You know how everything has a name nowadays. Like stupid days we can buy cards for…
So Singles Day or National Pizza day (it’s a thing.)
Diabetes has a whole host of names for related conditions that are a spin off from the condition itself…
(I know, like having Type 1 isn’t enough, turns out if has a whole family of conditions that tie into it.)
There are so many.
Currently, in this house, we are suffering from Diabetes Burnout.
My daughter has it, and I have it – and the prolonged guilt that I have for having it is like a weight around my neck.
But I need to say it out loud – I am sick to the back teeth of Diabetes, I just want a week without it, to remember what life was like without this massive fecking cloud shitting all over our life.
I said it. Using words that will displease my mother.
And now, I need to apologise to my thirteen year old daughter for saying it. Because, actually, I don’t have Type 1 – she does.
I don’t live with Type 1 – she does, I am more the irritating neighbourhood watch representative, that frequently pops round to enforce the rules.
It is relentless.
It is a condition that doesn’t have an off day, that follows no rules. That can lull you into a false sense of security by giving you a decent week of blood sugars, then bamn – it hurtles razor blades from the skies at you – for what seems to be no reason at all.
And of course, there are reasons – puberty, periods, growth, boyfriend issues, pizza, a sneaked sweet.
But it isn’t logical, and it can take weeks to figure out what has gone wrong, and then you may have a whole new host of problems to contend with.
It is infuriating, the condition steals the sleep of the parent, and takes away the carefreeness of childhood for the kid.
It breaks my heart. Because my kid should be relaxing and rebeling through her teenage years, not counting carbs and wondering if she will still have her eyesight when she is fifty.
It exhausts me, I spent Saturday night watching her blood sugars rise and fall like the swell of the ocean when a storm comes in. She was at a sleepover, mortified at 5am when eventually I had to call her to prevent a night time hypo.
What 13 year old wants their mum on the phone at 5am….
What mum wants to call their teenager at 5am?
After six years, and one epically bad month – I am ready to throw the towel in.
Irony being, if I do throw the towel in – all that will happen, is, it will boomarang back into my fist. Because there is no where else for it to go. The only person who can shoulder this burden is her, and christ nows, I am going to do my best to carry as much of it as possible for as long as I humanly can.
The cure for diabetic burnout – well, just like its big brother, no bugger has invented one.
So, it is merely, just a case of suck it up momma.
I feel like laying down in the middle of the world and tantruming. I want to wrench the sugar gremlin out of her blood stream and burn it alive. I want to be able to eat a meal without carb counting, I’d like an evening spent without graphs in front of me looking for trends that I can control. I would love to watch my daughter drink an apple juice without wondering how that sugar rush will impact her kidneys.
I crave normality like a junkie hunkers after a fix.
Then I feel the guilt shaped monster consume me with one bite again, because, as someone who has frequented the children’s ward far too much in one lifetime, I know it could be worse.
But burnout is where we are. She is home from school, as I can’t control her numbers, we are sitting here, not really sure what to do – because we are not doctors.
We have spoken to the doctors – they are not sure what to do either – because it is a condition that makes its own rules, and changes them at will.
We have been here before, and I know I’ll be here again. It’s part of the curse. I am trying everything to alleviate my mood and to look like a good parent. Flipping hard when you are bustling through on 24 nights of broken sleep, and you just want to moan.
Good job I have a blog where I can brush off my soapbox and climb upon it.
The moral – please take a moment to understand the complexities that make up a type 1 world. And if you know a Type 1 or their mother – take them cake – because that helps.
Thanks for listening,