Tag Archives: depression

Diabetes Isn’t Funny…And Neither Is This Blog

I have been struggling to write lately. I had been blaming it on our busy fall schedule, having the house on the market, the move, the holidays…..

But it seems that those were just excuses.

I think I have identified the problem.

Diabetes isn’t funny.

I am a funny person (people tell me this anyway). And I do know, and fully admit, that I always use humor to diffuse unpleasant situations. So I love to write funny shit. And I was blessed with a personality and perspective to always find the funny shit.

But diabetes isn’t funny.

And this blog is about diabetes and my thoughts, feelings and experiences with having a child diagnosed with diabetes. And I passionately want to educate people about this disease and I want to be a source of information for new families facing this awful diagnosis.

But again, I have to say it. Diabetes isn’t funny.

I mean, it’s not even remotely funny.

There is nothing funny about blood sugars in the 500’s with moderate ketones.

And I assure you that a blood sugar of 31 is not going to get a chuckle from me.

I promise you that worrying about whether my son will loose his eyesight or keep his limbs, is not the least bit whimsical.

Hoping and praying that my son will someday find someone who will love him and be willing to take on the beast that is this disease does not crack me up.

So, all I am left to write about is the sad, scary, lonely, depressing feelings I have about diabetes.

And that sucks.

It bums me out.

I have already written posts about how type 1 has nothing to do with sugar, and that it really is about a confused immune system and bad luck. I have written many times about how tired I am now that I have to set alarms and check blood sugars all night long and how that contributes to anxiety and feelings of depression.

I have written about the “Honeymoon” period and even about diabetes and ADHD.

Sure I have peppered in a few non-diabetes related posts about ants, laundry, computers and make-up (this one is hilarious-if I do say so myself! And totally true!)

I’ve even written more than one post about not having anything to write about!

But this blog is supposed to be a source for others going through the same thing to find valuable information about timely, targeted diabetes information!

Right?

Ok, so I’ve made a decision.

This is my blog and I can do whatever I want. I didn’t sign any contract to ONLY provide diabetes related posts!

And the fact is, that while others that are going through the same thing as me DO need diabetes information, they are still regular people who need to laugh and get AWAY from diabetes sometimes.

Sometimes you need to read about how someone else’s 5 year-old had a MASSIVE code brown in the MEN’S room at a high school during your other son’s basketball tournament and how you had to have your oldest son stand guard outside and not let any men in and how in the end you had to abort the underwear  AND shorts AND shoes and usher the 5 year-old out the side door before you either got chastised by the janitor or arrested for having a half-naked 5 year-old in a public place. (Yeah, pretty sure we are not welcome at Shawnee Mission West High School anymore).

So, my friends, as I am entering the second year of my blog, I am taking it a new direction. If I’m ever going to write again. I’m going to have to start including some non D material.

After all, the name of the blog is WifeMomPancreas, because I am not just a pancreas!

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A Mother’s Wish

sunrise tree***So….it has been so long since I have blogged that I just found this post that I wrote back at the beginning of December and, for reasons that I cannot remember, I did not post. So this should have been posted on December 2nd….better late than never??? Anyway….

Tonight I met the mom of a boy that is in the cast of Nuncrackers with Large. We’ve know of this boy for a while because he is active in the Kansas City theater community, but this is the first time he and Large have done a show together. Several of us parents were lamenting at how busy life is especially with these theater kids and rehearsals and how most of us live so far away from downtown and the areas where most of the theaters are.  All of us in the conversation were working moms. One of the mom’s has recently gone back to full time work and I was commiserating with her as less than 2 years ago I went from part time to full time too. I mentioned how that was already hard and then Medium was diagnosed with t1d this year and how much I hate being so far away from him every day. So the mom of this other boy sits up and says that her oldest has type 1 and has had it for 14 years. Who knew?  She was asking how we were doing and commented how the first year was the hardest.

