Fuck You, Type 1 Diabetes

This is one of those days I wished T1 diabetes would listen and take a flying leap off the tallest cliff, never to return. 

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. 

The Hierarchy of Equality

The other evening, I went with my oldest daughter to our local high school, which I attended, um, twenty-ish years ago. Shh.  Don't tell people I'm that old, 'cause in my mind I'm still eighteen most days! 

After the information session, she and I wandered the halls.  They've changed very little.  Even the lockers are the same colour.  Yes, really.  I gave a running commentary as we walked:  cool kids' hallway; geeks, nerds and not so smart kids' hallway; middle kids' hallway.  Showed her where my locker was:  geeks, nerds and not so smart kids' hallway.  Now I did this commentary in a funny way.  She giggled and smiled the entire time, but it got me to wondering if the hierarchy has changed.  Is there more equality and less social "class" than twenty years ago?  I questioned my nephews who currently attend this high school; and, no, it has not.  Same hallways.  Just a new generation.  A few different descriptions for the same class of people.

Grande Prairie is -- and always has been -- a city who places high importance on societal status.  You must be from a certain family.  Your family must have certain "things" and live in a certain neighborhood.  Your family must have the appearance of being "moneyed", even if they are in debt past their eyeballs.  You must also know certain business owners or families who have long been in this area.  It doesn't matter if these people are nice.  Or honest.  Kind.  As long as you have met them at least once and can claim an acquaintance with them.

Me?  I've long been a rebel.  I honestly couldn't give a shit to know most of the so-called "cream of society".  Why?  A lot of the ones I have met are not that nice.  They are selfish, dishonest people who are completely happy to throw you to the wolves while saving their own asses to gain financially -- or otherwise -- from doing so.

I have met a few from the "upper crust" who are great people.  Mostly because they don't behave as if they are moneyed or entitled in some way.  They are just genuine, kind people who had to earn what they now have.  The hard way -- with sweat and hard work.  Unlike many who had it passed down to them.

It truly disappoints me to know that Grande Prairie has changed so little in the last twenty years.  Visiting the high school made me acutely aware of this.  Why must we go around thinking we are more entitled than the next guy because of where we live?  How long we've been here?  How much money out mommies and daddies have?  How amazing so-and-so is simply because they are a front-runner in a little society -- yet are a terrible, mean-spirited person out of the public eye?

When will people understand this behaviour will carry on as long as those of us in the "middle" and "bottom" allow it to continue?

There is no equality in society.  Merely an hierarchy as old as the feudal days of the 15th century, with a touch of sentimental "equality" that is never realized.

The more things change; the more they stay the same.

Advocating - Where to start?

My type 1 diabetic daughter recently had a clinic appointment. This appointment consists of a half hour visit with a nurse, dietitian and a paediatrician, respectively. 

I've struggled with this clinic for over a year now, for several reasons. 

First, I have to call them to be seen and there are often very long stretches between appointments. This allows for frustration and higher A1C's because there isn't consistent professional support. The clinic we came from booked us every three months, without my having to chase them.  You also knew when your next appointment was two and a half months in advance. It was great to be able to plan so far in advance. 

The next problem I have with our current clinic is lack of professionalism and knowledge. The nurse we have seen the last few times has asked the most ridiculous questions, leaving me to question -- and trust -- her knowledge of this tricky disease. I'll give you an example of her most recent faux pas:  six months ago, we were struggling with low blood sugars. Changes were recommended (that didn't work and I was left with no support to figure it out). Anyway, she asked me how many changes we made to my daughter's basal (background) insulin rates. Wow. I was flabbergasted. Anyone who deals with this disease knows multiple changes to this rate were made in the last six months. This blatant lack of knowledge certainly does not garner a trusting relationship. 

While we see a paediatrician for these appointments, they don't specialize in endocrinology. The clinic we came from had three. Not only did they specialize, they were also part of a research team for type 1 diabetes. The knowledge base and experience was incredible. If they recommended a change, it worked. 

Our current dietitian is quite helpful, but she's filling a maternity leave. The permanent dietitian is not helpful nor does she seem particularly knowledgeable when questioned. 

Needless to say, we both leave the clinic frustrated, angry and thoroughly disgusted. 

