Living with Diabetes

Skeeter now is indistinguishable from her other 13 year old peers.  Only a few differences mark her from her friends.  She can’t stay up as late at sleepovers as she would like, because she has to get up no later than 9:00 to check her blood sugar level.  She also has to do a finger stick during half-time of her soccer games.

She can’t pig out on pizza and has to stay away from non-diet soft drinks (I’m not sure either of those things are bad).

She has to be a little more deliberate with her meal choices and MUST eat a snack at appropriate times during the day.

Sometimes we get on to her and she blames "The Diabetes" (for inappropriate things like "Mom, my room is a mess because I have diabetes", etc).  This is mostly done in jest.

But she’s adjusted far better than her mom and I ever dreamed she would.

In the Hospital

What followed after the diagnosis was a three day hospital stay. When most people are diagnosed with diabetes, they are in pretty tough shape.   Since the early symptoms of high blood glucose levels are similar to the flu, most don't go to the doctor until they have run very high glucose levels for several days.   They are often very sick by this time.  Since Kadie and Skeeter went to the doctor’s office so quickly, Skeeter was in comparatively  good shape.

During the three days in the hospital, Kadie and I went through a detailed educational experience. We spent our time with nurses, pediatric endocrinologists, and registered dietitians.  We learned about the various kinds of insulin, the safe places for injections, carbohydrates, and the "honeymoon period" (during which the pancreas continues to produce some small degree of insulin) . We received a lot of reading material and free samples of syringes, glucose monitors and strips.

During this time in the hospital we also got a sense of what Skeeter is made of. The first day she was in the hospital, they gave her insulin through the intravenous drip. But the second day they showed her how to give herself injections. The nurse began by patiently giving step by step instructions.   She was going to explain each step one at a time.  She showed us how to prepare the syringe, and then wiped her leg with the alcohol wipe.  But as the nurse prepared to giver Skeeter her next instruction, Skeeter plunged the syringe into her thigh without a moment’s hesitation.   (While I cringed).

And she's done it three times a day ever since.

Receiving the News

It had been a hectic day.  Kadie had taken Squealer to the doctors for his normal checkup earlier that morning, but the doc’s office was swamped with walk-ins.  So she and Squealer had to wait for several hours to be seen.  After his appointment, Kadie dropped him off at school and got a call that Skeeter was in the nurse’s office at her school and wasn’t feeling well at all.

Kadie picked her up and was taking her home when Skeeter said that for the last several days she had experienced a burning when she urinated.  As a nurse, as well as a parental veteran of two daughters, Kadie immediately diagnosed a urinary tract infection.  Since she didn’t want to spend several more hours in the doctor’s waiting room, she called the office, shared Skeeter’s symptoms, and asked for them to phone in a prescription to the pharmacist.

The doctor’s nurse responded that in these circumstances the Dr. prefers to see the kids in person before calling in a prescription.  So grumbling the lengthy drive back to the doctor’s office, Kadie reluctantly took Skeeter to see him.

After another lengthy wait in his office, they checked Skeeter’s vitals and took a urine sample as a routine part of her visit.  A few minutes later her doctor came returned with a somber expression.  In a voice that Kadie said she will never forget he said “Skeeter’s Glucose levels are way too high.  I’m afraid that she has diabetes. You need to immediately take her to the emergency room at the regional hospital.” 

In a state of shock, Kadie began crying as she asked: “Can we go home and pack some clothes?”

The doctor replied “No, this situation is very serious.  You need to go straight there.”

What I Learned

I knew very little about diabetes. I knew that there are three different kinds, Type 1 (formerly Juvenile Diabetes), Type 2 (formerly Adult Onset Diabetes), and Gestational. I also knew that some kinds of diabetes are insulin dependent, and some kinds can be regulated with diet and exercise.

But recently I’ve learned a few things about Type 1 diabetes. It affects .04% of the population, or about 700,000 people in the US. I’ve learned that it is an auto-immune disease in which the body’s protective immune system is turned inward and begins to attack the pancreas, rendering it incapable of producing insulin. No one knows why the auto-immune system does this.

I learned that insulin is necessary for allowing the cells of the body to convert glucose into energy. Glucose is the food of the cells and that leads to a great irony: without insulin, glucose levels in the body simply build, and build, and build while the cells starve--surrounded by food! These increased glucose levels eventually harm the eyes, the nerves in the extremities, and the renal system. Left untreated, diabetes can result in blindness, loss of limbs, and kidney failure. Until insulin was isolated and purified in the early 20^th century, a diagnosis of diabetes was a death sentence: a 100% mortality rate.