I sort of unleashed on her and told her about the downward spiral I took into the deep, dark pit of despair (the DDPOD) right after diagnosis. I told her that what sent me into that pit was reading things, mostly blogs on the internet, and being smacked in the face with the reality of what our life was going to be like and all of the things that I hadn’t yet worried about but now knew to worry about. I told her how I started a blog to deal with my emotions. She told me that she wrote and recorded a song with her son about how she felt. And as she was telling me this it was sounding really familiar. Turns out, we got her CD in the hospital with a bunch of other stuff; poems, books, websites, etc. And her song was one of the things that I just could not listen to in those early days. The words were written inside the CD and I started to read them, but couldn’t even finish. I didn’t want to learn any more things that I needed to worry about. I already knew that I was praying for a cure, but I wasn’t ready to really know what that meant. Because what it meant was that every day for the rest of my life I would hope and pray for a cure so that my son could live a long, happy life with legs that would take him where he wanted to go. So that he could see the world with strong eyes, and have a strong heart to find the right girl. (Words from Renee Austin’s song, “A Mother’s Wish”.)

So I came home tonight and I went somewhere I hadn’t been in a long time. I opened the drawer that held all of those poems, and books and her CD. And I got it out and I listened to it for the first time. And I cried just as hard today as I probably would have if I had listened to it back then.

Because it is true. It is the ugliest truth there is; that your child’s health and happiness are threatened every day.

But I have a different perspective now than I had ten months ago and I wasn’t crying from that same terrified place. I’m not going back into the DDPOD. That was a place where there was no hope.

I am still scared. I am still sad. I still worry every day about my son’s future.

But I have hope now.  Ten months ago I had no hope.

We are doing this. It is hard, and scary and awful sometimes. But we are doing it.

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It’s My Blog And I’ll Cry If I Want To

I have been writing a lot about myself lately. This life-changing curve ball that has been thrown at me has really knocked me off my center and I am struggling to find my way back to equilibrium. And, this is my blog so I’ll cry if I want to. But I do want to make a few things clear.

#1-No matter how bad things seem on some days, I am well aware that they could be much worse. I know there are people out there who might look at my situation and think it was a walk in the park compared to what they are going through. And I know, and am related to, some people who would probably give their right arm to have our issues instead of their own. I never want my writing to sound whiny. I know that despite the hand we have been dealt, we are still abundantly blessed and I try hard to remember to find those blessings each day.

#2-I am not exhausted because my kids are over-involved in after school activities. I am exhausted from 3 continuous months of fragmented sleep. Period. Each kid only has one activity right now, and to be totally honest, thinking about going to watch one of them play or perform on the weekend is the only thing that gets me through the work week. So yanking them out of their activities will not solve my exhaustion problem.

#3-My husband is not nearly as affected by all of this as I am. I guess you could chalk it up to men just being a more simple creature than us complicated women folk. My husband pointed out to me after reading some of my posts that we have very different feelings about the way things are going. While I am exhausted, stressed, overwhelmed, worried, anxious and sad, he is just, well, fine. I mean, he doesn’t over analyze anything. It just is what it is for him. How I wish it could be that simple for me. I guess in a way it is good that it is so cut and dry for him, because I don’t know what we would do if we were both wound as tight as I am, but conversely, he knows that I am worried enough for the both of us, so managing Medium’s diabetes has fallen 100% on me. A friend commented the other day at how well Medium seemed to be doing and my comment was, “yes, he is doing great, because he isn’t the one managing his diabetes, I am.” I am the one running around with a net making sure that if, despite my best efforts, he falls, I will be there to catch him and he won’t get hurt.

#4-Having just said that Medium isn’t managing his diabetes, is kind of not true. I mean, he doesn’t make his own endo appointments, and he doesn’t make sure he has enough supplies and then call in his refills to the pharmacy or pour over doctor/hospital bills, but for what he can do, what a 10 year-old is capable of, he is a ROCK STAR! He makes me so proud. Other than a not-so-minor problem of him sneaking food (the chocolate chips and who knows what else he got into last night had him in the 300’s all night) he is all over the details of his disease. He accurately counts carbs, has mastered giving himself a bolus and all of the settings of his pump, and is very in-tune to how his body feels. He also understands the somewhat complex (at least for a 10 year-old) relationship between specific foods, insulin, his blood sugar, and his continuous glucose monitor. He told me that today his pump kept beeping at him to alert him of a low while he was at school. I asked him what he did. He said that he didn’t do anything because he knows that there is usually a lag between his CGM reading and what he really is, and he had just eaten a snack without dosing so he knew he would be fine. I seriously had to fight back tears. Tears of sadness that he has to mess with all of this when he should just get to be a 4th grader at school, but tears because I am so proud of how he learned all of this and how he just accepts that it is what it is.

