Inspired

Inspired

10/2/2013

I wake up every morning and do the best I can.  Some days are better than others; some days I feel I am barely surviving or holding it together.  With a household to manage, five sons to keep up with, a husband, a job, two adult daughters, two dogs and Diabetes plopped right in the middle of it, some days I feel I’m doing good to just be upright. 

With all those people to manage, one would think the laundry, grocery shopping, and housework alone would be enough to keep me in stellar shape.  Unfortunately, it’s not. So, one thing I do spend energy on is fitness.  It’s important to me in order to be healthy, feel good, work out stress and look good for my husband.   Honestly, since Diabetes climbed aboard, I’ve been struggling somewhat as after some of those long nights managing high or low sugars, all I want to do is climb back in bed.  And, the generalized fatigue makes it hard to motivate myself to go run 2 or 3 miles after working 12 hours.  My bed beckons.

I was at my peak in 2010.  

I pimped my husband out to pay for a trainer; he’s got mad skills.  I focused on my diet. I ate more protein, more grass clippings, less Corona.  I put in the time at the gym as I should.  It was for a selfish reason.  My husband and I were spending our 10^th anniversary on the beach, and I wanted “those” awesome beach bikini pics.  I’d never had them. I got them!  I felt amazing.  My cholesterol was fantastic. (Exercise and seaweed will do that for you!)  Coolness!

I planned to keep it up.  Immediately after the trip, I had a “friend” sucker punch me. That really knocked me to my knees for a bit.  Then, I fell and broke my arm.  Set-backs.  Once the arm healed, I was back on board for a good 8 months or so before Diabetes jumped on board.  That meant my focus became being a pancreas and working like a slave to pay for it all! Being told your baby has a chronic incurable disease could knock the Incredible Hulk down.  Learning to manage it all diverted my attention. Being told both of your babies have an incurable disease is enough to make Hercules’ knees buckle.  Needless to say, something had to give.

 I kept up with my gym routine as best I could, but it wasn’t the same.  It’s really hard to manage it all with THAT beast on your back!  However, now, I’m back on track.  Working hard to make it right again.  I use that bikini pic as my motivation, what I want to achieve again.  Granted, I’m not bad right now, but I’m not that good! I maintain my weight in a 10-lb range, which is just over the weight at which I graduated high school. I make my weekly gym plans, weekly goals, and longer term goals.  Sometimes my goal is a body fat percentage. Sometimes it’s a certain weight or measurement by a certain date. Sometimes my goal is determined by some life event (wedding, Bon Jovi, vacation), and sometimes it’s just “get your fat ass to the gym like you’re supposed to”!  Some weeks I get in there three times and add extra cardio sessions outside of the gym.  Some weeks I only make it twice. Some weeks I miss all together.  Life can get in the way, and being a Mommy and a pancreas comes first, but I try my hardest.

Despite what I think is failure or weakness on my part, I’ve still somehow managed to inspire someone who’s great herself!  Natalie is a high school friend, always a sweet and funny soul.  She lives in LA and is a fitness trainer!  ME?  I inspired a fitness trainer?!  Come ON!  I posted my awesome bikini photos online after that trip, and when Natalie complimented them, my head swelled!  SHE looks fantastic and SHE said I looked like a fitness model.  Really, her comment trumped all others!

I think I have a lot of room for work, but I’ll take the compliment. Frankly, this ego boost came at a great time, and also serves to motivate me to keep on keepin’ on!  Read what she has to say here!  Thanks, Natalie, for your inspiration!

http://fitnessnatalie.tumblr.com/post/62909766075/witness-the-fitness-feature-rhonda-fuselier

I guess in this life, you never know who is watching, who takes notice, or who is inspired because of you!  I hope I can get my already giant head through the door now!

Rhonda

All-Night Diner

Thursday 9/26/13

All-Night Diner

It’s one of those nights.  Good ol’ Diabetes is whipping out his famous torture tactic…sleep deprivation.  In the great words of DH, Sleep Deprivation is Diabetes’ Water-boarding.

I woke up at 0600 on Tuesday morning.  After getting the kids off to school, going to the gym, and running errands, I took about a 2.5 hour nap in preparation for my 12-hour night shift.  With joy, I spent 12 hours caring for other people’s babies.

