Thievery

1. Time
2. Energy
3. Joy
4. Spontaneity
5. Patience
6. Money
7. Space
8. Peace
9. Focus
10. Rest
11. Health
12. My daughter’s health, time, energy, joy, spontaneity, patience, money, space, focus, and rest.

These are the loot of diabetes. I think the last is the hardest to internalize. I realize that despite diabetes’ trickery and thieving ways, I must work with it. I must or I will lose more of the above in more copious amounts. But my daughter. The thought of her joined in teamwork with what most certainly feels like the devil is heartrending. This isn’t a two week thing. This is a

FOREVER

thing. Until death. With you throughout life. All of your life from here on out. And now her. I know it has been some time since her diagnosis. I know this. I know it shouldn’t feel so freakin icky and heartrending and terrible.

But it does.

I will always know what she had BEFORE she had diabetes. I will always know what my dreams were for her before diabetes. Before my dreams for her included 504 plans and syringes and vials and blood and hopes that “God I hope she doesn’t do what I did as a teen.” Different. Terrible. Crushing. Diabetes is crushing.

Diabetes is a thief to the person it shares a body with. A thief you can try to bargain with and work around, yes, but still a thief.

Diabetes is a crushing weight to the parent of a child that has diabetes. Sometimes you feel okay and you can pretend it is not there. But eventually there is that day that you realize you can’t move for all the fear in your heart, and you realize that the feeling of being free of that crushing weight was just an illusion. You are still crushed. Pinned by the crushing weight of your child’s disease.

This post coincided neatly with a neat post by Kerri. Go check it out.