What Would You Do?
October 24, 2013
I use social networking for fun, for venting, for voyeurism, and for networking. I like to see what people are doing, watch their children grow through photographs, and giggle at the silly updates.
I talk a tiny bit about work. I write a little bit about hanging out with my girlfriends (and getting that much needed estrogen dose!). I gush a lot about Bon Jovi (my eye candy and the dope for my soul). I brag quite a bit about my kids and my sexy husband (They’re my world). And, I write, I reach out, I blog, I educate tons about Type One Diabetes.
As the date to the JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes rapidly approaches, I’m getting more vocal, more frequently, about our need for donations. Every dollar raised is a dollar closer to a cure for my boys and the 15,000 children diagnosed with this craptastic disease every year.
Once I cleared the depressive fog from my vision after receiving not one, but two, Type One Diabetes diagnoses in 2012, I started acting. I want to fix everything and move on, but this is one thing I could not fix on my own. All I can do is teach my boys, lead by example, learn as much as possible, advocate, and help those who can make a difference in finding better treatments and a cure. It’s a full-time job.
So, today, I started wondering if I annoy people with my frequent posts about Diabetes. I mean, really, I could go on daily about JBJ, but that doesn’t help my boys or our family Walk to Cure Diabetes team. That only helps me J Honestly, I really hope I am not annoying anyone, and I apologize if I am. But, with that being said, I ask…What Would You Do?
What would you do if someone told you your baby now has a manageable but chronic disease? I hope you’d do what I’ve done. You’d put your big girl panties on and deal with it daily, because there are no days off. You’d learn to stick fingers and give shots, multiple times per day, just to keep your baby alive. You’d learn to weigh and measure foods to get the most accurate carb count. You’d learn to study the numbers and patterns on a daily and weekly basis to evaluate patterns in your never-ending quest to keep their blood glucose in the elusive “normal” range. You’d go to every possible medical appointment in different specialties, be at the school regularly, and attend every field trip to make sure your baby is healthy and safe. You’d read anything you could get your hands on to learn more about the disease, more about treatments, more about the current research, more about pending treatments and cures. You’d learn to function on broken sleep like you did when they were newborns, except this time, they won’t outgrow it.
What would you do if you knew medical research and science have developed some great technologies that can lower the amount of injections and finger sticks your baby has to suffer through? What would you do if you knew a cure was on the horizon, but more funding is needed to actualize that dream?
I hope you’d do what I’ve done. My bank account is not big enough to help alone. I can't possibly work enough hours. I’ve never been one to ask for money or chat with strangers, but now, I have to let my guard down and open my mouth. I have to spread the word, educate, and talk. I have to think of new and creative ways to raise money for the one organization that is focused on finding a cure for my boys, Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. Fundraisers. Raffles. Direct donations. Business donations. Letters. Business cards. Newspaper articles. Facebook posts. I have to humble myself and ask for money. I have to get the word out!
If finding a cure is the outcome, I’ll scream it from the mountaintops. I’ll humble myself. I’ll embarrass myself. I’ll annoy people, hoping they’ll take pity on me. I’ll find a way to reach someone, if nothing else but to get a little back from Obama in the form of a tax-deductible donation.
So, again, I apologize if my rants are taxing. As a Mommy, I’m doing all I can do for the sake of my baby boys. I’d take this disease from them in a heartbeat and bear the burden myself, but life won’t let me.
And, again, I ask….What Would You Do?
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