I don't know why I should have to exercise from September to June. Life is just one big treadmill from the start of the school year to the end. I wish I could burn calories driving kids from one appointment to another! I guess I need to go get myself a self-propelled Flintstones car for that to work.
Daniel had his regular endocrinologist appointment yesterday, and his first ophthalmologist appointment today. My husband took Daniel to the endo for the first time. Wouldn't you know it -- because we hadn't been writing down his numbers, just uploading all the info -- their computer wouldn't download anything from Daniel's new glucometer that came with the pump. And then they couldn't access the web site where he had uploaded all his numbers the night before. We didn't print out any reports or charts, thinking that they could just access everything online. Ugh. Lesson learned. Next time we will be better prepared. So the doc couldn't really do much except check his A1c (phooey! 7.7, just like before!) and ask Daniel to email her all the information.
Since he started on the pump, his blood sugar levels have been so much better. I think we kind of got into a lull in the last month or so, and Daniel went for a few weeks without uploading his glucometer to the web site to check for trends. When I looked at his charts last night, I saw that his numbers were trending up again. Time to make some adjustments. It's hard to be vigilant ALL the time. Actually, not all the time. It's hard to remember to be vigilant once a week, to check the numbers, look at the trends. As I said, we're on the school schedule treadmill. Time is a slippery thief, and is almost impossible to catch. All I can think about is, "where are we going today? What's on the agenda? Meetings? Homework? Doctor appointment?" And then I forget other important, but less urgent stuff. Can I blame menopause?
I caught Nora, who is in middle school, a few weeks ago writing out a list for herself before going to bed at night. She was preparing for the next day when she knew she had a lot to take care of. I need to take a page from her book!
Today I took Daniel to the ophthalmologist. His retina, his nerves -- they are fine. But she couldn't get Daniel to see 20/20 in his left eye. We talked about the fact that his A1c was on the high side, and hopefully once we make adjustments to the insulin and we can get that number down, he will be able to bring that eye into better focus.
I'm sad about that eye. Of course, I'm sad about diabetes in general. I try to keep an emotional balance about it all, but that's very difficult. You see, after months and months of crying, I finally came to the realization that although I can support my child and do everything in my power to educate him about his conditions and give him the best medical care possible, I can't change what has happened to him. I can't cure him, and I can't control all his actions. I can't watch and count every carb that passes through his lips because he takes responsibility, as he should, for most of that. I have to take care of him, but at the same time, I have to encourage him to take care of himself.
And I am lucky... Daniel is such a great kid. He wants to take care of himself, to be compliant in his diabetes regimen, to educate himself about what he can and cannot eat because of his celiac.
This brings me back to something that I have to remember every day. Something that is always on my list, but that I don't always think about. It's pretty simple. It's just to be thankful. I send gratitude out to the universe for my wonderful children, with all their talents, abilities, compassion, and joy. Thanks for a supportive, wonderful husband and a strong marriage. Thanks for today. The sun came up, we got out of bed, and started running on our hamster wheel. It's better than the alternative.
Showing posts with label thanks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thanks. Show all posts
Friday, February 20, 2009
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Routine
Sometimes it is hard to come to the computer to write because I don't have anything to say that is IMPORTANT. After all, I'm committing words to paper (screen) for all time and for many eyes, so shouldn't it be IMPORTANT?
But the last few days have been routine. And ROUTINE is not so bad. We had a birthday in the house, yes, and that was and was not out of the ordinary. A full house, a large family -- birthdays are comfortable & familiar, if not routine. I think there's something good to be said for the morning alarm, the balletic timing of school-morning breakfasts, the snippets of NPR on the way to work. Something wonderful and rejuvenating about autumn with its class schedules and coffee breaks.
Maybe ROUTINE has been good because Daniel's sugars have been mostly in range this week (except for the "save-all-my-carbs-for-birthday-ice cream" mistake). ROUTINE has Dominic learning new teachers, new subjects, new routines in grade 1 that exhaust him in ways that a day at the pool can't. ROUTINE even makes middle school bearable for Nora (but there are always jerks in middle school so I'm keeping my fingers crossed).
The routine turning of the year seems to have clicked over one notch away from summer and towards fall, and even the sky was celebrating the sudden change in the air with a riotous, colorful party for sunset. I went outside to pick a few late-summer peppers and tomatoes, and stopped to breathe it all in; the quiet moment in the neighborhood, the changing angles of light. Then the geese were overhead, announcing their southward flight path, calling for attention.
Mary Oliver is probably my favorite poet, she has a way of turning the ordinary into the magical. I have been thinking tonight about her poem, Wild Geese. It goes:
"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things."
That's from her book Dream Work. And tonight, in a routine moment, I fell into a brief state of grace & beauty. Thanks in great part to Mary Oliver, to the raw poetry in the sound of geese, and to a much needed change of season.
But the last few days have been routine. And ROUTINE is not so bad. We had a birthday in the house, yes, and that was and was not out of the ordinary. A full house, a large family -- birthdays are comfortable & familiar, if not routine. I think there's something good to be said for the morning alarm, the balletic timing of school-morning breakfasts, the snippets of NPR on the way to work. Something wonderful and rejuvenating about autumn with its class schedules and coffee breaks.
Maybe ROUTINE has been good because Daniel's sugars have been mostly in range this week (except for the "save-all-my-carbs-for-birthday-ice cream" mistake). ROUTINE has Dominic learning new teachers, new subjects, new routines in grade 1 that exhaust him in ways that a day at the pool can't. ROUTINE even makes middle school bearable for Nora (but there are always jerks in middle school so I'm keeping my fingers crossed).
The routine turning of the year seems to have clicked over one notch away from summer and towards fall, and even the sky was celebrating the sudden change in the air with a riotous, colorful party for sunset. I went outside to pick a few late-summer peppers and tomatoes, and stopped to breathe it all in; the quiet moment in the neighborhood, the changing angles of light. Then the geese were overhead, announcing their southward flight path, calling for attention.
Mary Oliver is probably my favorite poet, she has a way of turning the ordinary into the magical. I have been thinking tonight about her poem, Wild Geese. It goes:
"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things."
That's from her book Dream Work. And tonight, in a routine moment, I fell into a brief state of grace & beauty. Thanks in great part to Mary Oliver, to the raw poetry in the sound of geese, and to a much needed change of season.
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