I have never disguised that we are a competitive family. We play to win which leads to emotionally charged games of Monopoly and none of the five of us are particularly good losers.
The worse thing you give a family who want to come first?
A chronic illness we can’t cure.
Having Type 1 Diabetes as an unwelcome house guest feels like starting a battle every day to keep my daughters blood sugar levels in the “normal” range.
Fact: A non diabetic has a blood sugar range of between 4 and 7. All day our body cleverly makes intricate changes that process the sugar in our carbohydrate and keeps us healthy.
A child with diabetes has to make those intricate changes themselves, so our day is a process of mathematical sums to calculate how many carbs are going to be eaten and give the correct dose of insulin to try to maintain the level of normality.
I feel like I am sitting by a chess board, carefully plotting my moves against my invisible opponent.
He is a cheater.
Sometimes I do all the moves right, and diabetes clears the board with his hand, a malicious smile lingering on his lips and sends her sugars flying up to 16
There is no explanation.
Other times she sinks to 3.3 and I watch as colour drains from her cheeks and her knees start to knock and her sentences become jumbled through lack of glucose.
I asked twin girl what it feels like today whilst she was cuddling tight into me with a blood sugar reading of 3.7.
It is like shaking and like, like, my head is moving and I can’t make the words seem right and it is loud and confusing. It’s simply horrid.
People with good control of diabetes have two to three hypos a week.
We continue to battle, the never-ending game of chess.
The days we control it well, I feel jubilant; on the days it dominates poaching my pawns and challenging my Queen we start to plan for the tomorrow. What we will do to win the next twenty-four hours.
The plus about being a stupidly competitive family.
Even when we can’t win; we still keep trying.