Wednesday, November 7, 2012

The wave.


B and L had their first therapy appointments this week.  They both left with the biggest smiles declaring, "That was awesome!  When are we going back?"  A stark contrast to M and J's reaction. 

On the way home B shared with me an observation that none other than his school teacher imparted: 

"Imagine standing on the beach.  Happy, talking with your friends...and then out of nowhere a giant wave hits you.  That is how sadness works.  It washes over us when we least expect it."

No truer words have ever been spoken.

But this post isn't about grief today.  I want to twist the analogy a bit and see if it hits home for you.

"Imagine standing on the beach.  Happy, talking with your friends...and then out of nowhere a giant wave hits you.  That is how low blood sugars work.  They hit us when we least expect it."

Oh wait...here's a better one:

"Imagine standing on a baseball field.  Happy, talking with your friends...and then out of nowhere a metal bat hits you in the neck.  That is how low blood sugars work.  They knock the wind out of you when you least expect it."

Case in point, I saw two 40's and two 30's last week.

My head is still spinning.

The boys will have a few days when everything works as it should.  Basals are spot on.  Ratios are spot on.  All is right with the world, and then BAM!  Wave/Bat.  Out of nowhere.

The internal panic is so hard to describe.  As a parent I try hard to be calm and matter of fact. 

"Let's fix this."

But as a human being I begin my internal panic attack and think, "What if." All the while trying to pay attention to my protocol. 

Feed.

Check for Insulin on board.

Temp basal if necessary.

Recheck.

Repeat.

There are a lot of important steps and wisdom that need to come to the forefront of my mind during a panicked incident such as a 30 with a load of insulin on board...

My brain is running on 50% capacity as it is.  I'm nervous I won't make the best decisions, and since I don't  trust myself lately I've been over compensating with more carbs than they need.

Because I can't lose them.
 
(Whoa.  Where did that wave just come from?)

It is the griever in me that gives in to the knee jerk reaction to get them out of danger, and get them out as quickly as possible.  No...I'm not going over board...but I'm not following the rules of thumb I always kept myself to, either.

I'm scared more.

Scratch that.

I'm terrified more.

Lately, I lay in bed at night and wonder if the boys are breathing.  I think, of course they are, them not breathing would just never happen.  Then I think...shiz happens to our family that just doesn't happen to other families.  How does God think I am strong enough for all of this?  And then I remind God that I'm on my breaking point.  I NEED joy right now.  Anymore sadness and I'll break.  I'm sure of it.  I'm keeping it together...but it seems my "together" is held only by lightweight thread and Elmer's Glue.

I'm hoping that by typing this out, I'll be more aware of my problem and be able to deal with the waves with a more realistic philosophy.

"A wave?  So we are wet.  We dry ourselves and move on."

And not:

"A wave?  We might get swept out to sea...wait...is that a shark?!"

I understand why I'm feeling this way.  I just need to move forward and trust that everything will be ok.

That is a lot of trust.  Laying it all at God's feet has never been more real for me than it is now.  Finding HOW to do that has been a process. 

It is so much easier said than done.

I'm working on it though.

And in the meantime I'll remind myself that my boys have woken up every morning  so far, and they've been perfectly fine.

I'll get through it.  These waves/baseball bats just need to back off.  I started off this blog saying this post wasn't about grief.  Organically, it turned out that it was exactly what this post was about.

Just goes to show that this blog is my best form of therapy.  I never know what I'm going to get when I start typing.  I've had a good cry.  Things make more sense.

I feel better.

It WILL be ok.  Not okay is just not a viable option right now.

I can do this.
 
Therapy....CHECK.
 
Pep talk...CHECK.
 
Bring it.
 

14 comments:

  1. I love how well you put your feelings into words Meri. I know that feeling. The first time Sarah had a low where she wasn’t responding to me, that’s exactly how I felt. I’d failed her. I couldn’t keep her safe. The knot in your stomach that forms at the first glance of those low numbers takes a long time to dissipate. You are amazing.

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  2. I love how well you put your feelings into words Meri. I know that feeling. The first time Sarah had a low where she wasn’t responding to me, that’s exactly how I felt. I’d failed her. I couldn’t keep her safe. The knot in your stomach that forms at the first glance of those low numbers takes a long time to dissipate. You are amazing.

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  3. I do that too, remind God that I am done, no more for me right now. When I get to feeling like I'm gonna break, my MIL tells me that I need to pray more often and ask "Heavenly Father, please, just help me get through this minute" and then when that minute is over ask again, she says that eventually you might not need to ask every minute, but every hour, and hopefully you can get to a point where you can ask for help getting through the day, but when you are at your scariest breaking point, it's okay to ask for help minute by minute. You can do this.

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  4. The whole "one day at a time" thing is my life motto. In times like these it just has to be. There really is no other way.... You can. You will. We have to. I personally dont believe in the whole "god never gives us what we can't handle" but I DO believe he guides us in whatever comes our way if we reach out to him. Reaching out is what Meri is all about, so of course you can and will!

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  5. A friend of mine who lost her mother used the wave analogy when she spoke to me right after my mom passed.
    She told me that no matter how hard the wave hits - even if you think it's going to knock u down and keep you dowh - you do get back up.
    Meri, you articulate your feelings so beautifully into words and I love you so much. And I am continually inspired by your ability to let the wave hit and let it "all" out - And then get back up again!
    Xoxoxo

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  6. Meri - you inspire me. Totally. I've been having that 'wave' - the one that sweeps you out to sea to the shark (what a fantastic anaolgy!) since the scary episode of suspected DKA with Gemma a couple of weeks ago. Its abating slightly, and reading your words have really helped. Those scary feelings are something and even tho I know they are an overreaction to that situation, getting perspective can be difficult. I love the way you write - and the way you manage to deal with the very difficult feelings you must be having. You are a legend, truly. For giving of yourself to us at such a difficult time for you and the boy's. Thank you

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  7. You have a way with metaphors!
    And though it seems like they're having their way with you, you are definitely strong enough.

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  8. Just beautiful and inspiring... Think I will catch a wave a go surfing!
    Love you.

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  9. ...and when that baseball bat hits at 1am it makes it even harder to not overreact to!!

    As my mother described to me after my father's passing, the tsunami-sized waves become regular sized waves after a while, and they hit less often, but they can still catch you off guard and all you can do is dry yourself off and keep going once they recede.

    Love and Hugs and Strength and Peace and Rest!!

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  10. I love that you took this blog post where you needed it to go.

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  11. Meri, you are incredibly positive. It is overwhelming, it is hard, it is a constant misfiring and re-fixing game...there are days when I am overwhelmed, but thank goodness those moments with a metal bat smacking us aren't endless. Thank goodness we have one another, hope, insight and humor.

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  12. Meri, you are an inspiration to me across the other side of the world in New Zealand and you will never know how much you have had an impact on my life. I am in awe of you with your strength, courage and determination. You make me laugh, cry and give me hope. I know that whatever challenge comes your way you will embrace it head on with the amazing determination you have. I think that you you should be a WORLD WIDE AMBASSADOR for Type I Diabetes. Thank you for being you :)

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