I'm not sure how he got in. I'm not even sure when. But the man in black entered our house 13 years ago this week.
My skin crawls thinking about how he hid here, unnoticed for so long. I can imagine his joyful snicker, and the slits in his eyes widening just enough to see the damage he was doing to my baby.
Was it pre-calculated? Was he planning his assault for months? How did he choose my son?
I'll probably never know.
All I know is he liked it here. Because he has lived in the dark recesses of our home for lo these many years, and has found a way to attack two more of my boys. Attack in a silent, devastating, life threatening kinda way.
He has done everything he can to make my boys miserable. He lies in wait...picking the most inopportune times to make my boys go weak in the knees...to turn them ashen white...to make them desperate for a snack.
He can make them thirst. Seriously, who does that? He has a sick sense of humor for sure.
We let him wreak havoc for years. He had control...he was sneaky enough to take my brain and swell it up to astronomical proportions.
For a while, I forgot what was important.
For a while, all I could think about was the man in the shadows. My distain for him. My fear that he would jump out again and attack.
My plan for revenge came slowly. It was a seed planted by the light in my children's eyes.
One day my son's blood sugar was impossibly high and I smiled and said, "It is what it is...let's just fix it."
The dark shadow of a man cringed at my indifference. I heard him jerk deep into the shadows. He didn't like that I was becoming comfortable.
That moment was exhilarating, and it became my greatest joy to make him shirk.
Over time I could feel that I had the upper hand. I had the power to make HIM tremble in his boots. I wouldn't let him scare me anymore. His scare tactics were old. I could head them off with my outlook. I could defend myself with hope.
The man still lives here, and some days he tries to jump into hearts and cause panic. But most days he just whimpers with his miserableness. Most days he is lonely.
His power is limited now. I will not cower in fear. I will not let him take the air from the breath of our life.
Today...thirteen years after his appearance...The Diabetes Invader can suck it.
We love, despite his presence.
We hope, despite his presence.
We try...we endure...we succeed...
Despite his presence.
Diabetes may have a score of three with the Schuhmacher family...but we trump his score with our hope.
And I call that a win.
In fact, this is more how I see our relationship now...