We are rapidly approaching the 4 year mark with this disease and it is causing me to take a look back and reflect lately. I have been proud of her since day 1 for facing this life...this disease head on. She has put her brave face on even when she isn't feeling brave at all. She has come a long way, shown just how stubborn she is and just how much tenacity and perseverance this life takes. She does it...keeps putting one foot in front of the other...just keeps going.
Yesterday we were hanging out during the precious time after school and before supper. Just her and I, acting silly, playing, and being together. I love that time of day. She has this card game that one of her friends gave her for her birthday a couple of years ago. Some of the cards have actions on them (i.e. roll, tip toe, close your eyes) and some of them have locations on them (i.e. sink, microwave, vaccuum). The point of the game is to make it into a treasure hunt and you collect cards along the way until you reach the end where you will discover a little bag of pretend gold coins. So, she was running around the house hiding these cards and giggling like a goof. Once she had hidden them all, she came running into the room to tell me to start hunting treasure. Well, there we were rolling, giggling, cartwheeling all through the house collecting cards...it was quite the sight I'm sure. At the end of the game, she turns to me, breathless, and says, "Mommy, I think I'm low." Quite possibly my least favorite phrase in the entire world. My heart started that old familiar pounding, pulsing, panicking. I checked her...and sure enough the stupid meter showed me a 2.8. After nearly 4 years with this disease, and countless low blood sugars......I have gotten sort of used to those moments in time. I do not and will not ever like those moments....that feeling...trapped in a time warp of diabetes reality.....but I do admit that I am about as "used to" them as one could ever be. However, when that blood sugar number begins with a "2"....I get a little more panicked than I normally would.
Well, to make a long story short....we treated the low and retested to find she came back up to a better number. My whole point of this story though is to share what went on during the low moment. I used to sit there staring at her...waiting for the color to return to her cheeks, for her to finish the juice or food that i had given her, for the low to go away. I would ask her every so often if she was ok...if she still felt low...if she was ok...if she still felt low...if she was ok. Over and over again....all of the times I have asked her is she was ok.....insanity. Well, lately I have been able to hang in there better...instead of hovering and staring at her....asking her over and over again if she's ok....I can usually feel comfortable with continuing on with what I was doing (i.e. making supper) and I am able to ask her if she feels like the low is coming back up. I love that little piece of progress that comes with experience and age. She is now at a point where she is able to be so in tune with her body that she can feel the low...and feel if it is hanging in there...or if it is going back up. She is more in tune with things and that in turn makes my panic not so terrible. I like that progress. I like that feeling of knowing that she is with me in this...she is on my team...she is part of it instead of just being the victim of it.
It may seem weird to some of you reading this, but yesterday was actually the first low blood sugar that began with the number "2"...that I have ever endured without chest pains. It was the first one that I have been as ok with as anyone can possibly be ok with a low blood sugar. Don't get me wrong, I hate them. I hate lows with a red hot firey passion and I will never be complacent with them or treat them as not being a big deal....but I am seeing a small teeny tiny ray of light with them now...i can see the hope and the teamwork and the experience...and it makes it sting a little less right now...and for that I am greatful.