So where does advocacy come into play?  I'd like to see this clinic re-vamped with a paediatric endocrinologist, knowledgeable nurse(s), with one specializing in insulin pumps, and keep the helpful dietitian. I'd like my daughter to be seen every three months and not have to chase anyone for an appointment.  It would be great to be able to call someone -- if only for a second set of eyes -- and have them understand the readings and recommend changes that work. 

We are a growing city that services a large portion of northern Alberta. Our children deserve to have better care -- without having to travel four hours, or more. Many people from our area choose to travel this distance because it is a better clinic. 

But, where to start?  Who are the powers that be who can help see these changes are made?  Is it AHS (Alberta Health Services)?  Who in AHS would I need to speak with?  Or is it someone higher? A provincial health minister? Or maybe the federal health minister?  Maybe it's as simple as contacting someone with the Canadian Diabetes Assiciation?  Anyone out there know?  

I don't know where to start. But I'd sure love to see these changes happen. 

Not Strong; Just Stubborn

One thing I've heard a lot over the years is how strong I am, especially the last three years. I've come to the conclusion inner strength is disguised as pure stubbornness. Now I'll tell you why.

There've been many incidents over the years where people have admired my strength, but none quite so much as when I describe the surface life as the mom of a child with Type 1 Diabetes.  Details are pointless, unless you also have walked a mile in these shoes. 

Tired doesn't describe D-parents. Exhaustion does. Unmitigated, complete exhaustion. Until you feel like you have no soul, nothing to give. Take the last two weeks, for example. There's not been one night where I've gotten a full night's sleep. Highs, lows but nothing in the happy zone.  No numbers I'm willing to sleep through without at least one check. Make adjustments; more highs and lows. I get up every morning, get the kids ready, drop them at school, go to work for six hours and come home to start the afternoon and evening routine. Strength or pure stubbornness?

Stubborn. Why? Only pure determination can keep you doing what needs to be done when you are beyond tired. 

Most of what I know about T1, I've researched myself or learned from other D-parents. The so-called professionals I work with where we live are basically useless to me. When I ask for help, the common response is:  sounds right. Ooookay. Do you have suggestions of changes I should make to smooth out the bumps we are having? Well, you could try this or that and see what works.  Would've never guessed that. Which change should I choose? Please. Give me a little support. So I keep finding new resources, new books to read and learn from others who've been there. Teaching my daughter how to care for herself, without causing long-term side effects is a huge part of a D-mom. Constant sense of failure when her A1C is not in range, even though you worked your tail off. Strength or stubborn?

Stubborn. Again, you gotta keep moving forward. 

Many people are under the impression I'm calm, smart, strong. No one realizes I'm none of those things. I'm just like you. I just don't verbalize my angst because it solidifies the ugliness. No. I'm merely stubborn. 

It's what gets me through. Gets me up in the morning; sometimes with a smile, sometimes not. Keeps me looking after my beautiful girls and husband. Keeps me from "losing it", although I do melt down occasionally for a day or two, pick myself up, dust myself off and keep moving. 

Inner strength is just a nice way of saying you are stubborn as hell. 

Anti-Bullying Awareness Day

A friend of mine made a thought-provoking status wondering how wearing pink prevents bullying.  There were many comments under his status of kids who have been bullied.

Bottom-line?  A colour changes nothing. All it brings is awareness to a growing societal issue.  Unfortunately, I believe we've taken away our children's right to defend themselves with the zero tolerance for physical violence.  The child being bullied gets suspended right alongside the bully if there is a physical altercation.  This is wrong.  There should be no consequences for defending yourself.  Particularly if the school has been made aware of the situation. 

My youngest daughter had an issue in grade 6 that progressed from innocent disagreements to a nasty, little bully hitting the brick wall of this mom, but  later attempted many underhanded ways to get even.

It began with the odd jealous text when my daughter would be hanging out with other friends.  This girl lived in a different neighbourhood and couldn't simply walk over to play.  Finally, after several such texts, each one nastier, my daughter reacted by telling her to quit being a jerk.  That's it.  The truthful comment that started it all.  My daughter ignored her texts for the rest of the day.  Proper thing.

