Diabetes’s needs are incessant. WAAH I need to have my blood sugar checked WAAH I need a snack WAAH the Dexcom sensor needs swapping WAAH what do you mean, reorder insulin WAAH chronic illness is forever WAAAAAAAAAAH. This disease whines and cajoles for attention all day long.
Over the weekend, I stood at the bathroom counter changing my infusion set while Birdy brushed her teeth and the little guy sat singing in his bouncy chair. A loud burst of noise not unlike an industrial-sized coffee carafe percolating came from the bouncy chair, which prompted Birdy to announce (through a mouthful of toothpaste suds), “He needs a diaper change for sure.”
True. (And ew. Ew-true.)
Diabetes always needs a diaper change, too. But diabetes is not cute. And while it also wakes me up in the middle of the night for feedings, it doesn’t reward me with a toothless smile or a snuggle. These days, diabetes management feels thankless, frustrating, and very ARGHH would you just go AWAY?! Getting into the swing of things with two kids is still an adjustment and I’d like very much if diabetes would go quiet for a spell.
Unlike with my daughter, I am not deep into diabetes burnout this postpartum cycle, but I’m not a big fan of all the diabetes crap that’s still on tap. Small victories keep me going at the moment, like keeping up with inputting the data into my pump (so it can properly calculate my insulin doses instead of me SWAG’ing things) and trying to treat lows conservatively. But I have blood work orders in my wallet that I still haven’t followed through on (they’ve been in my billfold for three weeks now). My fasting BG checks are sometimes taking place two hours after I’m woken up by Guy Smiley. I’m wearing the Dexcom but there are hours worth of highs that ride for too long. I reorder my supplies on time but mostly because I’ve reached my deductible.
I need to shake this settled snow globe of apathy that my diabetes has become.
I have an appointment with a new, local endocrinology team at the end of the month and I’m actually looking forward to it. This appointment will be a paradigm shift in my care, taking a break after 30 years at Joslin. Like hitting the reset button, bringing my care hyperlocal and giving the visits a facelift.
Until then, I’m trying to parent all three “kids” in my house and keep them all safe, sound, and freshly-diapered.