#5-If I could learn to just accept that things are what they are sometimes, I would probably be a lot less stressed. My husband and Medium are the two least stressed people I know. When I am done crying, I will work on that!

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Seasons

Three months; twelve weeks; eighty-four days; two-thousand sixteen hours; one hundred twenty thousand nine hundred sixty minutes; seven million two hundred fifty-seven thousand six hundred seconds–how do you measure a quarter of a year? Even though I loved it, this post has nothing to do with the Broadway musical “Rent” (it was the first show I ever saw on Broadway, and these words resemble, albeit badly, words from one of my favorite songs from the musical, “Seasons of Love”). But diabetes has nothing to do with “Rent”. “Rent” is the story of a group of young people trying to survive under the shadow of a horrible, incurable disease…….hmmmm.

Medium was diagnosed with type I diabetes three months ago, in the winter. Now it is spring. A season seems an appropriate amount of time time. Appropriate amount of time for what? I feel like people think I should be “over it” already. That enough time has passed that things should just be back to normal now. That a season should be enough time to figure out how to live our new lives and just accept that “life goes on”. And it does. Life does go on. The cool, rainy afternoons of spring will, no doubt, make room for the hot, lazy days of summer. And certain things have gotten easier. I know how to count carbs, I know how to handle lows, and I can change out the reservoir set on Medium’s pump in less than 5 minutes. Diabetes doesn’t consume my every waking moment (and most of the sleeping ones too) anymore.

But you know what? No matter how many winters melt into spring or summers fade into fall, Medium doesn’t get better. If anything, he gets worse. Elevated blood sugars over time will wreak havoc on his body in the years to come. No matter how much time passes, we will still have to check his blood sugar 10 or more times a day, we will still have to count carbs and deliver insulin with every meal, we will still have to check his blood sugar overnight (or worry about him), we will still have to see the endocrinologist every 3 months, we will still have to bring snacks and rescue supplies with us wherever we go, we will still have to teach every caregiver, teacher, friend, school nurse, or coach he ever comes in contact with about his disease and what to do in case of an emergency. It never ends. The worry, the fear for his long-term health, it takes it’s toll on us.  All of us. We are exhausted; mentally, emotionally; physically. The stress it has put on this family is immeasurable, yet palpable.

But most people think that we are “fine”. We are still going to work every day, the kids go to school and keep up with their activities. We are going through the motions. Everything seems “fine”. We don’t really have a choice.

But we are not “fine”.

We will never be “fine” when the health and well-being of one of our kids is threatened. So until there is a cure, we are not “fine”.

So feel free to keep asking us how we are doing, or if there is anything you can help us with. Feel free to continue to pray for us and for a cure. Remember that as the seasons change, our efforts to keep our son healthy don’t. Feel free to let your heart ache for Medium and what he has to go through.  Because no kid should ever have his life threatened and his innocence ripped from him. And no family should have to helplessly stand by and watch it happen.

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What You See Is What You Get

Yesterday I posted something very personal, a little too personal according to some.  I do my best to be kind and responsible, thoughtful and respectful.  I am a passionate person so I have to keep myself in check and make sure I am making rational decisions and not emotional ones.  My decision to be transparent yesterday was actually very well thought out.  You see, I am very confident in who I am.  I am confident that I am not perfect and have lots of flaws.  And that is just the way it is.  I am too tired to try and pretend to be something I am not, to act one way with certain people and then another way with others.  With me, what you see is what you get, good or bad.  And I’m not going to lie to you, sometimes, it’s bad.  But I own it.  When I make mistakes, I apologize for them and do what I can to fix them.   I think if people understand where you are coming from and they don’t have to guess what your intentions are, then they respect you.  That doesn’t mean they like you or agree with you, but they respect you.  So I hope that whether you like me or not for publishing my post yesterday, whether you agree with it or not, hopefully you at least respect me. But if you don’t, that’s okay too!   🙂

