Why did the insulin die in my pancreas?

Lance is watching an episode of Ben 10 Alien Force at the moment. (Thanks so much for the recommendation, Brendon!!-We’re a bit behind the times Down Under, but thanks to handy services such as EBay and credit cards, I managed to get the series for Lance as a post-pump gift.)

I had to sneak away into my room and position myself on my bed (very Carrie Bradshaw like), and release  some pent up tears. I have had a lump in my throat and a quivery voice all day, and if there is one thing in my house that stops everything in its tracks, it’s the sound of my sobs. It distresses Lance so greatly.. Even our dog will plant his front paws on me and cock his head to the side. Therefore, I go to painstaking efforts to swallow back tears and dispense of them after bedtime.

Exhaustion and stress have been big issues lately. I have also had to come to terms with the fact that Lance can now express his feelings and emotions with such clarity and honesty, which is something that I am so thankful he has the ability to do. He will talk about his future, his birthday, schoolwork, family, and on the odd occasion, he will knock me into next week with a comment about his Diabetes.

This was today’s installment.

“Mum, I think my pump is so great. But, can you understand what it feels like to have a mechanical device attached to you ALL the time? It’s does get a little annoying.”

“Oh, I can completely understand that it’s gets a bit frustrating sometimes, because it’s so new and different to your old D Life. However, I’m really glad that you think it’s great. I can’t begin to tell you the difference it’s going to make to your health, and you already know that you don’t have barely any hypos anymore…”

“Yeah, but, what I want to know is WHEN are they going to give me my cure?”

(Silence for a few agonising moments..)

“Or, is it all a big trick? Like one of those things adults tell kids to make them believe everythings ok? I don’t know if I want to be a Youth Ambassador anymore, because I think I have realised that I am going to have diabetes forever, and I don’t think we should talk about the “C” word anymore. It’s a very unfunny joke. The Cure is a big joke.”

His azure blue eyes penetrated mine, searching for answers.

Firstly, I gave him a playful punch in the arm, accompanied with a dramatic gasp for effect.

He was only able to muster up a forced half-smile.

I leaned over and hugged him tight, and said quietly into his ear, ” ‘It’s’ so close, I know ‘it’s’ there, the scientists know what to do, we just have to be patient.”

He squeezed me tightly. He then pulled his head away, wiping his eyes on his shirt.

I had to use all my might to stop myself from breaking down at this point. This was probably the first time I have seen Lance shed tears about living with Diabetes, and maybe facing his future without The Cure.

 Hmm. Tears.

 I decided to do a fingerprick, just in case this was a hypo talking.

Nope, it was the real deal. He was perched on a highly desirable 7.8mmol/L. I looked down at his tubing. The insulin was steadily travelling into his site. I wanted to tell him the how lucky he was that his pump was going to change the way his life would pan out. However, the words, “lucky” and “diabetes” didn’t seem appropriate to use in the same sentence..not at the moment anyway.

I pulled out my laptop, and googled Lance’s full name. He has over a full page devoted to his JDRF Youth Ambassador work, his unwavering devotion to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, and his fundraising achievements from the age of five.

It just didn’t cut it.

“The ads on TV, about Type 2 Diabetes, People think it’s me.. It’s true, they don’t understand. “

“WELL, that’s why we HAVE to keep creating awareness about Type 1 Diabetes, sweetheart. You are the most powerful asset to organisations like JDRF. You can tell people what it’s like to live with Type 1 Diabetes for most of your life…”

“Yes, but they forget. They pretend to understand, but they don’t. It’s really good that I don’t have to have needles anymore, but people are always going to be afraid of me.”

At that moment, my already bludgeoned heart shattered into a million pieces.

Lance wasn’t crying, he was mad. He had hot tears bleeding down his cheeks. For two seconds, I hated Scott for leaving me to deal with situations like these by myself. (These feelings quickly dissipated. However, I felt so alone, and for one of the rare times of my life, I was totally speechless.)

We managed to cheer each other up by looking at some really funny “Funniest Home Video” style You Tube. We sat on the bed with a bowl of popcorn, howling with laughter at the antics of puppies and kittens. Good clean fun without a vial of insulin or a carb counter in sight.

Later this afternoon, I almost had a very nasty accident whilst grating cheese.

“Chris (an almost-7-year-old who lives two doors down from us) reckons that people will call the police now I have my pump.”

“Huh?”

“Well, he said it looks like I have a bomb strapped to me.”

I had to turn my head momentarily as I silently mouthed a selection of expletives. I looked at the clock, and decided that inappropriate or not, it was crucial to address this matter immediately. 

The Shirt Says It All.

Chris’s Mum and Chris answered the door.

I made it short and sweet. I let Chris know that I knew about his little revelation, and his mother gasped in shock when she found out the entire story. She sent him to his room, disgust and embarrassment evident in her tone. She got down to Lance’s level and gave him a big hug. He put his arms around her, too. Chris’s Mum apologised again, and I sent Lance home to open the door. I apologised for being a dobber, and for getting her kid into trouble.

However if my child has to suffer for just being himself, then I will do anything to amend his pain.

PEOPLE WITH TYPE 1 DIABETES HAVE NO SAY IN WHETHER THEY ARE GOING TO CONTRACT THE CONDITION OR NOT. THERE IS NOTHING THEY COULD HAVE DONE TO STOP THE AUTO-IMMUNE REVOLT.

When I got home, Lance was sitting on the floor, in Lego mode. I smiled apprehensively, as I was aware that I could have caused him to feel even more humiliated by my actions.

He beamed at me.

“You go, girl.”

Phew. He didn’t think I was tragic.

“Thanks Mum. It’s great to have a Mum who isn’t scared of people.. Anyway, my pump is great. Just in secret, I do feel really cool in public, knowing that I have a $7000 pocket, and that I have a pretend organ clipped onto my pants.”

And that was that.

***Later on***- We received a knock on the door just after dinner. Chris stood on the doorstep, with a Wiggles umbrella protecting him from the rain. His Dad introduced himself, and said that Chris had decided that it would be in his best interest to get the apology over and done with. He did apologise, and quite sincerely too. I couldn’t help but smile. Lance grabbed his hand and shook it, and told him that it was “all cool.”  They smiled awkwardly at each other.  I encouraged them to go home quickly, as the rain was getting louder and heavier. Two figures scurried out of our front gate. I quickly shut the door behind me, and sighed loudly, at nothing in particular.

Note: Lance has had a permament smile on his dial for the rest of the evening.