The following morning, this kid begins to "spam" text my girl.  She started with an apology but when Darian didn't reply, she went back to the jealous texts.  Darian brought her phone to me.  I identified myself, asking her to stop.  This child had the gumption -- if not the brains -- to continue her dialogue with me.  I refused to respond and called her mother to request that her child knock it off.  While the child no longer texted my girl, this is not where the story ends.

She continued at school by attempting to draw other kids into her hatred towards my daughter, until her mother accosted me in the hallway after school saying her child was coming home in tears because mine was being mean.  All right.  I told her I'd investigate.  Meanwhile, both of our girls came over to wait for the conversation to finish.  This girl got upset with me, saying she was sorry and didn't understand why Darian no longer wanted to be friends.  Really???

This is a little pearl of wisdom all parents should pass on to their children, and I passed it on to this young lady that day:  Saying you are sorry doesn't erase the hurtful things you have done.  Your actions will.  And your actions have not changed.  It was at this point, her mother hung her head and the conversation ended.

After that, I did my research.  I spoke to kids, teachers and the vice-principal.  NONE of them had seen -- or heard -- anything my child had supposedly done or said.  The next time she lashed out at my child at school, it was dealt with on a higher level until she quit attempting to get at Darian directly.  However, there were a couple other girls who attempted similar stunts because of the original altercation, and they were shut down without involving the school, parent-to-parent.

You know the truly sad part of this story?  This young lady continues these antics with other kids, while her parents sit idly by, assuming it is the other child's fault.  They are completely unwilling to acknowledge their daughter has issues.  They are unwilling to give her discipline.  Ultimately, this girl is the one who will be hurt.  She will become a mean-spirited adult who thinks she can do exactly as she pleases.  That hurting others is okay as long as she gets what she wants.

Bullying begins at home with a lack of consequences and parental awareness.

Parents, please involve yourself with your kids.  Know what's going on.  Sit and watch them in their group when they are unaware of your presence.  Don't assume your child is an angel.  Be aware of their faults, strengths and weaknesses.  

Sometimes kids DO need to solve their own issues.  But don't let them try to handle these types of situations alone with only a school system for back up. After all, schools have limited disciplinary measures.  Don't be afraid to jump in feet first and deal with it parent-to-parent before your child is driven to desperate measures.  Better a little confrontation than a tragedy. 

The Love of Hockey

In Canada, there is one single sport drawing nearly all of us with its brilliant flame -- hockey.  Some of us don't follow it religiously.  Many do.  Some merely follow the NHL play-off games.  Some only pay attention to Olympic hockey.  Any way you look at it, Canadians love their hockey and will get involved on some level to cheer for our players.

The recent Olympic Games are a perfect example of that.  The games we relish the most are against the United States of America -- there were over a million of us watching the Canadian vs. USA games on Thursday and Friday.  At work.  In malls.  In bars.  Home.  Wherever we could get the game.  There's a couple reasons for this intense rivalry.

First and foremost:  it's our game.  The first organized game was played in Montreal in the late 19th century.  We've owned this game for many years -- until USA figured out how to maintain ice in their warmer States and realized it was a multi-million dollar adventure.

Second:  USA is like the oldest sibling who is used to winning.  Used to receiving more accolades.  Used to looking down their noses at the rest of the siblings because they are bigger and stronger.

Third:  Canada is like the youngest sibling, if you will.  We are the nice, little pain in the ass.  The jokester.  The fun country who willingly helps others without causing war and strife -- and for this we are often lauded as a very pleasant people.  In fact, other countries often remark on the fact Canadians are too nice.  My reply has always been they have not pissed us off yet.  We don't fight unless we can back it up, then we will quietly kick your ass -- with a smile.  Yet another tribute to us.  We do just about everything with a smile.  After all, life was meant to be enjoyed.

The other part of hockey we love, is the after-game ribbing.  We good-naturedly tease and torment one another with some vicious slams.  There are crying towels to be "thrown" at our opposition.  There's better luck next time because we know -- at some point -- our favorite team is going to triumph over yours.  We enjoy our verbal tormenting of one another -- win or lose.  We've got the comments worked out in our heads already -- win or lose.  Why?   It's all a part of hockey culture.  Our game.

