Dex Share meant that—if our entire family was home and our son went high or low—two cell phones and the Dex receiver would sound their alarms, sparking red alerts from every room. If that was contributing to my anxiety, what was it doing to my seven-year-old son?
I came across a bottle of glucose control solution. It was expired, of course. When we were still in the hospital just after my son’s diagnosis, our diabetes educator had taught us how to use the solution to ensure the accuracy of a new batch of strips. We used it once or twice, and honestly, that’s the last time we used the stuff.
My son was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes almost three years ago, when he was four. He started kindergarten as the only diabetic in a relatively small class of kids in a very small public school in a rural part of New York. And then, just as the school year ended, one of his classmates was diagnosed with type 1.
There were no meters, you didn’t know what your sugar was. The only way to know for sure was to test your urine, which was three hours behind. So I paid attention to the signs, I could tell when I was high or low. I remember that I’d eat something—a candy bar or a pint of ice cream—and I would run three or four miles.
My son was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes two Septembers ago. Our story’s probably a lot like other ones you hear: there was a frantic trip to a hospital, a period of shock—He has what?—followed by the anger, then mourning that comes with realizing your child is completely dependent on a drug for survival and will forever cope with a condition that requires round-the-clock maintenance—maintenance that comes with never-ending ups and downs.
My husband and I work hard to manage our son’s condition so he feels good, learns the ropes and has a long, healthy, happy life. But also so diabetes isn’t the focus of his world—there’s plenty more for a first-grader to think about. Still, that weekend a nasty cold, a clog in his insulin pump, and other factors led to a series of high blood sugars and, consequently, vomiting and dehydration. We were shades away from hospitalization.