Feeling Alone
I still remember the feeling of coming home from the hospital after Walker’s diagnosis. I was terrified. I was more comfortable coming home with a newborn baby than I was with my newly diagnosed Type 1. I had to make dosing decisions to keep her alive; too much and she could die, too little and she could also die. The Pediatric Endocrinologist, although wonderful with Walker and extremely knowledgable, did an even better job at scaring the living hell out of me. “We want you to be scared, because this is life or death. You SHOULD be scared.” were the words I remember him saying to me. Well, sir, job well done.
And it’s not as if I was a newbie. I had been a partner to a Type 1 for 13 years. My aunt had Type 1. I knew better than most what this life entailed. And yet I was STILL scared. I wonder what it must be like for those parents with no history of diabetes, no clue what’s in store for them. Are they blissfully unaware? Are the gasping for air? I imagine it must be the latter. How could it be anything but? Most families aren’t as fortunate as we were. Most parents have watched their little ones waste away, wondering the cause and getting the run-around from doctors. Or worse, the child is so severely ill they have lost consciousness, near coma, or so sick they get taken by ambulance or helicopter to a trauma hospital. Thankfully, both Ollie and Walker weren’t so extremely sick at diagnosis. But I was no less scared for what was to come.
Even though I was surrounded by a strong family support and friends who would do anything to help, I felt alone. Alone and scared. I couldn’t let Walker out of my sight for any more than a couple minutes at a time for fear of something going wrong. I felt like I was suffocating.
And then, as if someone threw me a life preserver, I met another Type 1 mom. It was completely by chance that we had both volunteered to bring breakfast to the teachers during their in-service week. We had just come back to Colorado from Maine, and Walker and Ollie were days from starting school. My anxiety was at its peak with the anticipation of Walker going off to kindergarten. Somehow this mom and I started talking, and for the life of me I can’t remember who brought it up first, but we discovered both our girls had Type 1. What are the chances, in a school of 500 children, the only two Type 1 moms signed up for the same volunteer shift? I think I may have started to cry. Finally, there was someone who knew what I was going through. We talked for hours. I discovered her daughter was also 5 when she was diagnosed, and at the time getting ready to start 4th grade. She was a light of hope. She gave me advice on letting Walker go off to school. We talked about doctors and medicine, and school lunches and 504s. But most importantly she just knew what I was going through. We instantly became friends.
I’m not sure if Courtney knows just how life changing our friendship has been. She came into my life during my most fragile state, and shared her strength with me. Not only do we have a lot in common, she’s just a genuinely wonderful person. I’m so grateful for her.