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Just Another Manic Tuesday

Today is a good day.  It is gorgeous outside, 75 degrees and sunny.  I am home with my kids today and Medium’s blood sugars are in range and he is feeling good.  We met with an insulin pump company and have made our decision.  I just had a good meal and am sipping on a diet Coke.  I am feeling, in a word, manic.  Yes, I said it, manic.  As in manic-depressive.  Does that make you uncomfortable?  Now, let me set the record straight right now.  I have not been diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  And I am not pretending to be a doctor, a psychologist or an expert in any way, and none of this is intended to be medical advice.  These are simply my opinions and interpretations of myself and my moods.  While I do not think that I have the clinical diagnosis of bipolar disorder; depression, anxiety and mental illness run in my family.  And I think I am on the spectrum somewhere.  I don’t believe mental illnesses are just black or white, that either you have them or you don’t.  Instead, I think there are varying degrees of them and I think people have a varying ability to control them.  Just like one person might have slightly high cholesterol and can manage it with diet and exercise, another person might have very high cholesterol and might need medication to control it.  Or how a brittle diabetic has a very difficult time controlling their blood sugars despite their best efforts, while someone else’s body responds well to their insulin therapy.  Much like the sullen teenager dressed in all black, mental illness is misunderstood because of its face value.  We hear the word “mental” and we think the mind has some kind of control over the situation, and sometimes it can. Psychotherapy has proven very helpful to many people in managing their varying degrees of some mental illnesses.  But what most people don’t understand is that many “mental” illnesses actually have physiological roots.  They are chemical imbalances in the brain.  We have no more control over developing  those imbalances as Medium had over developing type 1 diabetes.  Society has made it shameful to admit that you suffer from some level of mental illness, because it is deemed as controllable and therefore you are weak or crazy if you don’t control it.  And talking openly about your mental illness makes others uncomfortable, so most people just don’t talk about it.  Well, I am not most people, and I talk too much so here it is.  I suffer from mental illness, or whatever some people want to call it.  I battle depression and anxiety in varying degrees sometimes. I am a germaphobe and am probably a little OCD, too (I like all the labels in my pantry to be facing out, I can’t sit with my back to a door, I wash my hands, A LOT, am addicted to hand sanitizer, stuff like that).  Some people would argue that these things do not qualify as true mental illnesses.  That only if I was not able to function on a daily basis because of these things could I claim to suffer from mental illness.  Whatever, call it what you want.  But like I said, I believe it is a spectrum and I feel like most people I know are on it somewhere, so I don’t know why we are so afraid to talk about it.  I do not take anti-depressants although I have tried them before.  I just don’t think I saw a real benefit from them, so for me, it is not the answer.  But I believe for some people, it is absolutely necessary and vital to their health and wellness.  I am not going to pretend that I know or fully understand the complexities of mental illness.  I just know that some days, (like today) my mood is great and I feel like I can take on the world, and some days I feel like I am tumbling down a deep, dark hole of despair.   And sometimes, I stay in that deep, dark hole for days or weeks.  I always find my way out of the hole with a combination of love, patience and understanding from my family, a visit to a therapist and an occasional Xanax.  These are my tools.  But just because I can control my depression, anxiety and mood swings with these tools and not anti-depressants, doesn’t mean that others should be expected to manage their disease the same way.

A diagnosis of any life-threatening chronic disease with no cure will no doubt bring on a firestorm of emotions, but diabetes especially so.  The days of a diabetic are filled with highs and lows, literally.  One minute you are in range, and the next you are not, and that can be hard to deal with. Diabetics (and their caregivers) should be monitored for developing depression.  When Medium’s BG’s are in range, I am much more likely to be in a good mood and when they are not, well, that’s when I have to use my tools to keep me out of the deep, dark hole.  The first two weeks of Medium’s diagnosis, I was in the hole. Big time.

I do a pretty good job of managing my mental illness.  As I do with most things, I use humor to deal with it.  I joke about my mental state, call myself crazy or neurotic, because if I do it first, then it takes the power away from the words and others can’t use them to tear me down.  It also makes people laugh and relax and it opens up dialog about a topic that needs a lot more awareness.  Some of my favorite conversations are the ones where I am trading stories of neurosis with someone else.  We both walk away feeling like we are not alone, and ironically, like we are NOT crazy!  And chances are that someone who suffers from some level of mental illness is a stone’s throw away from you right now.  So if you are ever given the opportunity to help raise awareness and peel away the shame of mental illness…..JUST DO IT!

I am not a doctor, or a nurse, or a psychotherapist and this is not intended to be medical advice.  This is my blog, and these are my observances and experiences with mental illness.  Your experience with mental illness may be very different from mine and you may disagree with my take on the situation.  Please seek the advice of a medical professional if you have questions or think you may be suffering from a mental illness.

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