Poking the Beehive

Since the New Year we have been struggling with BGs. Rarely have we seen a number that starts with a 1.  We see BGs in the 200s, 300s and even the very unnerving 400s.  On a couple occasions we have aggressively overcorrected and Ben has gone low.  But for the most part we have been stuck in the 200s.

For the most part, I am unphased by an occasional high number, but BGs over 200, check after check after check, start to rattle me. My brain goes directly from a BG of 258 to envisioning big clumps of glucose floating around my baby's blood vessels and smashing into the back of his eyeballs.  I know, I know, I know, that all seems a little over the top, but this is my baby I am worried about.

Jeff agreed it was time for me to start tweaking Ben's pump settings. We started slow. Our first priority was to get his morning number back in range. I decided to up his 3:00 am to 6:00 am basal rate.  I increased it by the very minimum amount.  Every time I touch any of Ben's pump settings I feel like I am poking a beehive with a stick. Now don't get me wrong, a beehive is a very amazing thing, it's where those amazing little bees make the nectar of the gods, honey. But if you want any of that honey you better play really nice and not piss off the bees.  So, I make a very teeny, tiny adjustment and then run for cover worried that a swarm of angry diabetic bees will attack us. This time there was no swarm and this small adjustment seemed to bring down his morning BG a bit, but not too much, but also not nearly enough.  Not enough for me to stop worrying about Ben's eyeballs. So I kept poking the beehive.

I continued to be patient, making small adjustments each day until last week, until Tuesday when Ben ran out of insulin at school. Ben was requiring more and more insulin. The amount of insulin that would normally last three days was running out in two. Something dramatic had changed in Ben and it was time to make even more dramatic changes to his pump settings.  It was time to throw away the poking stick.

Thursday Ben stayed home from school nursing his broken shoulder (while watching Cartoon Network) and I obsessed about his BGs.  I sent our nurse educator an extensive email detailing Ben's BGs, what changes I had already made to his pump settings, and ended with Ben's broken shoulder story.  I closed with "Pretty please help me."  Because our nurse educator is AWESOME, I received a reply within a few hours.  She sent me detailed instructions to change pretty much everything. I quickly made all the changes.

Friday morning I was hoping (expecting) to start seeing BGs in the 100s. Instead I continued to see 200s and even 300s.  I am now on the verge, on the verge of having a Shirley MacLaine from Terms of Endearment sized meltdown.  Here is an example of my mental state in case you not familiar with Shirley MacLaine or the movie.

Then Saturday evening after another day of high numbers Ben asked me if he could have an ice cream.  I tell him we need to check his BG first.  He brings me his test kit and we check and then 312 flashes on his monitor.

I respond with a very dramatic, "UGH! Seriously?!"

Ben drops his head and says, "I am sorry."

Startled, I ask, "What are you sorry for?"

Ben responds, "I am sorry for the 312."

I start to realize what I had done.

I assure Ben, "You have nothing to be sorry for. The 312 is NOT your fault.  It's NOT your fault that you have Diabetes. So it can NOT be your fault that you have a high or low blood sugar ... Do you understand?"

Ben replies, "I think so ... But I wish you had told me that before."

Now I am sorry. Sorry, I had freaked out and sorry I had made Ben feel responsible. It was now my turn to apologize.

"Ben, I am sorry I didn't tell you that before. It's not your fault! Do you forgive me?"

Ben smiles and says, "Yes."

I really blew this time.  I let all my anxiety overwhelm my normally rational self.  We have been living with T1 now for a few years. I know better than this. I know that it is not healthy, mentally healthy, to become emotional and over react to BG numbers.  But at this point I couldn't stop worrying about what horrible damage all that extra glucose has been doing to Ben.  Jeff warned me I needed to calm down. Ben's brothers warned me too. But not until I had this conversation with Ben did I realize what was causing the real IMMEDIATE damage. It wasn't all that extra glucose, it was ME.

Today, we still do not have Ben's BGs down where I would like them to be.  I am still making adjustments to Ben's pump settings. I am back to poking the beehive. But I am not freaking out. 

That is not completely true ... I am quietly freaking out ... but only on the inside now.

Then comes Wednesday ...

Please forgive me.  Had to continue my long epic "poem".  Our journey this week was still not over.