I’ve learned that Type-1 diabetics are insulin dependent for the rest of their lives. They do not outgrow it. They do not control it by exercise or by eating a particular diet. If they do not take insulin daily, they will die.

A few months ago , I learned something else about Type-1 diabetes.

I learned that my 12 year old daughter Skeeter has it.

...Summer Daze...

I’ve been watching a lot of baseball lately, due no doubt to the impressive pitching performance of the Rangers this season. Skeeter has been watching a lot with me and learning a bit about the game. And it can be a confusing game. Recently, after a Ranger scored from third, she asked “Was that a Death Run?” I was stunned for a few seconds before remembering a previous conversation. “No, it’s called a suicide squeeze.”

We took a five day vacation to San Antonio and traveled with two other couples. We had much fun, but I was outvoted on two significant issues. We didn’t have a single Mexican meal there and we didn’t go see the Alamo. It reminded me again why we normally vacation alone.

I signed up for extra classes this summer. The result was that I taught classes all summer and thus reduced my days off to about two weeks over the summer break. Part of the reason I got into teaching was to get summers off. Of course that was before kids’ college funds.

Scooter has had a time consuming job this summer and it’s wearing on her. She baby sat one of Squealer’s friends for eight hours every day all summer long and is worn out from chasing them all around. I’m secretly (and not so secretly) amused every time the Girl or Squealer says to her “I’m bored.”

Pecan Grove continues with Transition Team meetings on a weekly basis. It’s going well, I think, but slowly. Many conversations, many different points of view. We continue to pray for breakthroughs in some of these unresolved issues.

FPU is going well at Pecan Grove. Recently one guy (who’s in financial difficulty) roared out of the church parking lot in his 08 fire engine red Mustang. One of the coordinators for the class said in his slow southern drawl. “Dave’ll tell him to sell the car.” Indeed.

A triple wammy next week as Scooter starts High School, Skeeter Middle School, and Squealer begins the first grade. I took Scooter to her high school orientation (at my own alma mater) this week and found the rising nostalgia a bit overwhelming. I can’t believe my daughter is entering her freshman year of high school.

Facebook has taken over more of my life and crowding out a bit of blog time. Perhaps that will change as we start school on the 24th. We’ll see.

Deep Waters Ahead

Over the last few weeks, I’ve shared some special moments with my kids. With the small perspective that being a parent for 13 years provides, I know that these moments are fleeting. The brevity of childhood hit me years ago, the first afternoon I arrived home from work and Scooter didn’t meet me at the door with a shrieking “Daddy’s Home!!!!”

What I’ve long known in the abstract I’ve now witnessed in the concrete: kids grow up. Even worse, my kids grow up. So over the course of the last month, I’ve had three experiences that I know won’t last much longer. I feel like I’m walking from the shallow end of my kid’s childhood to the deep end of the pool where teen years and adulthood lie in wait. My toes can still touch the bottom, but not for much longer.

We’ve recently wrapped up soccer for the second season and the kids all loved it. But unlike last year, Squealer seemed to finally get the point of the game this year. He scored his first goal in his first game. A writhing, amazing shot as he fell down under a heap of defenders. As he scored the goal, simultaneously falling face first to the ground, he laid on his stomach with one fist raised victoriously in the air. His eyes met mine and he scrambled up and sprinted toward me on the sideline and gave me an enormous hug. Thus it started a trend. Whenever he scored a goal this season (a not uncommon occurrence, given his mother’s athletic abilities) he sprinted toward the sidelines and hugged me. It made me hope for high scoring games.

Skeeter recently, out of the blue, asked me a question I hadn’t heard in years “Daddy, can you rock me tonight?” And so, for the first time in a good two or three years, she crawled up into my lap (much smaller now than it used to be) and we rocked, although her feet were practically touching the ground. He face was in the crook of my arm as we sang and talked and pretty soon I felt moisture on my arm. Realizing she was crying, I asked her what was wrong. She said “I don’t want to go away to college. I want to stay here with you and Mom.” So of course, not only was my arm wet, but soon her hair as well. I don’t know how many more times I’ll get to rock her, but such moments too are disappearing. And of course, when the day comes for her to leave for college, I’ll be the one wishing she could stay while she’ll be the one looking forward to new adventures.

Scooter is the biggest and the oldest, neither hugging Dad in public nor rocking with him in private. But she still gets happy when I’m able to stop by her school for lunch. She likes it when I sit with her and her friends at the lunch table and they explain to me again all of the intricacies of early teen life. She rolls her eyes at my corny jokes and turns beet red in front of her friends when I display my attempts at cool lingo “Between us, let’s keep it on the ‘LD” or “That new group is really on the chain!” But her face lights up whenever I get the chance to come by and she gives me a quick peck on the cheek goodbye when her friends are safely around the corner.