I arrived back home about 0730 on Wednesday morning.  After tending to the dogs and throwing a roast in the crock pot, I slept about 4 hours.  Ordinarily, I’ll sleep a bit more than that after working, but Wednesday was special.  You see, the schools have these great random days where they release students early.  I call them “Parental Inconvenience Days”; they call them Teacher In-service Days.  Whatever.  I chose to make the best of it.  I took the boys to see Planes, and since Daddy was home, I snuck in a quick pedicure before dinner.  My roast was fabulous by the way, which is precisely why my kids didn’t want to eat it.

My plan was to hit the hay about 10pm after I knew the boys’ blood sugars were ok.  That’s where my thinking became flawed.  Diabetes latched onto my plans and decided to sabotage. We did our typical 7:30 pm check.  Asa was 48, Aiden 133.  I gave Asa 24g of peanut butter crackers.  We rechecked at 8:20, just prior to 8:30 bedtime.  Asa had catapulted up to a whoppin’ 61! 

Typically, the kitchen is closed after dinner, especially after I’ve cleaned.  Not tonight. What would you like from the Diner?  Juice Box for 15g.  Since Daddy was gone taking the big boys to a dumb scary movie, I decided to read.  Asa is my “slow riser” so I planned to check again in an hour or so. 

While reading an interesting book about a killer night shift nurse (oh, the irony), I started feeling pretty sleepy!  I decided to doze for about 30 minutes until the man got home and we could have our nightly “adult time” (Kids in bed, adults can watch TV and converse.  It’s a neat concept).  I guess Diabetes was lurking in the corner, because no sooner than my eyes started to close than Aiden came down stairs at 9:10 pm stating he “felt low”.  He should’ve been asleep 30 minutes ago. Of course, he was 51.  This waitress re-opened the diner and served up 15g of Chocolate Milk.

The man got home about 9:45.  After verbal descriptions and bodily demonstrations of how the movie scared Kyle, I sent him to recheck the boys.  They were low normal.  81 and 100. We decided to go ahead and watch TV for an hour despite my overwhelming fatigue.  Partly, it was because I savor my time with him, and partly, because I know it would do me no good to try to go to sleep with sugars that low.  I’d lay there and think about it instead.  Even when Daddy has it all under control, I have to know and can’t rest.

 

After an hour or so of TV, I crept upstairs with my spelunker lamp on my head.  My knees creaked with each and every step…all 16 of them.  Sugars were at a lovely 48 and 69. Back downstairs.  I thought the kitchen was closed for the night, but I had to open the diner…again…for these special circumstances.  Repeat the same 16 stairs with the same loud knees to deliver 15g of Chocolate Milk each.  Tired. Still tired.  Still have to wait to make sure sugars are good enough to sleep through the night.  Can I please catch a wink…or a breath, Diabetes?  I’ll tell you whatever it is you’re wanting to hear!

We watched one more show.  Recheck at midnight.  102 and 104.  I decided to retire….finally…at that point.  I set the alarm for 2:30 am so I could assure they weren’t tanking just before the “dawn phenomenon”.  Well, 102 and 104 after lows just isn’t quite comfy enough for my good taste.  So, I lie awake.  I think of this blog. Under the covers.  Out of the covers.  Change positions.  Watch the clock.  Finally, I just get up.  May as well since I just can’t sleep, despite overwhelming fatigue.  I can’t sleep unless I know my babies are safe. (The man is sleeping soundly knowing I have this all under control; he has to work in the morning while I have the option of sleeping if need be.  When I work, he has to do this with no backup.  He rocks like that!).

At 0100, I listen to my knees pop and creak up 16 steps again. This time, I sneak a prick on two little toes since they were sticking out; they don’t like it, but they never know unless I tell them.  It gives their over-used fingers one small break. 86 and 107.  One stable, one declining.  Back down to the diner to serve a bit more juice.  Creak, creak, creak, creak….

(Really, I should have fabulous thighs for all of this home Stairmaster exercise I’m getting, but nope.)

Now, I’m wondering what I did to piss Diabetes off.  Did I bad-mouth your mother? Did I flirt with your wife?  Did I not pay enough attention to you?  (I disagree as we had to do two site changes only to have a PDM error 2 hours later which necessitated a call to Omnipod and another site change.  I mean, who cares, insulin is cheap, right?)  I didn’t lose my temper today (despite the PDM error).  I did everything I was supposed to do.  But, Diabetes doesn’t care.  He heard I was tired and needed sleep.  He’s just contrary like that.

