30 years ago. There we were, our little family of three driving to that big city children's hospital. We were quiet in the car, each of us involved in our own thoughts. Scared. Uncertain. The Husband and I were younger than The Girl is now. I even think at that point I was not even considering that our friends were praying for us. I was in a bit of a shock.
I do remember there was another little girl a bit younger than The Girl who was newly diagnosed about the same time. She was from a city much more north of us and I'm certain her family felt pretty much like ours. There were classes to do from meeting with dieticians, social workers, exercise folks, and others who wanted to "teach" us how to live with diabetes. It was decided that I would stay the whole time while The Husband would drive back and forth. I can remember going into the shower every morning to shower, cry while I did, and come out of there smiling. It seemed important that I be confident. Isn't that how mamas still feel?
I can remember that The Girl and the newly diagnosed girl became acquainted with another little girl patient who was in a wheelchair and had only one leg. The three of them would often roam the halls with the two new diabetics pushing the wheelchair anywhere and everywhere around that hospital. Alone. The three of them. I'm pretty sure that would not be allowed now, and maybe rightly so, but then it was a much needed activity. Not only did they find friendship in each other, those two little diabetic girls got their exercise to lower those blood sugars. See, we were told to bring pajamas only to wear at night so The Girl, even though an admitted patient, looked like any normal child in those halls.
That week we learned words like hypoglycemia, hyperglycemia, glucagon, ketoacidosis, diabetic retinopathy, food exchanges, and so much more. We were taught what to do should a low blood sugar occur. Rules, guidelines, insulins--they were all discussed. It seemed some days unending and overwhelming. The good news is pretty soon, it became a normal.
The Girl's recommended doctor was with a pediatric endocrinologist group and thankfully, the doctor in the group she saw mostly was excellent and became our favorite. Somehow the other night as I lay awake in the middle of the night, I remembered the nurses and an experience. Early on in the first day or so, The Girl had a nurse who was quite matter-of-fact to the point of being almost hateful. Maybe our feelings were very tender, but I think if I remember correctly she was just almost hateful. She was the first or one of the first to introduce the insulin injection and how to do it to The Girl and to me. The Girl had a problem with it and the process and the nurse raised her voice to say that The Girl would HAVE to learn this. I was just a young mama and I knew that to be the truth but I still couldn't feel good about the approach. We only had that particular nurse that once. She was replaced with a nurse who was patient, kind, caring, and just exactly what both The Girl and I needed. She knew how to recognize the fear of new patients. If I recall correctly, she was the day nurse who taught so much for three or four days. When her time off was about to come, she came in to say goodbye and wish The Girl well. At that time, I remember what she said. She relayed that a day after admittance, The Kind Endocrinologist had gathered the nurses together and told them that The Girl looked older than she was and that each of them should not forget that she was only a scared little girl and to deal with her accordingly. I was grateful that he had said that to them and The Girl was sent a "good" nurse who made a difference. More so, I was appreciative that The Kind Endocrinologist recognized fear in a little girl's eyes and respected that fear.
As I look back these 30 years today, really, some days we haven't changed much. The fear still comes in certain forms but with that fear is the confidence in The Great Physician that HE can treat us with kindness, concern, and compassion and that HE can make a difference. I can tell you with certainty that this mama has learned to trust Him more for those needs during the past 30 years and I know that He holds us in the palm of His hand.
Is this experience of a diagnosis the worst thing that could ever happen? Shucks no, but it was the experience that moulded our lives as a family. While it caused fear often, it helped to strengthen us for the future. I think if we look at it closely, we realize that experiences such as these can do that--strengthen for the future. Would I love to repeat the experience? Uh, no thank you.
Whatever your experience today might be that is causing you turmoil, concern, or even fear, know that things will be okay. The Lord has it and us in the palm of HIS hand. Do your best every day. Don't beat yourself up when you wish you had done something different. As I recall something else from that week, we were taught that every day won't be perfect, but that each day begins anew with new opportunities. I will close with a favorite Bible verse that comes to my mind that fits life for us all.
"It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him." Lamentations 3:22-24 KJV
Thanks for enduring my reflections, however odd it has seemed. Sometimes a body just needs to remember where you were and how far you have come. Now let's move on with life and the future!
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