Then comes Wednesday
Begins just like Tuesday
With super dad packing up boys
And driving them all to school
Mom slowly drags herself
Out of bed
But today I work from home

Today is Ben’s debut

His 4^th grade school play
Will skip out this afternoon
Watch my baby shine on stage
Boys attend “all boys” school
Like Shakespearean actors boys play females
Ben is so brave
Took the only female role
Playing the sassy girlfriend

Shuffle downstairs in my pjs

Pour big, big cup of coffee
Cream, NO SUGAR
Sit down at desk
Start another busy, busy day
11:00 am conference call
Chatting with folks across the pond

Beep, beep, beep

See Jeff is calling
Ignore
Still working
Will call back later

Beep, beep, beep

Seriously, Jeff?
I will call you back
Ignore
Still working

Beep, beep, beep

What the heck?
Worry now
Bad mommy feeling
Rudely interrupt conference call
Got to go
That was so unprofessional

Finally click over

Hello, what’s going on?
Please meet me at Children’s Hospital
Ben fell at recess
Needs x-rays
Ben’s not crying
Just seems sad
Will be there in 30 minutes

Change out of pjs

Pour one more coffee
To go this time
Scrape ice off car
Still not too worried
Seen inside ER before
At least no ambulance this time

Meet Jeff at hospital door

X-ray already done
Waiting for results
Ben is sad
Does it hurt?
Not too much
Why so sad?
Going to miss school play

Nurse calls Ben’s name

Results are in
Small crack near shoulder
Need to see ortho specialist
Definitely miss play
Now Ben super sad

Jeff going back to school

Ben and I need to drive to ortho office
Jeff gently kisses Ben good-bye
Wait!
Ben has diabetes
Almost forgot that part!
Jeff gives me
Test kit
Glucose tabs
And protein bar
Ben missed lunch

Driving to ortho

How far mom?
Not very far
Mom, my arm hurts
I bet it does
How did it happen?
Tripped on basketball in gym
Ben declares
No more basketball
Only hockey from now on!

Park

Walk slowly to front door
Register
Handed clipboard
Fill out forms
Any medical conditions?
Want to write
DAMN Diabetes
But don’t
Write Type 1 Diabetes
Taking any medications?
Insulin
Frequency?
This time DO write
Forever and ever

Second time today

Nurse calls Ben’s name
Follow her to examine room
Answer same questions from form
This time omit
Snarky answers

Nurse leaves

Doctor enters
There is a break
But can not cast
Too close to shoulder
Wear sling instead
For 4 to 6 weeks
Pain should stop in 2 weeks
Head explodes
2 weeks of pain?!
Here is a prescription for
Tylenol with Codeine
To help sleep
Come back in 4 weeks
No sports until then
Here is your gym note
That’s it
Doctor leaves

Wow

Ben you ok?
I am ok
Doctor said 2 weeks and pain should go away
Ben pauses
Looks at me
Smiles ...
“That’s not so long Mom
At least this Doctor didn’t say
The rest of my life!”

Ha!

You are so right
You are so wise
2 weeks really isn’t that long
This time
It’s not
Forever and ever!

We collect our paperwork

And our CD with the x-rays
Leave
Stopping at registration
To make a return appointment
Is Feb 13^th a good day?
As good a day as any

Before we leave office

Sit and check BG
Carefully prick finger
257
Correct
And wonder
How will a broken limb affect Ben’s BG?
Suppose we will soon find out

We slowly and gently walk back to car

Quick steps
Heavy steps
Hurt
I buckle Ben in
Just like when he really was my baby

On the way home
Decide to stop at school
Pickup backpack
Left behind

Walking across campus

Run into buddy
4^th grade play just ended
Ms Drama Teacher filled in for Ben
Buddy chuckles
Says Ms Drama Teacher
Wasn’t so funny
Not as funny as Ben
Ben chuckles too

Head to homeroom

Stopped many, many more times
“Ben what happened?”
“Ben you ok?”
Quietly Ben responds
Reassuring everyone
“It’s broke … but I am ok”

Finally make it

More warm greetings
From classmates
From Mr 4^th Grade Teacher
Ben struggles but is able
To write down his assignments
Read Chapter 4 of Hatchet
Study for spelling test tomorrow
Pack up books, coat, and hat
Quietly wave good-bye

In the hall now

Ask Ben
Should we check with Mr Math teacher?
Must have math homework too
Do we have to?
You know,
I hate math!

I pause

I look at Ben
So brave
So strong
And so very, very wise

No Ben

No we don’t have to
There will be
No math homework tonight!

