I have never disguised that we are a competitive family. We play to win which leads to emotionally charged games of Monopoly and none of the five of us are particularly good losers.
The worse thing you give a family who want to come first?
A chronic illness we can’t cure.
Having Type 1 Diabetes as an unwelcome house guest feels like starting a battle every day to keep my daughters blood sugar levels in the “normal” range.
Fact: A non diabetic has a blood sugar range of between 4 and 7. All day our body cleverly makes intricate changes that process the sugar in our carbohydrate and keeps us healthy.
A child with diabetes has to make those intricate changes themselves, so our day is a process of mathematical sums to calculate how many carbs are going to be eaten and give the correct dose of insulin to try to maintain the level of normality.
I feel like I am sitting by a chess board, carefully plotting my moves against my invisible opponent.
He is a cheater.
Sometimes I do all the moves right, and diabetes clears the board with his hand, a malicious smile lingering on his lips and sends her sugars flying up to 16
There is no explanation.
Other times she sinks to 3.3 and I watch as colour drains from her cheeks and her knees start to knock and her sentences become jumbled through lack of glucose.
Hypo.
I asked twin girl what it feels like today whilst she was cuddling tight into me with a blood sugar reading of 3.7.
It is like shaking and like, like, my head is moving and I can’t make the words seem right and it is loud and confusing. It’s simply horrid.
People with good control of diabetes have two to three hypos a week.
We continue to battle, the never-ending game of chess.
The days we control it well, I feel jubilant; on the days it dominates poaching my pawns and challenging my Queen we start to plan for the tomorrow. What we will do to win the next twenty-four hours.
The plus about being a stupidly competitive family.
Even when we can’t win; we still keep trying.
Oh such a horror that you are both having to go through this. Keep winning and keep making the diabetes eat chess mate.
Sorry
Hugs
Liska xx
Thanks Liska x
Thank goodness for your competitive family and the need to keep trying to win x
stupid obsessive complusive disorder of mine x
You may not be able to win, but you’re not letting the foe win either. The fact you’ve even managed a stalemate is a credit to you both. If I were engaged in battle you strike me as someone I would like on my side.
cheers lovely x
My Dad was diabetic, and I never realised how it really felt, nor that he was having hypos every week. What a lot of myth there is. Thank you Molly for explaining it so neatly. It’s so not fair when you stick to all the rules and do everything right, that you still don’t win… 🙁
but liveable x x
Oh Jane, I am SO sorry. I think one of the worst things of dealing with diabetes is that from the outside everything looks normal – the kids are playing, munching on snacks, you may be chatting over a coffee and all the while there’s a pre-occupation that perhaps the insulin needs adjusting as your baby has eaten too much or too little or they’ve been running around a lot so “do have a biscuit!” Aggie, my now 4 year old, found her way to several packets of Haribos whilst I thought innocently watching a children’s entertainer and subsequently had a sugar count of 38 – I nearly died! I was obsessed with blood sugar counts – it was the first thing I mentioned when anyone spoke with me – Aggie’s heel was like a pin cushion as I was so scared of her having a hypo – I was breast-feeding her at the time (she was four and a half months) and her sugars were up and down like the proverbial yo yo – 2.4 to who knows! Aggie we were delighted to find out has a peculiar type of diabetes called neo-natal which only affects babies under the age of six months – and this means that she can, rather than being insulin dependent, take a suspension, much as a Type 2 diabetic may. I think you can imagine how MASSIVE that was for us and I still thank whomever for our ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card. I am still waiting for it to go wrong because I need to feel that I could cope with the unbelievable stress and tension associated with Type 1 diabetes. There is still so much ignorance surrounding the disease and why/how it happens – I’m sorry you’re having to spread the word but the JDRF and such will be delighted to have someone so eloquent. Good luck and love to that girl of yours x
Thanks Jo,
sorry it has taken so long to reply, it must have been terrifying to have been diagnosed so young!
I do feel like I am a mission to educate a bit more about diabetes – I was so stupidly ignorant before!
Much love,
Jane x
This may not be something you can win however, I don’t believe it will ever beat you. You are so incredibly strong, I don’t know how you do it.
Gin Laura,
always gin!
I’m a type 1. I was diagnosed at 28. The only thing worse than dealing with it yourself in my mind would be dealing with it for a child – your own child. You have my utmost sympathies. Has she got a continuous glucose monitor? Mine has changed my life. It could really help save your sanity too.
No she hasn’t I need to look into it, not sure we can get one on NHS, imagine it to be much less invasive x
It must be hard seeing Molly going through that and the trying to stay on top of it – very stressful when there’s only so much you can do to protect your child from the impact.
I hope in time it gets easier for both you and you one day get that damn diabetes in to checkmate.
Xxx
Hello
My daughter is 7 and is type one diabetic, she was diagnosed about a year ago. I understand what you are feeling, there aren’t any words really, just heart breaking. I’ve briefly looked at your site can’t work out how long she has been diagnosed or your story so far.
I like your game analogy, shame the rules change sometimes.
Good luck
lovely to meet you, she was diagnosed on Halloween x x x
Thanks x x x
what Laura said.
Nothing beats the Blackmores.
x
Thank goodness she has a mother like you! Sounds like you are doing very, very well :o).
Thanks lovely x