Memories... Diabetes Blog Week

Today's topic...

Click for the Memories - Wednesday 5/15 Link List

Today we’re going to share our most memorable diabetes day. You can take this anywhere.... your or your loved one's diagnosis, a bad low, a bad high, a big success, any day that you’d like to share. (Thanks to Jasmine of Silver-Lined for this topic suggestion.)

I can remember it so well... Our first "fighting low". You know what I'm talking about; the kind of low that makes them fight you. Makes them refuse to drink. The kind that makes you panic and question if you're capable of going for the Glucagon if it comes to that. 

It went a little something like this...

It was summer. Justin and I were in the school's media center folding and labeling the newsletters so that we could get them mailed out. Other than one other mom, who was helping, we were alone.  To be honest, I really didn't know her that well so I am sure it was a shock when I started screaming and my then 8 year old son for no obvious reason. Not obvious to an "outsider" anyways.

I promise I didn't flip out right away, after all, we were at least 7 or so months in and I had this all under control by then, right? **Wishful denial might be more like it**. 

I can see it in my head. Sitting there folding away, the happy little mommy volunteer, looking at her son getting a little pale. 

"Justin, you okay?"

"Justin"

"JusTin" - a little hint of aggravation forming because this is not funny to me. 

"JUSTIN" - dragging him outside to yell because he's just not listening to me.

And the fighting begins...

An eternity passes as a mom fights her 8 year old son. Pleading with him to drink.

Her mind is spinning with what to do next. Do I have the Glucagon? Do I have the cake gel? Do I have it in me to use it? Have I practiced enough?

She's getting madder. Why? The anger can only be out of pure fear.

"Dear God, Justin, drink the juice"

"PLEASE" 

And just as quick as it started it was over. 

Juice was consumed. 

The Mom's heart was broken and full of guilt for yelling. But what else could she do?

She was terrified.

And she will never forget that feeling for as long as she lives.