that validation that all of those sleepless (or very little sleep anyway) nights are worth it...I want to see the number to prove to myself that I am not doing all of this only to wind up with a horrible result anyway. Another fine ingredient in the recipe for setup to failure is the fact that our doctor is not the most supportive person...I don't think I have ever heard a "keep up the good work" from the doc to be honest.
Sooo....that brings us to the past three months issues...Emma had strep throat, a bad cold, and we encountered a faulty reservoir which resulted in her spending an entire day in the 20's because it took me that long to hone my diabetes detective skills to figure out that was what the issue was! So, I walked into the hospital with all of this baggage on my back...the stress...the self-inflicted pressure, the fear of realizing that all of my efforts were to wind up in a bad number anyway. Let me assure you that it was a pretty heavy load. I have some strong shoulders, but it still felt like I was trudging my way down from the 5th level of the parking garage (I never get a good spot there! GRR!LOL!)
To make a long story short, her a1c did go up a tad....by 0.3 actually...enough to make me want to type a little "Pffft!" at all of the worry and stress I put myself through. It has made me realize though just how much pressure I put on myself...how much of this I take on...how much I convince myself that it is all my stress alone to shoulder...my burden to bear. It's too much. I need to learn how to ease up on myself and realize that diabetes is fickle. Diabetes has a mind of it's own. Diabetes does NOT play fair...in fact it doesn't follow the rules...it has NO rules really. It's sort of like the Fonz from Happy Days in that respect. The Fonz played by his own rules...he slicked his hair back in a sweet pompadour because that was how he liked it. He wore a leather jacket and road a motorcycle because that was his style. He got the ladies...he never had to put a quarter in the jukebox...AND he had a kickass catchphrase. Diabetes is the rebel in this life. Diabetes does what it wants, when it wants, where it wants, and how ever often it wants...cause it can...it sits atop it's shiny black motorcycle chillaxin (yea...I can say that...I know I'm 34...but I can still say that if I wanna! LOL!) and doing whatever it's little heart desires on our episode of "Happy Days". I however am more like Potsie or Ralph Malph...awkward...bumbling along...trying to keep up and fix things as they come. It's far from easy...no one ever said it would be though I guess. So, I'm going to attempt to ease up on myself and not carry around all of this pressure and stress. I'm just gonna sit back once in a while and whistle the "Happy Days" tune to myself.