Tuesday begins ...

Tuesday begins
With super dad packing up boys
Driving them all to school
Mom slowly drags herself
Out of bed
And off to work I go

Busy, busy day in office
But find 5 minutes
To call grandparents
Ask to babysit
Tomorrow night
Dad and I want to see “Les Mis”
Yes?
Hooray!  Come by around 5:00
 
Busy, busy day continues
It’s already 4:00?!
Quickly pack up
Need to pick up boys at school

Racing to elevator
Cellphone vibrates in pocket
Hmmm, school nurse
Can’t be good news
What?! What?!
Did I just hear that?
Ben has no insulin left in his pump
Nothing at all?  Zero?
Nothing at all
By the way, Ben is over 400
I’ll be there in 20 minutes

Push elevator button 2 more times
Useless
Run downstairs instead
Shuffle feet quickly
Across icy parking lot
Slide straight into car door
BANG!  OUCH!
 
Now drive off wondering
How did that happened?
Where did all Ben’s insulin go?
Coughing, coughing for days
Can’t keep blood sugars down
Needed more and more insulin
Never used so much insulin before

Pull into school parking lot
Less icy here
Must have used lots of salt
Safely arrive in nurse’s office
Without another BANG

Nurse hands me brown paper bag
Pull out reservoir
Pull out tubing
Pull out IV prep
Chat about diabetes camp
Prime pump
Pinch cheeks
Stab
OUCH!
Sorry!

Nurse politely suggests
Recheck Ben
104 now
What?! What?!
Lowest number in days
OK boys, let’s get home

Safely make it back to car, again
Drive home
Boys chatting
Tomorrow is Ben’s first play
Tomorrow Abu and Grampy coming to sit
Dad and I get to see “Les Mis”

Finally home
Boys blanket kitchen table with backpacks and books
Please make room for a plate and fork
Garren with headphones
Ben lying down on bench
Ben crying about homework
“I hate math!”

Open frig
Leftover rice
Scramble eggs
Frozen peas
Worry Ben needs to eat ASAP
Was 400 then 100 … too fast

As I nuke peas
Watch “Les Mis” concert on iPad
Sing
Certain I sound as great as Fontine
Ben whines
Maybe not

Assemble dinner plates
Suggest Ben check BG now
Finish crying about horrible division worksheet
Check
37 flashes on screen
Mom, I am Patrice Bergeron
Places face in folded hands
Sobs
Eats 3 glucose tabs
Set kitchen timer for 15 minutes
And put dinner plates back on kitchen counter

Waiting
Listening
iPad still playing
“Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the songs of angry men”
With face buried in his arms
Ben pounds the table
Then declares
“I wish I could drag diabetes out of my body
And then with a with a big fat knife stab it to death”
Startled
WOW!
Violent
Then reconsider
I wish that too

Wait some more
Ben continues quietly pound the table with fist
Need to distract
“You know who would appreciate your murderous diabetes ways?”
Nick Jonas
He is singing right now
Bring iPad over
We wonder if he is hiding a pump under his fancy costume
We wonder if he checked his BG before he got on stage
We both decide 150 would be a good number
We watch him sing
Eponine is dying
Ben says, “Sooooo sad … but so beautiful.”

Buzz ... Buzz ... Buzz
Kitchen alarm
Time to recheck
115
Yeah!
Time to eat

Place cold dinner plates on kitchen table
Garren finally takes headphones off
Asks what we are listening to
Ben digs into his plate ravenously
Walk to sink
Start scrubbing pans
Listen to more songs about french revolution
Remember Ben’s comment
So sad but so beautiful
He is exactly right
Just like Nick Jonas
So sad but so beautiful
Just like my baby, Ben
 
Lost in thought
Suddenly, more fist pounding on table
Startled
I turn
“Mom!  I hate math!”

 

If you made it this far … thanks for reading!   My very first “poem” (note the quotes) was inspired by Sharon Creech’s book, Love that Dog.  Ms. Creech please  forgive me.  I know it’s horrible … but it sure was fun to write.

Confession

Since I started this blog and posting stories about our lives with T1, when I run into friends and family around town I am greeted with comments like, "I have been reading your blog.  You are such a great parent.  Ben is lucky to have you."  Now it is always nice to receive compliments, especially when they are about my parenting (my very most important job.)  If I am to be totally honest I save the good stories for my blog and keep the bad stories (like when I had a "rage" fit over the pile of shoes at the front door) to myself.  But I feel the time has come for a full T1 mom confession.

