Diaversary. Weird word.
What does it even mean?
I’m not 100% sure, but I think it means, “diabetes anniversary”. But, it could mean “diagnosis anniversary”.
Either way, it sucks.
It is not something I’m happy about.
I don’t even want to acknowledge it, let alone celebrate it.
I suppose it’s all about the way you look at things. Glass half full versus glass half empty kind of thing.
I know I am supposed to be positive and I usually do try to find the silver lining in every situation. I am always impressed, amazed, and flabbergasted when I read blogs, articles and Facebook posts from people who are going through significant struggles and they are so positive.
But I just can’t be that person today.
There is nothing good about my son being diagnosed with this awful disease a year ago. Nothing.
For 365 days now, his life has literally been threatened.
Veterans of this disease probably don’t think of it that way. Or they don’t focus on it that way. But I am still a newbie, and right now I feel like I will never be able to focus on anything else.
Every day is affected by diabetes.
Even if Medium is having a good day and his numbers are good, I inevitably read on Facebook about someone else’s struggle with their own or their child’s sugars that day. Or I read in the news that someone has died as a result of their diabetes.
I know it is all about perspective.
Because every day there are also millions of people living successful, happy, meaningful lives, despite their diabetes. Every day there are people posting good numbers or successful sleepovers or trips to the movies. Every day people with diabetes are getting married, having healthy babies, graduating from college, playing professional sports. The point is, they are living with diabetes. And so maybe I will be able to see things differently one day, too.
But today is not that day.
Today marks an event that happened a year ago, that changed my life forever; re-defined the word “mother” for me. But more importantly, my son’s life has forever been changed. He is forced to head down a path that I didn’t choose for him. It is a path that no one would choose. God chose this path for him, and maybe someday I will understand why. But right now, I disagree with God. Right now, God and I are going to agree to disagree on this one.
My oldest son, Large, has started talking about driving. He will turn 14 this year and in Kansas, where we live, kids get their driving permits when they are 14, so it is on his mind.
While I was driving home from work last night and driving by the hospital where Medium’s endocrinologist is, a thought smacked me across the face.
Medium will be 14 one day, too. He will want to get his driver’s permit. He will turn 16 and want to drive someday.
This is one of, I’m sure, many situations that I had not yet thought about. The questions started flooding my brain. Will I let him drive? Will I make him check his blood sugar before he starts up the engine every time? Will I ever let him drive alone? How have other D-moms and dad handled this situation?
It just sucks so much for him. I know that is a pretty immature and simplistic way to put it, but it does. It sucks rocks. Big ones.
Not only does he have to have this horrid disease which has robbed him of his innocent and carefree childhood. But it makes him feel like crap sometimes, he has to stab himself with needles 10 times a day (which if you’re counting and can do simple math is 3,650 finger stabbings since diagnosis a year ago), play dates and sleepovers at other people’s houses are almost non-existent, he has to be tethered to a device 24-7 FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE, and he can never just live in the moment. He has to be one step ahead of the game at all times. He has to check his sugar, make sure he has food to treat a low, make sure he has his meter and extra test strips every time he leaves the house. He is singled out at school as a kid with a medical condition.
That is no way for a child to live.
It is so not fair.
And besides how worried I am all the time about his long term health and whether or not the life-saving insulin we give him is going to kill him overnight while we are all sleeping, I am so, so sad for him and this life he is forced to lead.
I know he will have as a great a life as possible, because I will see to it. But the reality is that he has type 1 diabetes.
And that sucks.
And so today, on Medium’s first diaverary, I will not celebrate.
Maybe next January 24th I will feel differently.