Unfortunately, Americans take our game far too seriously.  They don't have fun with it -- it's only about the win.  Which is why they hit the brick wall of Canada's hockey team, even though most of their best players are trained here, on Canadian soil, by Canadian coaches.

Both games were absolutely amazing -- particularly the women's.  USA was kicking our asses -- until the last few minutes of the third period where we miraculously tied it up and stole it out from under them in over time.  The US goalie threw her stick off to the side.  You won't see Canadians pull this kind of poor-sport antic.  We may be pissed that we lost, but we will smile and say "good game".  There was also the alleged incident in the 2002 Olympics where the US women were said to have thrown our flag on the locker room floor and stomped on it.  Our reply was "would you like us to sign it for you?"

Humor is Canada's crowning character.

After this amazing game between the women, the men were up to play against USA.  It was a running joke on social media the men needed to play like girls.  And play like the girls, they did.  They held a 1-0 lead for most of the game.  It was a beautiful game.  No matter which side of the border you sit on.

This is where the difference between Canadians and Americans becomes crystal clear.  Canadians were still having fun with this -- in true Canadian style.  We threw insults out there such as:  how do you make an American cry?  Canadians win.  Again!!  And, USA got their heavy metal colours mixed up; forgot which colour was the best one.  Among so many others it's impossible to count.

Unfortunately, Americans sulk when they lose.  They say nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  There were no good-natured rants that came our way.  No replies to any of our ribbing.  No smart-mouth comments.  No "we'll get you next time".  Not even a "good game".  Nothing.  Only silent pouting...  No doubt, their social media is full of insults -- but they don't have the balls to direct them at any Canadians.  Why?  They know we are full of good-natured slams.  They know we taught them this game.  They know it belongs to us.  They know we will win the verbal assault -- just like we did the Olympic hockey game.

To which I say:  that's the game; suck it up, Princess!

Because, after all, it is just a game.  It's not a war that MUST be won.  (By the way, in the war of 1812, Canadians kicked American ass back to the White House and burned it.)

These were two spectacular games with nothing to be ashamed of.  Canadians never forget this.  It's still fun -- win or lose.  That's what games are meant to be.  It's something USA citizens need to learn...

So the next time Canadians kick your asses, don't pout.  Don't go silent.  Step into the circle, face off and learn how to have fun.

"Drop-In" Clinic???

This week, I took my fourteen year old daughter to a "drop-in" clinic because she was suffering from a sinus infection.  Our family doctor is away for several more days so I was unable to take my girl there.

Anyway, we get to the "drop-in" clinic around 3:30, which isn't really late in the day.  The first question we were asked was "do you have an appointment?"  Well, hmm.  Nope.  I was under the impression this is a drop-in clinic.  They claim to be.  They just book appointments and have a cut-off time for accepting more drop-in patients.

In my mind, you are not a "drop-in" clinic if you book appointments.  Appointments defeat the purpose.  If you were actually wondering if we had already checked in, then word your question differently so there's no confusion, frustration or annoyance. I also understand you must have a "cut-off" time for accepting patients or the clinic would be open twenty-four hours.

They directed me to a new drop-in clinic that is only open from 5 p.m. until 9 p.m.  It was approximately an hour till they opened, so my daughter and I cruised by the location.  They had one enormous sign on an office building with multiple offices.  Not ONE sign on the door we needed to go in when the time arrived.  Really???  Are we just supposed to pick one and hope for the best?

Now, I'm beyond annoyed.  I'm just plain ol' pissed.  This is why I rarely do the "right" thing of going to a drop-in clinic and head straight to the emergency room.  We wasted forty-five minutes when we could have been waiting at the hospital.  Forty-five minutes off the over-all treatment time.  Forty-five minutes with no frustration, annoyances or anger.  Forty-five minutes neither of us will ever get back.

We were in the emergency room for approximately two hours.  Start to finish.  They have a "fast-track" area that speeds simple cases through.  The emergency room did a great job.  Thank you.

To all the rest of you so-called "drop-in" clinics:

#1:  Don't advertise yourself as a drop-in clinic if an appointment needs to be booked.

#2:  Put your damned sign on the door so people can find you.