This November I made an early 2013 New Year's resolution.  In an attempt to better train for the Cohasset Triathlon this coming June, I made a commitment to run a 5K a month.  I started with an early morning Thanksgiving 5K and last week I ran a 4 mile Toys for Tots run.  When I was getting ready to leave last weekend I asked my oldest, Garren, if we wanted to come.  He turned me down because he had an afternoon hockey practice. As I returned to tying my shoes Ben came running over and said, "Mom, I want to run!" 

Now a super T1 mom would most likely respond, "Great.  Go get your shoes on!"  But as you might be able to guess, that is not exactly how I responded.  I thought to myself (hopefully not revealing anything on my face), "Ugh."  Bringing Ben would mean bringing test kits and glucose tabs.  Plus, I have never run with him before.  I had no idea how a 4 mile run would affect him.  It was going to be a struggle just for me to finish.  How can I run and take care of Ben?  

God, just typing that makes me feel badly!  Because in the end Ben didn't come.  I was selfish and scared and I convinced him it would be best to try running something shorter at home first and train for the next 5K.

What had happened to the mother who had made the commitment to never let T1 prevent Ben from doing anything!?

Just two posts ago I had written about how hard it is to say “No” to Ben.  What kind of T1 mom says “Yes” to a popsicle but then “No” to exercise?  I thought about that very question while I was running.  I think there were two main reasons I discouraged Ben from joining me.  

First, I was scared.  The thought of running with Ben in a pack of people and him having a low or even just losing sight of him was unnerving.  I imagined myself wanting to stop and test his blood sugar every 10 minutes. And if I couldn't constantly check him I would instead constantly ask him, "Ben, how ... (huff) ... are you ... (puff) ... feeling?" 

Secondly, I wanted to run just for me. I am already the slowest runner (really I am more a fast walker). If I were to attempt to run and manage Ben's diabetes I would have likely ended up just walking.  And I wanted to run and focus on myself for an hour and not worry about diabetes.  Selfish maybe, but the truth yes.

Something else occurred to me as I was huffing and puffing my way through my run. Three years ago when Ben was first diagnosed Jeff and I had decided that we would make a commitment to regular exercise in the hope we would inspire Ben to do the same.  I had successfully done that very thing, Ben wanted to run too.  And now it was time to push past the fear and help Ben learn how to manage his diabetes while running a 5K.

So I am ending 2012 with no "mother of the year" awards.  But I am starting 2013 with one more New Year’s resolution.  Not only will I be continuing my commitment to running a 5K a month, but I will also start training Ben to run his very own 5K too!  

A Night in the Life

Over the past few weeks we have been struggling with late night high glucose numbers.  We have tried changing the time Ben eats his bed time snack.  We have tried changing around his snack choices.  We have even avoided eating bed time snacks altogether.  We have adjusted his basal rates.  But we have had little success.

Then Sunday night, after a busy weekend, I decided to go to bed early.  Jeff was going to be up late working on his computer, so after I tucked in Ben and his brothers I went straight to bed myself and I quickly fell asleep.  Then around 11:00 pm I woke up and did a groggy debate with myself, "Should I get up (out of my warm and cozy bed) and check Ben?"

I argued, "Why get up?" … "There was no chance Ben would be low. He hadn't been low at this time of night for weeks. I was going to get up at 3:00 am to check him. And if he is high I can correct his blood sugar then."

These all seemed like sound arguments.  So my exhausted brain decided to stay in bed and within seconds I was dreaming again.

Soon I was startled out of my sleep by the bathroom light and the opening and closing of doors.  As I rubbed my eyes open I looked at the clock, it was 12:30 am.  Jeff soon came back in the bedroom looking very unhappy.  I asked, "What is going on?"  He said he had checked Ben when he came up to go to bed and he was 54.  I was shocked, "Seriously?  Are you sure he wasn't 254?"  That would have made more sense to my jumbled brain.  But nope, Ben was low.  Jeff quickly left the room and I heard him walking down the stairs on a mission to retrieve apple juice boxes.  I must have then fallen back to sleep because soon I was again awoken when Jeff pulled the covers back as he eventually got into bed.  Jeff quietly mumbled, "I gave Ben a juice box and will check him again in 15 minutes. Go back to sleep."  I quickly went back to sleep.