But I can see changes coming. Squealer will one day celebrate goals with high fives instead of hugs and Skeeter will ask me for gas money instead of time in the rocking chair. Scooter will beg me to take her off campus to lunch instead of eating around her friends. But I’ll treasure these moments and I’ll miss them at the same time.

My feet can still touch the bottom, but not for much longer.

To the Four Winds...

Life has (yet again) accelerated around our household. For the first time in thirteen years, each of our kids is in school. Scooter occupies the Alpha position in middle school as an eighth-grader, the queen of all she surveys. Peasant sixth graders cower in her presence. Skeeter is in the same position as a fifth grader in elementary school, at the pinnacle of the heap. At the other end of the food chain is Squealer, a small kindergartener who is still adjusting to this new (and exhilarating) world outside our household.

Having three kids at three different schools has stretched our meager planning and scheduling skills to the breaking point. Mornings begin early and race by. Scooter heads to the front yard at 6:59 am for her 7:00 bus stop. (Yes, I’m mostly over my first impression from a couple of years ago). After much prayer and anguish, we decided to let Squealer ride the bus. This concerned us, because with his diminutive size (and his giftedness in bothering people) we were concerned about him being tossed out one of the bus windows. But after an extended phone conversation with the bus driver (and the reality of his school being some distance from our home) we decided to give it a shot. He too must be at a bus stop for a 7:00 am pick up, about a mile from our house. Skeeter leaves the house at 7:30 via bike. Her school is .9 miles from our home and you must be 1 mile away to ride the bus. So despite the fact that she must cross a pretty major thoroughfare, we decided to take the plunge and let her ride. She loves the responsibility and freedom that a bike gives her.

So every morning, our three kids are scattered to the four winds. A bike, two buses and a multitude of prayers fan out across our community every morning. And we are reminded again that they are in His hands.

Exactly where they've been all along.

Partial Bovine Missiles...

Several years ago, we received a Leapfrog Fridge Magnetic Farm Animal set. This toy/learning device sticks to your refrigerator and is accompanied by several farm animals which also stick to your fridge. You put both halves of the animals in the barn and mash them and they moo, cluck, oink or whatever. Or you can switch a button and mash them and then they spell the name of the animal. Due to the incredible power of inertia (consistently the most powerful force in our household), this rural structure has remained on our refrigerator for years, even though Squealer has left toddlerhood far behind. Squealer had generally forgotten about them….until a few days ago. I was in the living room and I began to hear some pretty intense wailing coming from the kitchen.

Skeeter: “Waaah!”

I ran into the room where Skeeter wailed while Squealer looked around somewhat disinterestedly. “What happened here?”

Skeeter: “Squealer threw a cow at me! Waah!!!”

Squealer: “No I didn’t! She’s lying.”

Skeeter: Stopped crying, in shock and her little brother’s cool prevarication. “Yes you did, you hit me with that cow right there.” She pointed by the dishwasher and guiltily resting there was the purple butt end of the cow magnet.

Squealer, shaking his head insistently: “I didn’t hit you with the cow, I hit you with a part of the cow.”

I said “Squealer is that true, did you hit her with the cow—I mean part of the cow” I added when I saw him beginning to object.

“Yes sir.”

“Do we throw things?”

“No sir, but it was just a part of the cow.”

I struggled for a moment before amending my next question “Do we throw parts of cows?”

“No sir.”

“You still need to apologize to your sister.”

“Skeeter, I’m sorry I hit you in the face with a part of the cow” he gently said.

She sniffled patiently and replied “I forgive you Squealer, for hitting me in the face with a part of a cow.”

Overheard During Obama's Acceptance Speech

(The kids aren't really into politics, but because it is a memorable speech, I encouraged them to stay up and listen to Obama's acceptance speech).

Obama: "the same party that brought you two terms of George Bush and Dick Cheney will ask this country for a third. And we are here because we love this country too much to let the next four years look like the last eight. On November 4th, we must stand up and say: "Eight is enough."

Scooter: "Oooooo?! Did you hear what he said about President Bush?"

Skeeter: "Was that a slam?"

Scooter: "Uhhhh...yeah"

Skeeter: "Well, I hope the President wasn't watching."

A Few Minutes Well Spent

Last night Scooter, Skeeter and I were watching an old movie that I recorded recently. It was the first time that they had ever seen Harvey, the movie starring Jimmy Stewart and a six foot rabbit. One of the best highlights of recent memory was spending about ten minutes working with Skeeter on her Jimmy Stewart impression.

