Go in to wake my daughter for school and she tells me she feels like throwing up. In the T1 camp, this is bad because it can signify the beginning of DKA (diabetic ketoacidosis). DKA is a condition where blood sugars have risen too high and the body starts to break down other tissue to essentially feed the body -- even though there is a lot of glucose (or food) in the bloodstream already but no insulin to help the body process the glucose.
Mom goes into overdrive, grabs the meter for blood sugar and the meter to test for ketones: blood sugar was 28.5; ketones 3.5. None of those numbers are good. Check infusion site. No longer attached. Shit, shit, shit. Check the cheat sheet and draw appropriate amount of insulin into syringe. Bent the needle. Start again and get it right the second time. Inject my girl. She hates injections. I can't describe the look of resignation and hopelessness on her face when she absolutely must have one. All I know is my heart is ripped out, thrown forcefully on the floor and stomped on by the diabetes giant that controls her body.
It's now almost eight hours later. Blood sugar is back in range, trace ketones and a girl who is feeling a bit better but still looks awful.
This doesn't get easier with time; 3 1/2 years in and it still hurts to see my daughter so sick. Hurts a little more every time she gets this sick. Makes me ill to have to watch her suffer.
But you know what truly bothers me? I'm in the diabetes world on a sojourn. One day, my girl will grow up and take over full diabetes management. One day, I'll get a break.
She will NEVER get a break from this fucking disease. It'll be with her forever causing havoc, no matter how skilled she gets at managing it.
So, today, it's fuck you, Type 1 Diabetes, fuck you.
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