Sometimes D sneaks up on you, like a sucker punch to the solar-plexus. Everything can be going great; wonderful numbers, no food issues... everything's coming up roses as the song goes. But D is always out there, waiting to take your feet out from underneath you, lest you get a bit too cocky.
For me it happened a few days ago. I tookElise to attend a birthday party for a little friend of hers, a first for her. D wasn't really on my mind, I thought we'd go, Elise would play, have some fun, and we'd go home.
But it wasn't like that at all. Oh, it was at first, but I had forgotten about the food. Because of the timing of the party, Elise wouldn't be eating. I was going to feed her lunch when we got home after the party. But I didn't take into account that I had to watch all the other kids scarf down their pizza, while Elise wandered around eating string cheese.
It killed me, I felt like my heart was being Texas Two-Stepped on. Elise didn't care, she was quite content with her cheese. But what kept reverberating in my brain was, "this is how it's going to be for her, always the outsider. Always different." I hate that I think that, and I know I need to stop thinking of her that way.
I thought maybe she could have some strawberries from the fruit salad, so I checked her BG. She was almost at 400 and that's when the tears started to well up in my eyes. I took Elise and went around the corner, so nobody could see me. I distracted Elise by showing her the fish tank and had myself a good cry for about 5 minutes. I don't know who I was crying more for, me or her.
I returned to the party in time for the cake to be brought out. All the kids cheered when they saw it, and Elise started clapping too. Not because she understood what was going on, she just likes to join in the fun. I almost lost it again watching the kids dive into the sugary-goodness.
I know one day Elise will be able to take part in birthday fun, but for now because of the type of insulin she's on, and because she's so little, it doesn't fit into her food plan. Every time I run into one of these situations, it's like she's been diagnosed all over again. Pain that I had forgotten about rips into my heart and tears threaten to fall seemingly every second.
But, in the end, you do go on. The wound scabs over, and you almost forget about it until the next time D opens it up. It is getting a little easier, I don't cry as often or for as long. And that's what I need to remember... bit by bit, I'm getting there.
11 hours ago