So, the house is sound asleep, and I am awake to make sure my baby boys will wake up in the morning.  Worst case scenario, I’m up all night, then I sleep while they’re at school tomorrow.  Then, I hope that tomorrow’s substitute nurse doesn’t need to call me, yet, I hope she does call me if she has any questions about my boys’ care. 

This is a perfect night where a Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM) would be a great tool so I could rest with the comfort of being alerted for plummeting sugars.  But, I can’t bear the thought of jabbing my sons with any more sharp instruments.  I can’t fathom the idea of them having to wear ANOTHER device on their growing bodies.  And, I don’t think their sensitive skin would tolerate any more adhesive than it already is forced to cope with.

Having to run this all-night diner is a prime example of why I’ve had to give up other things.  Nothing is more important than my kids, so something had to give.  My gym plans fall when sleep takes precedent. My house isn’t as clean as I’d like it because I’m simply worn out some days. My dogs need to go to the groomer. I need a haircut.  I can’t apply for a job that fits my post-graduate education because I have to stay home and be a pancreas, because nobody knows our boys or serves as a pancreas better for our boys than we do.  I’m their Mommy first.  Being a pancreas (and waitress) is exhausting.

It’s 1:30 now.  I’ll listen to 32 more knee creaks as I recheck Mr. 86.  Then, I’ll try to sleep until 0545.  If not, I’m up.  I’m up until because that’s what Mommies and pancreases do.

And think about it.  Really.  Seven broken hours of sleep in the last 48 hours is enough, right?

Rhonda

www2.jdrf.org/goto/FuseA2Team

Random

Maybe a little Random

9/24/13

It’s been almost a month since I’ve blogged.  It’s not for any shortage of ideas, but more because life gets in the way.  Kids started school. Getting insulin levels adjusted for school routine. Boy turned 16. Endocrinology appointments. Pediatric appointments. Football practice and games.  Drivers’ Ed. Working. And, I’ve been focusing a lot of energy on fundraising for our 2013 JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes Team.  On occasion, I take the chance to sleep.

It’s been 18 months now since Diabetes plopped his big fat butt in our lives uninvited. As I sit and think, I list the things that Diabetes has taught me in the past 18 months.

1.       I’ve learned not to brag.  As soon as I gloat, feel proud, or brag, Diabetes kicks back and reminds me who is boss.

2.       I’ve learned to be patient.  Yes, I’ve broken down in tears due to disappointment.  I’ve cried due to extreme fatigue and frustration. I’ve been downright pissed about having to buy stupid stuff that I’d never buy ordinarily.  Now, I try to just shake my head at the stupidity of this disease because getting upset and angry doesn’t change anything or take it away.

3.       I’ve learned to take nothing for granted.  Most notably, the lives of these two precious little boys. In another day and time, they’d be dead.  That’s a harsh and humbling thought.  Even when they’re driving me nuts, I’m so glad they’re alive and with their Mommy and Daddy. Too many parents can’t say the same thing.

4.       I’ve learned to think about one problem from multiple angles.  I’ve already done this in my nursing career, but you don’t realize how many different reasons for a crazy glucose level there could be.  Once you think you pinpoint the problem, it’s easier to correct.  Did I count the carbs accurately?  Was he active? What does his insulin pump look like?  Is he getting too much basal insulin?  Too much bolus insulin? Is he getting sick? Did he have a lot of fat or protein?  Not enough protein? Does this site absorb better?  Is the insulin good/bad?  Was I holding my mouth right?  Any of these can impact a blood sugar level.  Sometimes, nothing makes sense. 

5.       I’ll never stop learning, being surprised, or being baffled.

6.       My boys are WAY smarter than even I imagined, and they get it. I explain on their level (and maybe even above their level), and they go with it and seem to understand.

7.       I’ve learned to approach people with heart to ask an uncomfortable question…asking for money.  Frankly, I’m independent and stubborn to the point of it being a fault, and I’d rather chew nails than ask someone for money.  But, I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta do.

