Thursday 25 February 2010

Somewhere between darkness and light.

A sleeping child.
It is such a universal image of peace and the time for parents to relax.
Isn't it?

Now look at it from the point of view of the parent of a child with Type 1.
What's their breathing like? Shallow? Are they heading for a crash and coma?
Are they low? Too low?
Is the bed flooded and they are high? Too high?
Can I have a glass of wine or might I need to drive to the hospital later?

I don't wish to be negative and maudlin but life will never be the same.
It goes on and it is good for absolutely the most part, but it cannot be compared to that of the family of a child without this condition.
Friends have been asking me this month whether I am avoiding them.
Not consciously, has been my reply.

We have had two hypos late at night this week and I am not resting easy.
I'm tired and emotional and close to tears.
And yet this week has held more moments of pure joy at the humour and fun oozing out of my son than of sadness.
We have a beautiful child that to all outsiders is developing just wonderfully.
He is funny and crazy and imaginative and lively and our best friend.
He wakes me in the morning wanting to be a digger and for me to be the crane.
He does fake falling over in full drama-queen-stylie.
It makes me roar with laughter.
This evening at dinner he couldn't sit still but instead rolled around the dining room floor play fighting with the two brooms we keep by the door.
I laughed so much I think some of my food came out of my nose!
The boy is barking mad, methinks.

And yet, there is a precariousness to it all that I still can't get to grips with.
When you have a child you are much more aware of this and when your child has Type 1 diabetes that awareness is multiplied.

I would not wish this on anyone.

BUT life is good.

I am happy.
I am coping.
And coping well.
The truth of it all lies somewhere in the middle of the sadness and the joy.
And surely this is true for all of us?

I ask any of my wonderful friends to bear this in mind when they wonder why I haven't called.

I am a pancreas and we don't rest.
Or indeed get to the phone often.


  1. 2nd try - I have the toughest time commenting here.

    It's parents like you who remind me to stop whining about my own health.
    Hang in there.
    And, I'd give anything for his eyelashes!

  2. A big hug from one weary 'pancreas' to another!

  3. A bonny picture.

    If he is crazy then does he take after his Dad?

    Keep your chin up. It looks like you're doing a fine job.

    kind regards.....Al.