Ollie joins the team
Ollie was diagnosed 11mos to the day of his little sister's diagnosis, June 5, 2016. He was 8, soon to be 9. Again, we were making our summer pilgrimage to Maine only this time a few weeks earlier than the year before. We noticed Ollie had wet beds at both hotel stops along the way. Marshall and I were concerned, but thought maybe the traveling was just throwing off his sleep. When we arrived in Maine, however, the bedwetting continued. We knew this wasn't like him, and being on high alert to excessive urination, decided to test him. It was surreal being in this same situation not even a year later. I remember sitting on the uncomfortable couch in our living room, trying to convince Ollie to hand over his finger. He pleaded with Marshall and I not to poke him. I couldn't quite tell if he was more afraid of the pain of the lancet or the fear of the number. He had been hiding his wet sheets, we later found out, for a few weeks. He watched his sister go down this road last year, and I'm sure he knew what was happening. We took his number first thing in the morning; a fasting blood sugar for a person with a healthy pancreas will be 80-100. Ollie's bg was 176. I didn't quite know what that meant. It was certainly higher than normal, but not in the 200s like Walker. "Maybe it's something else", I tried to convince Marshall. But we knew it wasn't. What now? It's not quite high enough to race down to Portland. Would he even need to be admitted into the hospital? Do we fly back to Denver to see our pediatric endocrinologist? That seemed a bit extreme. Marshall called our doctor in Denver, while I called the general pediatric clinic in our town in Maine. Our hope was to avoid the hospital, avoid the scariness of it for Ollie. It took many phone calls and multiple days (and Marshall convincing the doctor in Portland that, no, we aren't negligent parents and yes, we're taking this very seriously) before it was agreed that admitting Ollie would not serve anyone well. Marshall and I knew what to do and Ollie was still healthy and safe (we caught it before any of the big signs were even evident). We wanted to make this less about the disease and more about his overall well-being.
After tracking blood sugars and carb counts and an at-home A1c test, we were finally able to get in to see the doctor in Portland a few days later. Marshall was at a business conference, so my mom and I took Ollie to his appointment with Walker in tow. Our Maine endo is wonderful with kids, but less so with their parents. We had a history with him, and last summer had left a sour taste in my mouth (a story for another time). But, I remember how great he was with Walker and we weren't quite in the position to be picky, especially since he agreed to our "no hospital" request. He was great with Ollie too it turned out, and we left the clinic with a few prescriptions and a box of syringes. His first dose, I was instructed, was to be given at his first meal, and Lantus would be administered before bed.
Oh shit. It's 11am. Ollie's hungry for lunch and Marshall's flight doesn't land until 3. He had tried to get an earlier flight to make it to the appointment, but because it was all so last minute it just didn't work out. In many ways Walker is our tough kid, and Ollie is much more sensitive. He feels things deeply. I was really not wanting to have to give him this shot after lunch.
So we went to lunch. He knew he'd need a shot. When I told him we were going to do it in the back of the car he looked at me like I was crazy. It took 20 mins to give him that first shot. He prepped himself, talked himself out of it, regained his courage, lost it again, over and over. Finally he said "ok" and I did it. He screamed, and I quietly wept.
I wasn't as devastated this time like I was last summer. I wasn't afraid like the year before, at least, not in the same ways. I was devastated for Ollie, that he would have to have this hard thing to go through on a daily basis. I was afraid for him, but I wasn't afraid for me. I knew I could keep him alive. I knew how to count carbs and do the math and watch for the signs of highs and lows. But it's different for everyone, and Ollie isn't Walker. But I am grateful they have each other and they have Marshall to set the example. It's not scary for either of the kids, because this is what we do in our family. There's no "it's not fair" being thrown around in our house, because we're all in it together. It's most certainly fair.
Ollie's "diagnosis" photo is totally different from Walker's. A far cry from the hospital bed and IV splint.
