I made a reservation yesterday at a restaurant down the street for our Sunday Easter Dinner. The 8 of us started this tradition a few years ago, after Speedo's Grammie passed. It's almost always just us, but one time my mother came along as she was recently divorced and another year my 3 sisters, 1 with her brood of children came. We usually ride bikes or walk, depending on how late we're running, but it's really only less than 1/2 a mile away. One year we rode bikes, I was 7 months pregnant with #6! With a large tummy and a full one after a big meal, it was almost impossible to ride that bike home!
When Speedo reminded me to call the restaurant to reserve us a table, the first thing that came to my mind is a still image of us around a round table. Betsey is next to me, Speedo a couple seats around the table, and I have my arms in the air, one hand cautiously holding a vial of insulin, the other a syringe. The look on my face is almost panic.
Did we look that unsure, that scared and nervous to an outsider? The couple at the next table over? The family across from us? I don't know. All I remember from that Easter was the little bit of panic I felt about bringing Betsey out to eat, to a restaurant, making sure we remembered everything she needed. At the time, we didn't live here, so close to the restaurant, but a mere 7 minutes farther.
But we were only 1 month into her diagnosis. We brought with us a notebook, a 5 subject notebook, that we recorded what she ate, the time she ate, the carbs consumed, the insulin given and at what time. And we called Yale daily. We'd go over that notebook page for the day with them, discuss what to give her for insulin the next morning, the next night, all the while trying to make sure her carb intake was about the same at each meal, each snack so her insulin doses could be properly figured out. She was still in the "honeymoon" phase - a period of time, usually about a year after diagnosis, where the body is still making insulin, but not in enough quantities to properly aid the body. And nothing consistent, so dosing through injections was a tricky thing. And I knew nothing.
Nothing.
I think we brought about 4 syringes with us. We only needed 1. We had the 2 vials of insulin; humulin, the long lasting to cover her through the night and humalog, the fast acting to cover the carbs she'd be eating right away.
1 shot. 1 syringe. 4 extra just in case.
Well it was a good thing we had the just in case-ers. I could not draw up her dosage properly. I broke one of the needles off, I dropped another, and the 3rd try I knew I had to get it otherwise we'd be really pushing our luck. Even though the drive home was not far, I felt like I needed to have that last syringe available in the event of an emergency.
But the 3rd didn't do it. I don't remember what I did. Maybe I didn't know which of the vials I had drawn from for the first dose... I forget honestly. But I was always afraid of giving too much of one, and not enough of the other.
I was getting so frustrated, scared, angry... worrying about offending people with the needle, what would they be thinking I was doing? Giving her the shot in public like that, another child seeing... Betsey's embarrassment over having to expose her arm for a shot.... all just to eat. Betsey's mother was creating a scene without even trying. My face was flushed, my hands sweaty.
Speedo convinced me to calm down. Think. Just think and do it.
Now, if Betsey needs a shot or to bolus with her pump or to test, we do it whenever, wherever, no matter. It's like breastfeeding had become to me; I have more than 8 years breastfeeding under my belt and after #3 I would nurse anywhere without even thinking about it; making dinner, grocery shopping, vacuuming, at any doctor's office, restaurant, playdate, anywhere. Except driving.
Of course we got it done. And we ate. We had our first Easter with Betsey as a diabetic. Seems silly. But there's a divide in our lives, for all of us, with events.
Before the wedding. Before the engagement. Before the move. Before the baby.
Before diabetes.
Most of what we talk about Betsey is as a diabetic. But on occassion, the stories come up from before March 13, 2005, and as we say, "Before Betsey had diabetes."
We all are very much looking forward to Easter Sunday this weekend and our little family tradition. It's simple. It's fun. It's easy and it's a great memory each time. Each year it's a little sweeter.
No pun intended.
(That cartoon at the top, by the way, is one of my favorites! It makes me giggle every time I see it.)
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