As I mentioned, I’ve been spending a lot of time and energy fundraising for our Walk Team.  If I could just write a check myself, I’d do it, and give JDRF all the money they need to find a cure for my boys.  If the amount of tears I have cried (and other D-parents) could cure this disease, not only would my boys be cured but all other Type One Diabetics would, too!  If sheer willpower was strong enough to make those beta cells work again, T1D would be eradicated.   Unfortunately, that’s not enough.

When my boys were diagnosed in 2012, I literally felt like my heart was ripped open and the breath was kicked out of me.  It was humbling to know that I could not do my #1 Mommy job…fix the problem.  Once I caught my breath, I decided to do what I COULD do, which is help those who CAN fix this problem.  So, I’m working hard on thinking outside the box.  I’m asking a lot of people in a lot of different ways to donate to help JDRF find better treatments and a cure.  I’m finding ways that people “get something” back for their donations.  I’m hoping to have a hugely successful team and raise lots of money for JDRF.  Besides provide the best care I can for my boys, it’s all I can do to fix the problem.

So, if my perpetual asking, reminding, or discussing the topic is wearing on you…ask yourself…What Would You Do?  How would you respond if someone told you your baby had an incurable disease, but a cure is on the horizon?  And, know that the way it wears on you is only a fraction of the amount of wear and tear this disease wreaks on my boys’ bodies and this Mommy’s heart.

So, I’ll ask again.  Support our team today! 

www2.jdrf.org/goto/FuseA2Team

Rhonda

Newbie vs. Veteran

Newbie vs. Veteran

When I graduated nursing school at the ripe old age of 22, I was the young “newbie” of the group.  I had a good education, great mentors, and worked with a cool group of ladies, so I caught on fast.  Yet, I was always still in awe of those nurses who were “old” veterans.  More than once, I remember thinking “I can’t even imagine having been a nurse for 15…20…30 years.”  (I also remember thinking one nurse who had five children was insane, but that’s another blog entirely!) It sounded so far off to me.  I still had so much to learn, so much to experience, and so much growing to do. (Go Horned Frogs!)

16 years later (don’t do the math there; that’s not nice!), I’m no longer the young one… no longer the newbie.  I’m the “old” veteran now.  Been there, seen that, have the battle wounds (and stories) to prove it.  I’m the one they come to with questions, to get that hard stick, to hear the war stories. However, I'm not naive enough to believe I know it all.  There's still more to see, experience and learn. The newbies probably look at me and can’t imagine themselves “so old”.  They’ve got so much to learn, so much to experience, and so much growing to do.

I’ve been at the Diabetes game for 18 months now.  Part of my coping is to educate myself and read about others who are in my shoes (or worse shoes).  I read two blogs regularly: Death of a Pancreas by the incredibly witty and clever Joanne (www.deathofapancreas.com) and Our Diabetic Life by Meri (www.ourdiabeticlife.com).  

When I really want to feel sorry for myself for having two sons with Type One Diabetes, I remind myself of Meri who has three…and a recently deceased young husband.  I only have to serve as two pancreases and my husband is alive, kickin’ and sexy! Diabetes sucks and life's not fair, but I digress!

Recently while reading Meri’s blog, I read her post, “15”. (http://www.ourdiabeticlife.com/2013/08/15.html)

Meri did a beautiful job showing how her oldest diabetic son (who was diagnosed in infancy) has grown and thrived 15 years with Diabetes.   He has refused to let Diabetes define him or bring him down. FIFTEEN YEARS.  Fifteen.  Fifteen years she’s dealt with this craptastic disease, had two more added to her plate, then lost her husband.  Fifteen.

As I did in nursing school, I stand in awe at this “old veteran”.  Fifteen.  We’re barely 15 MONTHS into this crap, and I can’t imagine fifteen YEARS.  It makes me realize how much I have NOT experienced.  I still have so much to learn, so much to experience, and so much growing to do.  Fortunately, like my early mentors, there is a great D-parent community out there to help me be a successful pancreas until my boys can do it on their own (or until a cure is found).  There is tons of research and information to help me make the best pancreatic decisions. And, like Meri, I hope I am instilling in my sons that Diabetes is part of them but does not define them.  They are beautiful, witty, smart, and funny.  They behave at school and make straight A’s.  I refuse to let Diabetes interfere with them having a childhood or allow it to bring them down.  Like Meri’s boys, they are thriving. Also, I'm sure, despite her veteran status, Meri knows there's still so much to learn and experience, but I know she has great war stories!

