(Shaking my fist to the universe.)
I'm failing...or something. Poor L has had his sets changed almost every other day lately. Today...I couldn't get him out of the 300's. When we got home from my in-laws tonight he reluctantly showed me the 470 that popped up on the screen...
So help me...another set change for my baby.
I asked J to fill the reservoir for me. He is happy to do it. He's GOOD at it. How he can pull that insulin out like butter, I do not know...but in less than a minute's time he had a beautiful fresh full reservoir waiting for me.
I confidently opened a new set and attached the head to the reservoir. I rewound the pump, and was about to prime the insulin through the tubing when I accidentally pulled the needle out of the set, rather than pulling the rubber safety nub off the needle. (Good hell, how I did that...there are no words. Again...I do not know.) I couldn't safely thread the giant needle back into the set, so...
"Dang it!" I say completely frustrated looking towards the heavens, "THIS IS NOT MY JOB!"
J peaks his head out of his room...thinking my comment is for him.
"I'm not talking to you J...I'm talking to your father." Said in a way where each word escalated in both sound and crazy inflection.
He's scared. He knows his mom is about to lose it. He ducks away quickly.
Starting over. New set. Reservoir inserted, the piston in place, I prime the tubing and gently lay the set into the rocket. As I pull off the sticker I somehow lose control of the entire contraption and drop it on the counter, forcing the set to fold back onto itself and render the sticky part of the set completely useless.
Trying to catch it on the way down, super slo-mo like, the needle in magnificent fashion pierces my finger at the exact right moment and bright red blood runs down my hand.
I haven't been angry yet. This is new territory for me. I wasn't angry at Ryan. I wasn't angry at God. I was angry that Ryan was gone. Angry that he wasn't here to make me feel better. He always could make me feel better. Hell, just his sweet face peering around the corner could make me feel better.
I could barely get the third set ready as I shook and cried inconsolably. I knew I was upsetting the boys...but the tears rolled fearlessly down my cheeks. Nothing would stop them...I knew that.
I don't know how I did it but set number three was finished in record time and inserted on oh-so-hesitant L's stomach.
I went to my bedroom and collapsed on my bed. Angry. I need my husband. I NEED him. How did I ever think I could survive without him? I can't do it without him! This is total crap!
And then a knock at the door. The boys were going to bed and they wanted to know if I would be joining them for family prayer.
I took a few deep breaths and sized myself up in my bathroom mirror.
Red eyed crazy. It would have to do.
I made my way out to the living room and found everyone ready in a circle on the floor.
J took my hand and said, "I've got the sets for now on, Mom."
I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him it wasn't his job. But I know it is second nature for him now. I know he feels it is something he can do to help is mother. In that moment I knew I had to let him DO something. I nodded and felt an immediate burst of love for all my boys. They so want to take care of me. I don't want them to have extra responsibilities...I want to do it all for them. But we all have to do more now. We all have to work together and find our new roles.
It was L's turn to pray tonight. He prayed for another beautiful day. He prayed that tomorrow, as the sun shined, we would be able to remember daddy, and smile.
How could I be angry after that?
How can I be angry when I am blessed with such amazing boys?
I don't know...I'm sure I'll find a way. I'm not so far on the crazy side that I don't know my emotions will overfloweth for awhile. All of them, the good and the bad.
I'm just happy that when they do, I'll know that my boys, and prayer, will always see me through.