But it was a T1 mom sleep.  It was a groggy dreamy sleep, but still not 100% asleep.  It was a worried sleep.  And soon I was hearing the worried voices.  (Yes, I do hear voices in my head.)  The voices first start quietly nagging.  "Wake up.  How is Ben?" But as I already stated I was tired.  It was going to take more then a polite reminder to wake me up.  So soon the voices started yelling at me!  "WAKE UP!  YOU NEED TO CHECK BEN?"

I sat straight up.  I looked around the dark room and saw Jeff sleeping right next to me.  I remembered he had said he would check Ben, but did he?  I didn't hear him get up.  I poked his back until he rolled over, and I asked, "Did you recheck Ben?" Now Jeff sat up startled.  He looked at the clock and then he got out of bed grumbling.  He left the room to check Ben.  And for the second time in one night Jeff came back in the bedroom looking very unhappy.  As Jeff was unwrapping a juice box he said, "He is 52! He went down and it has been 45 minutes since I gave him the last juice box.  How is that possible?" Jeff must have realized I had no good answers, because he left the room without waiting for me to speak a word and gave Ben his second juice box of the night.

When Jeff returned I told him to go to sleep, I would recheck Ben.  It was almost 2:00 am.  I knew there was no way the voices in my head were going to let me sleep now.  So I lied down, rolled on my side and watched the clock tick away 15 more minutes.  When I finally checked Ben again he was 118.

With Ben's numbers heading in the right direction I could now safely go back to sleep ... but it was too late.  The voices in my head were not going to leave me alone.  I suppose the voices felt empowered now and they wanted to solve all my problems. So they started to pepper me with questions.

"Why was Ben low?"
"What do you think his number is now?"
"When are you going to send out your Christmas cards?"
"By the way, you're getting fat and you need to exercise more."
"Is there enough milk in the fridge for breakfast?"
"What do you think Ben's number is now?"
"Are you ready for your work meeting tomorrow?"
"What do you think Ben's number is now!?"
"And, do you hear us? You're getting Fat!"

It took hours for the voices to tire of their endless nagging and questioning.  Though these voices are annoying (and at times mean) and I wished the voices would just shut up and go away, at the same time I was grateful.  I was grateful that they woke me up when I needed to be!  Eventually, I did fall back to sleep.  And I had about as good a night of sleep as I have had since Ben's diagnosis.

I suppose Type 1 Diabetes never sleeps and neither do T1 parents.  So if you run into me and I am unusually grumpy, please forgive me!  It is quite likely that the voices kept me up again ... And though they can be life-saving, they aren't always particularly nice.

Wouldn't it be easier to just say No?

This year, my brother and his lovely new wife flew into Boston from California to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with us on the east coast.  The night before they were flying home my mother arranged one more family dinner cooking up all our favorite Puerto Rican dishes.  After all the rice and beans were gone and we finished fighting over the last plantains the kids ran off to play and the rest of us sat around the table chatting and complaining about our over stuffed bellies.

Soon after dinner, Ben came running back into the dining room and announced he wanted to have a popsicle!  Like every other T1 mom my next question was, "Do you know how many carbs are in the popsicle?" Ben said “No” because part of the nutrition label had been ripped off the box.  He quickly ran back to the freezer and pulled out the box to show us.  Indeed only half of the nutrition label was left, and it wasn't the side with any useful numbers.  Ben and I then started our guessing game.  I suggested it was 10 carbs.  Ben quickly countered with 5 carbs.  Jeff quickly insisted we Stop!  The guessing game drives him bananas.  Jeff likes to deal with facts.  So he pulled out his Blackberry and googled "Dora the Explorer popsicles." My brother-in-law then pulls out his phone and insists his iPhone can find the nutrition info quicker and challenges Jeff to a race.

All the while, my brother is quietly watching this whole scene play out. At one point he interrupts and asks, "I don't mean to be rude, but wouldn't it have been easier to just say No?"

This question caught me a little off guard.  I answered with a "Maybe." I really was not sure how to honestly answer the question.  I thought about it a few more seconds but my attention quickly returned to the carb guessing game and the cell phone race.  Eventually, the Blackberry wins and we find the exact nutrition label.  The carbs total 14 and to Ben's delight the serving size is 2 popsicles!  Ben enters 14 carbs into his pump, grabs 2 popsicles, and races off to play with his cousins.

Since that dinner, I keep finding my thoughts continually returning to my brother's question.  Would it have been easier to just say "No"?

