Our Diabetic Life is just one big round of Hunger Games.
Diabetes is the head gamemaker. He is ruthless. And he keeps the game going no matter how dire the consequences may be.
I'm the mentor to my tributes. I get to watch it all. I have limited control...my voice is always in my boys ears...
But they are out in the arena. Three of MY boys.
In our favor?
If it is a basal race with one...and we spend the entire day chasing highs. Avoiding lows...zig zagging through the prickly brush of insulin sensitivity. As soon as we win...as soon as one is safe and finds a cave to huddle up in for the evening, the next kid is being chased by a swarm of after breakfast spikes.
We are constantly moving. There is rarely rest. And when we are afforded a respite from the game, our down time is devoured anxiously, and is uneasily enjoyed as we know there is another beast around the corner waiting to pounce.
Blood sugar arrows are being shot from all directions, at all times, day and night. The boys survival skills are strengthened with each passing minute...second.
As nimble as we are... As savvy as we get...
They are never in our favor.
Three boys with Type 1.
Three players in the arena.
How hard is it to just keep one alive?
I'll give you a hint: Really hard.
Regardless, I would be unthankful not to note the gifts that are sent to us daily.
The gift of humor.
The gift of perspective.
The gift of appreciation. We appreciate the little things. A 100 blood sugar? Nirvana!
We have experience that tells us we will win each battle...and eventually that will lead to us winning the war.
Or the game, so to speak.
As perilous the journey is...we are surviving.
And better than that? They live!
As we live, we seize each day, each moment, because the game keeper may be ruthless...but he can't take away our love for each other, and the small moments of wonderful that are found within the game.
And the fact remains that my boys have each other out in that arena. They have each other's backs.
Sure, the odds are never in our favor, but we win each battle anyway.
My boys may bleed... My boys may be punctured daily...
But they heal, too. Wounds close. Highs go away. Lows are fixed. Ketones are kept at bay.
My boys are strong.
The odds can suck it.
Battle? Bring it.
There are three out there. But they have each other, and they have me.
And we are way better, together.