As I couldn’t imagine touting my fifteen years of experience when I was a mere 22, I now can’t imagine saying my family has been dealing with Diabetes for 15 years.  20 years.  Or, as in the case of my father-in-law….50 years.  It’s a ridiculous thought to me. And, hopefully, a cure is on the horizon and I will be able to say, “They were diagnosed 15 years ago, but they are cured now.”  In the meantime, I’ll embrace my “newbie” status again (at least I’m young at something), and learn, experience and grow.

Rhonda

Off Switch

August 22, 2013

Off Switch

I’ve noticed that those who are completely physically exhausted or below average intelligence can fall asleep as soon as their head hits the pillow.  They don’t have the energy or gumption to think too much about sleep. I really think I’m one of those (I’ll let you decide which one), but apparently I’m not.  I’m one of those who lies there for awhile going over today, thinking about tomorrow, thinking about the past, and optimally needing quiet in order to catch those elusive Zzzs.  When I wake in the middle of the night, sometimes I’m stuck awake.  This is how the other night went, and this is typical.

Asleep around 1130. Awakened by full bladder at 0345.

I don’t want to get up, but I can’t ignore it.  Better go now.  I don’t wanna move.  Get up, fatty, and go pee and check on the boys.

I use the restroom and then check on the boys.  Sugars are good.  I crawl back in bed hoping to find sweet slumber right away.  Not so much.  Someone switched the brain ON.

Oh, great blog idea.  Newbie vs. veteran.  Oh, I could say this.  Oh, I could say that.  I’m afraid to fall asleep and forget these genius ideas.  Let me keep repeating them to commit them to memory.  Wait, that’s really clever!  Say that!

What’s that noise that I can hear through my ear plugs?  Oh, just Jerry mildly snoring again.  I’ll jerk the pillow to readjust his head and airway.   Jerk.  Resumption of quiet.

STOP THINKING!  Time to count sheep.  1, 2, 3….10, 11…Wait, why is that sheep pink?

I wonder if their sugars will be ok until breakfast.  Maybe I should set the alarm to check them again.

I need to stop by the store today.  I’m running low on my sodas. Speaking of, maybe I should go to Wal-Mart and get a new plastic storage drawer for the Diabetes stuff.  That other one is broken.  Wait, maybe I should just rearrange it all, conserve some space.  Yeah, that’s a good idea.  I’ll do that. 

Crap, he’s snoring again.  Head readjusted.

Now, my mind HAS to shut up so I can fall back asleep.  The alarm is going off in 2 hours. 

Count backwards from 100 so you’re mind has only one thing to focus on.  100, 99, 98….67, 66.  OH, I wonder if Richie Sambora will be back with Bon Jovi in the fall.  I wonder if he’s tweeted about it.  I really wish they’d resolve their issues because I miss Richie.  CRAP…I was counting!  Where did I leave off.  Of course….70, 69, 68….3, 2, 1.  Well, that didn’t work.

I wonder what will happen on the next Breaking Bad.  I can’t wait.  Tread Lightly….

The closer it gets to alarm time, the harder it is to fall asleep. 

GO TO SLEEP!  Try the sheep again.  1, 2, 3…..18, 19,20…wait, WHY are the sheep jumping the fence when there’s a gate right there?  That’s just dumb.

What else can I do to raise funds for our team?  Am I bothering people with my ideas?  Oh, I can do this.  I need to buy this for the party. Oh, that would be cool, too!

Snoring again?  I wonder if he’d notice if I put my fingers in his nostrils.  Must be nice to be asleep.

What should I do to entertain the boys today?  Museum?  Park?  What do I need to pack for that?  I really should clean out their closets, but I think we’ll hit the park for a little bit. Hey, remember that time I spun the kids so fast on the merry-go-round that I made that kid puke?!  That was sad but funny, too!

Maybe I can squeeze a nap in, because if I don’t, I’ll be worthless to my husband and family by 7pm.