Before Ben was diagnosed I naively imagined that managing life with Type 1 Diabetes was simply as easy as just saying "No" to some "unhealthy" food choices.  Jeff and I very quickly learned that was very far from the truth.  When we returned home from the hospital after Ben's diagnosis, Jeff and I made a commitment to do our best to not fill Ben's life with “No's”.

Even though we dream for Ben to live a carefree life, we have learned this simply is not Ben's reality.  There are still many times when the only answer is “No”.  Just yesterday before dinner we checked Ben's blood sugar and he was only 39.  We had to tell him, "No, you can't eat yet. We need to get your sugar back up first." And believe me, this is not what you want to hear when you are hungry and have been waiting for your favorite plate of pasta and meatballs.

We have also agreed on a very short list of foods that are simply "No" foods:  bagels, big soft pretzels, and over-sized slushes.  Beyond those few food items we do our very, very best to help Ben enjoy everything he wants to eat.  So last week when Ben asked to have a popsicle both Jeff and I did not hesitate.

However, if I am being totally honest, our commitment to helping Ben manage his diabetes is not the only reason I did not say "No".  The truth is I have always (even well before Ben's diagnosis) struggled with saying "No" to Ben.  His brother's have always marveled at how easily Ben could get me to cave in.  Ben has the sweetest face.  He simply needs to ask me for whatever he wants and then look at me with his puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.  I immediately melt.  Both Garren and Cole have attempted to mimic this face, but it never works.  If I continue to be honest, the fact that Ben is my youngest and will always be my baby gives him additional powers over me that his brothers just don’t have.

Now all of this was true well before Ben was diagnosed with Type 1.  As I have noted in previous posts, when I learned and really understood how this diagnosis would affect Ben’s life, my already weak heart broke into one million pieces.  Since that day it takes all of my motherly strength to disappoint Ben with a “No”.  If he gives me his pouty face, I have to look away!  Otherwise, all my sadness and guilt will overwhelm me.  And my need to just make his life one tiny bit better will lead me to give in and say “Yes” when a “No” is the appropriate answer.  Over the past years, I have learned that there is so much more to raising a child with T1 then counting carbs, managing insulin and visiting doctors.  And I know disappointing Ben and telling him “No” will continue to be a challenge for me. 

So finally after a week of thought and soul searching, I have an answer to my brother's question, "Wouldn't it be easier to just say No?"

If he were to ask me again I would now say, "No!  Living with Type 1 Diabetes does not (and can not) be a life filled with of No's ... And honestly, I couldn't say No even if I wanted to."

Thanksgiving

Yesterday I stumbled upon a Gone with Wind marathon on AMC.  I love this movie and I love, love the book!  I have read it several times enjoying it more each time.  I have always admired Scarlett O’Hara’s strength, determination and her unrelenting Hope.  Though Rhett Butler delivers the most popular line in the movie, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn” it is not my favorite.  I love the very last line delivered by Scarlett O’Hara, as she watches Rhett Butler walk away and wiping away her tears she ends the book/movie by saying, "After all, tomorrow is another day!"

As I watched the end of the movie yesterday, this last line got me thinking.  Thinking about tomorrow … thinking about Thanksgiving … thinking about how thankful I am that indeed tomorrow is another day and Ben will be there to celebrate it with us.

Today, as we sit down for Thanksgiving dinner, we will measure serving sizes, count carbs and give Ben his bolus, and my heart will be filled with gratitude.  I am thankful for this clear magical liquid with the very distinctive smell of band-aids which has overtaken the butter compartment in my refrigerator and keeps my youngest son (my baby) alive.  Ben is able to sit with us at our family table and share this Thanksgiving dinner because we have insulin.

I am thankful for Canada, the University of Toronto, the bright ideas of Dr. Fredrick Banting and Charles Best, for the brave young kids that participated in the early human trials, and for Eli Lilly who worked so hard to mass produce the new life-saving drug.

I am also thankful for all the men and women, whose names I yet do not know, who are working diligently to find a cure for Type 1 Diabetes.  Because like Scarlett O’Hara, I have Hope too.  Hope that one day a cure will be discovered.  And one day, one Thanksgiving, we will be thanking a new list of scientists and doctors who cured diabetes mellitus, insulin-dependent, Type 1 Diabetes.  But until that day comes I will be thankful for each and every day in between, because “After all, tomorrow is another day!”  And every one of those days is a gift.