This BG went to 11

First let me clarify... I am not talking about Elise's BG. This post is about a dream I had the other night.

In this dream, I went into a store to buy cotton candy. As I was sitting on a sofa, waiting for my order, I decided to check my blood sugar so I could bolus myself for my yummy treat. Yup, in this dream I had diabetes.

Then came the weird part, an 11 popped up on the meter and all of a sudden I felt like I was dying. My field of vision narrowed until it was like I was looking through a pinhole. The woman brought me my cotton candy and placed it in on the table in front of me. I knew I needed it, but I felt like my arms were made of lead, and I couldn't even move.

I tried to talk, but nothing that come out of my mouth made any sense. I cannot even articulate how awful I felt. I awoke with a start; clammy and shaking all over. All I could think was, "is this how bad it feels for Elise?"

I don't know how, or why, but I feel like I actually "experienced" a low. I don't think my blood sugar actually went low, but I felt every symptom. Even recounting it days later is giving me the shakes, it was that awful.

I've had a dream like this once before, but this time it was so much stronger. But like the other dream, I know this one will also fade and become a ghost-like memory.

It makes me wish even more for a cure. So our kids won't ever have to feel this way again and their lows could also fade into nothing but ghostly vespers.

A Cure or a "Cure"?

I have Grave's Disease (dx'd at 14, given Radioiodine therapy x2, now on synthroid). I take a pill everyday to make sure I have the proper amount of thyroid hormone coursing through my body. No big deal. But I'm not cured. If I didn't take this pill, I would become sick and eventually die.

I have a dear friend who has Cystic Fibrosis. About 10 years ago, she had a double lung transplant. But she is not cured. She has to take medication so her body doesn't reject the transplant. Pills to aid with digestion. She just recently developed Cystic Fibrosis Related Diabetes. Yes, the transplant saved her life. But she is not cured.

Insulin is not a cure. A transplant is not a cure. The artificial pancreas will not be a cure. That moss that grows on a tree in the middle of the rain forest in Brazil is not a cure. For me, a cure is when my daughter can live totally unfettered by diabetes. That means no shots, no pills, no finger pokes, no carb counting.

Do I think there will be a cure in Elise's lifetime? It hurts my heart to say it, but no... I don't. I would love to be proven wrong, though.

So for now, I will put my hope in technology that can help Elise live a long and healthy life. I am praying that a "cure" (or cure) will come soon.

At a loss of words, for once

I don't even know what to say.

Though I feel like I should say something.

Maybe it's because since I heard the news that we had lost another member (and a child at that) of the diabetes community to Dead in Bed Syndrome I have tried my absolute hardest not to think about it.

But it's there anyway.

It's there in the way that tears start to fall any time I allow my mind to go there.

It's there in the way I find myself so freaking mad that diabetes is my daughter's reality.

It's there every single time I haul my tired ass out of bed to make sure Elise's is still breathing.

It's there when I pray for a cure.

It's there when I hug her for about the hundredth time today.

It's there when I don't want to let her go. Ever.

I am so totally heart broken for the family that lost their 13 year daughter to this insidious disease. I cannot imagine the pain. In fact, I'm expending a whole lot of energy trying not to.

Instead, I will add my voice to the rallying cry for a cure.

Let it come soon.

To bank or not to bank?

Fred and I have been looking into banking Mattias's cord blood in the event that it could one day be used to help Elise. We're running out of time to make the decision, and we're still very much on the fence about it.

Let's face it... it's not cheap. Over $2000 initially, then a fee of $125 per year after that. But, I would HATE to put a price on a possible cure for Elise. Could you imagine the regret?

We've talked and talked about it. Asked Elise's pedi about it. We plan on talking to Elise's endo this week too, but I'm wondering what all my D-peeps think about it.

Have you done it? Looked into it? Have any thoughts about it? Opinions? I'm looking for some fresh input before we decide yay or nay.

Out, out damn spot

There's a spot of blood on the cover of the boppy I used when I nursed Elise. It's small. And it's round. Faded by time. Nonetheless, still there.

I don't know how it came to be there. Probably a remnant from an after-nursing BG test. Sometimes at night, when I would nurse her before bed, she would fall asleep on that boppy.

And we would do one last test, before we carefully carried her to her crib to gently lay her down for the night. Perhaps in one careless moment, we didn't wipe her tiny finger well enough.

I've tried to get it out, but it remains. A reminder of just how little Elise was when she was diagnosed. Only 12 months old.

I pulled out the boppy the other day, one of the many things to clean and get ready for the new baby. And I saw the spot. It took my breath away.

Like Lady Macbeth, I am haunted by the blood. Only the blood I see is real. And it's not going away. Just like my daughter's diabetes, that spot is here to stay.

Out, out damn spot.

Maybe one day.

One mother's dream

Sunday - Dream a little Dream (life after a cure)

Elise about 1 week before dx

This one was tough for me... to imagine my daughter's life without diabetes, when she has lived longer with it, than without? I can't even remember what life was like before; no shots, no BG checks, no carb counting, no sleepless nights... It's like trying to remember the vapors of your dreams after you have woken up.

Perhaps it's also because I don't let myself think about it. As much as I would like to believe a cure is coming, I'm afraid of what it might do to my heart if five years down the road, things are pretty much as they are now. I remain an eternal realist (or pessimist, as my husband would call me), because an optimist is never pleasantly surprised.

Because I don't want to end such a fun week on a down note, I'll use what little imagination I have left (that watching TV hasn't killed off), and try.

I suppose the first thing I would do is break down and cry. Just the mere thought of it brings tears to my eyes. I would hold Elise in my arms and tell her the good news while weeping tears of absolute joy for her. I would thank God for answering the prayers of a mourning mother. And then I would sleep for about 3 days straight.

And then? Well, then I would throw Elise THE biggest party you've ever seen.

If you've never read Elise's diagnosis story, then you need to know that we received the phone call to take Elise to the hospital in the middle of her party for her first birthday. Yes, she was only one and had no idea what was going on, but I've always felt cheated by that experience.

Now that Elise is older, she LOVES parties, and she LOVES her friends. And it would be such a great way to celebrate.

And since it's MY imagination, and money is no object, I would make it so all my wonderful D-family could be there to par-tay with us. Because who better to share this with than the people who have walked this same difficult road? Ohmygosh, could you imagine the fun we would have?

And of course, we would top everything off with a ceremonial burning of the diabetes supplies.

Is insulin flammable, I wonder?