Hmm..it’s been almost 2 hours.  I wonder what their sugars are now.  Speaking of, I need to remember to tell the school nurse This….I really hope she’ll listen to me about pre-dosing their insulin before lunch.  I hope I don’t have to spend all week up there coaching her just to keep my boys alive!  I need her to do it right because once school starts, that’s 1/3 of their day, which is 1/3 of their A1C…and if the A1C is squirrely..they look at ME!  I freakin’ hate group work!

STOP IT.  Count again.

I start drifting off.  We are 1hr and 15 mins before the alarm goes off. 

Snap awake.  Holy, cow!  I was drifting off.  Cool.  Let’s try again.

This repeats twice more before I fall completely asleep.

The alarm rudely goes off one hour later. 

I don’t want to get up.  I need to pee.  What are their sugars?  Are they ok?

I get up, blood-shot eyes, and face the day.  I decide over the course of the day that perhaps I should place a notepad by the bed.  Then, when I wake up with a rare stroke of genius, I can jot down the ideas, and hopefully, relax my mind. 

Or, maybe when a cure for diabetes is found, my brain will develop an OFF switch!

Rhonda

Stick Shift

Stick Shift

 8/7/13

When I got my Drivers’ Learning Permit at age 15, my dad taught me to drive a “stick shift”, a manual transmission.  Several hard stops, stalled engines, and bouts of whiplash later, I got the hang of it. That’s how I learned.  Learn the hard way first, then the “easy” way is so much easier and more comfortable! However, driving an automatic is so much easier, and it’s what I prefer.  Despite learning to shift a manual transmission, I chose an automatic car.  The one brief time I had an “stick shift” car, I HATED it, and quickly reverted back to an automatic. But, being able to drive a manual transmission vehicle is a skill I cherish and one that has served me well in this life.  Frankly, driving a stick shift is practically impossible with kids is tow as I typically have one hand on the wheel, and the other hand adjusting the radio, handling trash, air-drumming to Bon Jovi, or refereeing a fight, but I digress.  I will always choose an automatic transmission.

When my boys were born, their pancreases were automatic.  Carbohydrates in, insulin out.  Much like driving that automatic transmission vehicle, there was little thought involved in the process.  We aimed to put healthy stuff in, good insulin out. Their “engines” adjusted to all extrinsic factors that impact processing carbohydrates.  Activity, diet, age, growth, heat, etc.  At age 7, however, their automatic “transmissions” broke, and we had to revert to manual.  My dad may have taught me to operate a manual transmission, but nobody taught me how to be a manual pancreas.  And, much like learning to drive that stick shift, there have been some bumps, hard stops, and bouts of whiplash in learning to be a manual pancreas…times two.  The best mechanic can’t overhaul these transmissions!

Now I press the clutch (calculate insulin), and the amount I have to press varies over the course of the day and increases over time.  It’s up to me to figure out how much and when an adjustment is needed. Then, I add the gas (carbohydrates, protein & fat).  Too much makes their engine rev to a dangerous level (hyperglycemia), and too little makes them stall out (hypoglycemia).  When the combo of gas and clutch is just right, we can switch gears and move about our day!  As with any engine, other factors can impact how that car drives.  Heat, type of gas (type and quality of diet), mileage (age of the child and length of disease), changing the oil (new pumps, new sites, new insulin vials), heavy usage (exercise), and low fluids (dehydration).  Despite having the right gas and clutch combo, any of these can cause the engine to rev or stall.  My job is to figure out which one is the culprit. 

I’ve just completed two “first years” of diabetes.  Being a nurse, I had a basic foundational knowledge of Type One Diabetes, but that was it.  Being a healthcare provider did not prepare me for the daily ins and outs of being a pancreas to two little growing active boys.  It didn’t prepare me for the crippling worry that accompanies this disease.  It didn’t prepare me for the sleep deprivation, which is Diabetes’ parental torture tactic.  Nursing school didn’t prepare me for the ignorant remarks that well-meaning others say.  Being a nurse didn’t prevent my mommy heart from breaking in two when I heard the words, “He has Diabetes”….twice. 

And, it didn’t prepare me to forever be on the stick shift.

Now, I am stuck on this “stick shift”.  I stick.  I stick fingers.  I stick toes.  I stick tummies, arms, and legs.  I stick pumps on.  I stick in the morning, afternoon, evening, and middle of the night.  I stick in daylight and dark. I stick awake and half-asleep.  I stick.  And, until a cure is found, I’ll be stuck on the stick shift, manually shifting their transmissions, waiting, hoping, and praying that someday, they can go back to automatic!  I’ve learned and semi-mastered the hard manual way; can we go back to the easy automatic way now?  Please?

