It is 5.39am and it looks like sleep has left me for another woman as my eyes refuse to close and my mind is racing.
Two days have passed since the world tiped on its axis once more.
The last two days have been a practice for what will become real life, I have new skills, I am now qualified to inject insulin into a sobbing scared girl who is just starting to realise that this isn’t going away.
“How long do I do this for mummy?” She asked with a spot of hope in her eyes as she looked upon the breakfast needle.
I told the truth and a silent tear dripped down her cheek as she said;
“Forever is a very long time.”
But each needle gets a tiny bit easier and trust me she gets her revenge when she does a urine test and ‘accidentally’ wees on my hand.
I float between emotions of being perfectly fine to scared shitless. Not known for my organisational skills how will I learn to count carbs, measure insulin, remember to give it to her, manage a hypo.
How will I ever let her out of my sight?
If she learns to self inject today we can go home; could I have stuck in needle in my thigh at six?
Then again if you had asked me on monday I would have swore blind I couldn’t put a needle in my child.
Home would be good, I hope the fairies have been round and cleaned it.
Sleep would also be a welcome friend just to ignore the words in my head for a while.
She is right through, forever is a bloody long time.