Enjoy the clip

Soccer Finale

Like a meteorite streaking across the fall sky, soccer season has now come and gone. The kids played their last games on Saturday. Squealer’s team performed exceptionally well. It’s interesting to note that some kids just seem to “get it” at an earlier age than others. I’d guess that 95% of the goals were scored by about 4% of the kids. Squealer’s team had one kid who got it and she scored 4 or 5 goals a game. The other kids scored only when the mob of kids happened to migrate into a net. Squealer scored a couple of goals throughout the season, but spent a lot of his time zoning out on both butter and dragon flies.

Strangely, right after his final game, he was stung by a bee. I tried to comfort him by explaining the impressive symmetry that the bee sting brought to the season, bookending his and Scooter’s experiences with soccer, but he didn’t find much succor in that.

Scooter’s team was beaten day in and day out throughout the season. There were three teams in her league and the other two teams just beat on her team relentlessly. They lost all their games. She had a blast though, manning (?!) the defender’s position and blasting out soccer balls whenever they came her way.

Skeeter’s team performed well. We (for I am an assistant coach on this team) played the much hated Red team for our final game. We had played them in our initial game and they pasted us 5 to 1. They then went undefeated the rest of the season. Shockingly, we also went undefeated, although we had one tie game.

In this final game we scored two quick goals and then managed to hold onto a 2-1 win over the fearsome Red team. After the game, the opposing coach told me that our two defenders (back guarding the goal) were the difference. “Every time we got back there, one of those two little girls would clear the ball out. They were the difference in the game.” Needless to say, Skeeter was one of those two. Because of our tie, the hated Red team won first place.

Final Thoughts:

1. It was worth it. Trying to watch three kids playing on three different fields at three different times was often a pain, but they all enjoyed it.

2. A church league offers just a slight reduction in the insanity level of parents. I suspect that it doesn’t happen all the time, this leagues was a good choice.

3. The cheesy pablum often offered up about team sports is true. It’s good for kids to work with other kids toward a competitive goal. The children learned a lot and I suspect we’ll be doing it again next year.

The Thrill of Victory...

Soccer Round-Up

Squealer:

Squealer’s and Scooter’s games were at the same time, so we ended up running back and forth between them. I had Squealer duty first and saw him score his first goal!!!!!! Or rather to say, that he was at the head of the scrum that migrated into the goal along with the ball (and about three of the kids).

His team was superior to their opponents only by virtue of the fact that they were a little older and thus concentrated on the game the whole time. The other team was quickly distracted and would only have three of the four kids going after the ball at any given time. Squealer ended the game in goal, although the ball spent the entire time down at the other end of the field (pitch?). I was behind him in the goal as a helicopter parent, trying to keep him interested in the game. The game ended without the other team even shooting at his goal while he was goalie. He was quite sad and lamented “I didn’t get to play.”

By far the most excitement of the game was afterwards when there were snacks. When the coach announced that there were snacks, there went up a tremendous cry and they assaulted the mother who was unfortunate enough to have drawn snack duty for game one. While he ate his snack, Squealer was bitten by an ant in an, uhhh uncomfortable and private place that necessitated a trip to the doctor’s office today (he’s fine).

Scooter:

I didn’t catch as much of her game, but she played very well as a defender during the time I watched. She cleared the ball out from her end of the field (pitch?) on numerous occasions and her team won 3 to 1. The low point of the game came right after she went in and I was distracted talking to Skeeter. When I looked back out there I saw that she was crying and clutching her thigh. I yelled at her (while the game was ongoing) and asked her what was wrong. She told me that a bee had just bitten her on her leg.

When she came off she was crying hard (it was her first bee sting). Through tears she said “Well, at least it died.(sniff, sniff)” I said “Did you kill it?” Through her tears she rolled her eyes and said “Daddy, everyone knows that a bee dies after it stings you.” Ummm..right, I certainly knew that, though entymology was not foremost in my mind with a weeping daughter.

Skeeter:

We were smoked. Destroyed utterly. Due no doubt to excessively poor coaching we were pummeled 4 to 2. Skeeter played well and aggressively. A pall was cast over the team when one of the coach’s daughters took a wicked shot to the mouth by soccer ball. It was apocalyptic as she bit her tongue and blood flowed as high as a horse's bridle profusely. The little girl is Skeeter’s best friend and Skeeter was sad for the rest of the day. (Although she is also doing better today).

All in all, I think the following video summarizes our day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nPk_IZ44DMc