Help us support JDRF in finding a cure today!

www2.jdrf.org/goto/FuseA2Team

Rhonda

Second First Diaversary, August 3

Second First Diaversary, August 3

In February of 2012, my youngest twin son, Aiden, was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes.  Besides stabilizing and caring for him, our next immediate concern was for his identical twin brother, Asa.  If they’re genetically the same person, isn’t he prone to develop this disease?  We were given some low statistics for Asa to also develop T1D. Upon further research, I learned he had a 10% chance of developing T1D within the first year of Aiden’s diagnosis and a 50% chance of developing it over the course of his lifetime.  We crossed our fingers.

(See Aiden's First Diaversary Blog : http://twotoosweet.blogspot.com/2013/02/aidens-one-year-diaversary.html)

From the time Aiden was diagnosed, we periodically checked his brothers’ blood sugars at random times. Asa ALWAYS resisted, moaned, groaned, whined.  He definitely was not the "tough" twin, way more tender! We’d tease him sometimes and pretend we thought he was Aiden when it was shot time!  He quickly confirmed his identity!  “I’m not Aiden, I’m Asa!  I don’t have Diabetes!”

So, on Friday August 3, 2012, I found it quite odd that Asa willingly wanted to check his sugar when we were checking Aiden for a suspected “low”.  He’d NEVER voluntarily held his hand out to be checked before.

After being knocked to my knees after Aiden’s diagnosis, I felt like my damaged heart was mending and my wobbly legs were ready to stand up again.  When his blood sugar read 200+ two hours after his lunch, I felt like the rug was pulled out from under me again!  That wound in my heart was reopened, and I was back on my knees again!

Since it was a Friday, we followed him over the weekend.  Besides the morning glucose level, every reading was over 200.  To that point, Asa had failed to show any other symptoms like Aiden had.  However, his weight was down slightly.  I mourned all weekend long, and got him to the doctor on Monday afternoon.  Hospitalized Monday night.  Home Tuesday night to adjust to another new normal.  Double the work, quadruple the worry.  So much for that 10% chance!  We caught him incredibly early.  If not for that random check, he could have been so much sicker!

Since Asa had watched Aiden for the previous 5 months, he took it all in stride.  He knew what to expect, and knew those shots weren’t too bad (could be better, could be worse).  Through this second first year, I’ve learned so much more, and have a few funny mishaps that can only be had if one is dealing with identical people with the same chronic disease. He has someone who understands him on every level, and they tackle everything together now, including Diabetes!

Asa has gained strength and resolve in this past year.  He’s progressed from being terribly tearful and frightened of his quarterly venipunctures to volunteering to go first (but Mommy still has to hold him and count it out until it’s over).  He’s learning as much as possible about his disease and how to manage it.  He worries more about Aiden, I think, than he does himself.  And, he’s still continues to grow and thrive as a little boy.  He’s a straight-A student, good school behavior, good reader, good at video games, fights with his brothers , loves his dogs, and has one of the silliest senses of humor in this house!  

(They call me…the Pizza Cutter)!

I am so glad medical research has advanced so that there are reasonable treatments for this craptastic disease, and with more research and support, hopefully a cure will come in my boys’ lifetimes!  Because… I don’t know how I could have survived losing not one, but TWO babies to this stupid disease, and I don’t know how I could live without Asa’s silly little heart!  And, I don't want to live to see the day this disease takes either one of them, even if I'm 90!

So, today, we’re going to celebrate.  We’re going to celebrate that Asa has not been re-hospitalized with complications. We’re going to celebrate that he has been so big and brave in accepting his diagnosis. We’re going to celebrate how much we’ve learned.  We’re going to celebrate that it’s not worse (although it could be so much better).  We’re going to celebrate that we live in a day and time where treatment is available and a cure is on the horizon. And, through the tears, we’re going to celebrate that my baby is still alive to live a full life! 

I think we’ll celebrate with some ice cream!

You can help us find a cure today:

www2.jdrf.org/goto/FuseA2Team

Rhonda