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It’s the fifth annual Diabetes Blog Week, with thanks to the lovely Karen Graffeo from Bitter~Sweet Diabetes. Today it’s diabetes in pictures. Come back tomorrow for the last instalment, and in the meantime, check out #DBlogWeek and follow along!
It’s Saturday and this morning, I had to work for a short while at a diabetes event. And when I was done, there was only one way to celebrate the real start of the weekend. With these:
A new cafe has opened up in my ‘hood serving amazingly good coffee and this fabulous dish. Yes – the doughcakes are delicious. They’re fluffy and light and filled with strawberry jam, which oozes out onto the serving board in a most pleasing way. But the most exciting thing? The bacon ice cream. Yes. Bacon. Ice. Cream.
Has there ever been a better nod to the DOC than this very dish? The only way it could be better if it was served up by unicorns.
So yes. I can eat that, and thanks to that nifty little pump thing, insulin takes care of all the carbs.
There seems to be a little bit of a theme to my Saturday Snaps for Diabetes Blog Week. Last time this was the prompt, I wrote (and snapped) about cupcakes. Apparently, when it comes to pictures of diabetes, it’s all about the food for me!
REBECCA
Being a single mum is a lot like living with Diabetes – yes it can be tough, but also very rewarding – especially when you are in control!
Being both has certainly proven to be challenging – but if anything – 28 years of T1D has been a great training ground in showing me what I am capable of, and giving me the resilience I have needed lately. I know what I am capable of – and I know I can conquer this too.
You can follow Rebecca on Twitter here.
Diabetes Tales is a new thing I’m trying out at Diabetogenic. If you’re interested in taking part, let me know!
We have two dogs and one cat. They are fluffy, cute and very much part of our family. And while I like to think that they are wonder animals, they’re really not. Bella, the Maltese/poodle cross used to sleep under the coffee table and every time she woke up, hit her head. She did this for three years. Until we got rid of the coffee table. Jasper, who is getting old now, has only one thing on his mind – food. He’ll eat anything, including the green leaves at the top of a strawberry and the watermelon rind. Cherry the cat is, as most cats, quite brilliant, and manages her staff (the three humans of the house) in typical cat aloofness with a side of purring cuddles thrown in so we remember how much we love her.
Gorgeous? Yes. Smart? Not so much.
For years of I’ve heard stories of dogs and cats that can sense if their owners’ BGL is dropping. Clever hypo alert dogs are being used by people with impaired hypo awareness to notify them of undetected lows. I’d read these stories. And then think of our little pets whose skills don’t go much beyond sleeping, eating and looking cute. I was resigned to the fact that none of our pets would save me in a sticky situation. Except, I think that the other night, Jasper may have done just that.
Until recently, Jasper slept at the end of the bed. A new, higher mattress and his old age have meant that jumping up was becoming harder and harder. Instead of effortlessly leaping up, he would run from side to side of the bed, front paws on the mattress, his boofy head popping up, looking a little like a meerkat as he waited for one of the humans to lift him up. After getting sick and tired of this routine, we bought him a bed and he now sleeps in a corner of the room.
The other night, I put myself to bed early and promptly fell asleep. After about an hour, I stirred because Jasper was doing his meerkat impersonation, but only on my side of the bed. Suddenly I felt him gently tapping at me. I told him to leave me alone and go back to his bed. But he refused. Dozing in and out of sleep, I could feel his paw on my arm and then he stared whining.
Finally, wide awake and annoyed at being woken, I started to get out of bed, thinking he needed to be let out or wanted his water bowl filled. As soon as I stood up, it hit me. I was low. Really low. I slumped back on the bed and grabbed the lolly jar from the bedside table and threw down a handful of jelly snakes. Jasper sat down at my feet, watching me earnestly. As I started to feel a little less woozy and could sense my BGLs coming up, Jasper padded back over to his bed, got himself comfortable and fell back asleep.
I ate a couple more jelly snakes and checked my BGL. It was back in range. I could hear him snoring gently in his corner and ten minutes later, as I started falling back asleep, I thought that maybe he is a wonderdog after all.
Jasper the Wonderdog
The other day, I visited my daughter’s classroom because she wanted to show me some work she had on display. This term, the class has been speaking about healthy minds and bodies and one of the activities was to draw a poster about a magic medicine of their own invention.
There was hers: colourful and bright, beautifully drawn, neat handwriting. This cure-all had the ability to get rid of pimples, chicken pox and under-eye bags. All by just adding water! Her medicine comes in a variety of flavours and offers a money back guarantee if you are not satisfied with the results. Also, it is recommended by doctors. And Prince Harry. Don’t ask – I couldn’t even hazard a guess why!
I was chuckling away at the before and after pictures she’d drawn (I think that the developers of this particular preparation are more Ponds Institute rather than CSIRO) when I saw something extra she had added.
There, in a break out box was an extra special cure. This magic medicine will also cure diabetes – type 1 and type 2 (she’s nothing if not inclusive). I looked at it and smiled, my heart breaking a little. No other kid had added anything about curing a parent’s broken body. But my little girl had. Because diabetes lives with us and she would like to be able to fix it.
So she did. In a magic medicine of her own creation, she cured diabetes (as well as the dark circles under my eyes). All this with Prince Harry’s endorsement. What a kid!
It’s Friday! Here’s some The Eastbeats for your listening and dancing pleasure!
MIMI
I’m Mimi.
Daughter. Sister. Granddaughter. Friend.
Wannabe vet & farmer.
Frustrated horse rider.
Reluctant pianist.
Enthusiastic singer.
Elegant ballerina.
Thrill seeker.
Animal lover.
Trainee pancreas.
Which is the last thing you need to know about me. Because I’m not just a T1D diagnosis.
I’m a 10yo girl.
Diabetes Tales is a new thing I’m trying out at Diabetogenic. If you’re interested in taking part, let me know!
Today is Diabetes Art Day. The last time I took part in Diabetes Art Day was in 2012 when, instead of making art, I looked at it. We were in Rome and spent the day wandering around the Sistine Chapel. But this year I decided that it was time to actually produce something. I’m not a great artist. In fact, our daughter overtook my drawing abilities when she was about…oh, maybe 12 months old. However, Diabetes Art Day isn’t about producing perfect works of art. It’s about thinking about how diabetes can be represented in ways other than words (I kinda missed the brief as you will see below).
So in an endeavour to do something quiet and cool (and indoors) to escape yesterday’s sweltering heat, my family sat around our kitchen table and made some art. Out came coloured paper, crayons, textas, colouring pencils, stencils, stamps and anything else in the craft basket that looked like it might be fun.
And then we drew and collaged and stamped. I decided to use lots of different colours and place the blue circle over the top. I liked the idea of a rainbow-esque kaleidoscope of bright and not-so-bright colours because to me, that’s how diabetes is. And while the elusive pot of gold at the end of the rainbow may be a cure, there is still hope in between even if we never actually find it.
Hope. For me, there always needs to be hope….
And the kiddo and Aaron came up with these gorgeous pieces.
Is that a Twitter bird I can see?
More colours and a blue disc of hope.
So, here is our family’s contribution to Diabetes Art Day. I’m going to frame the pictures and put them up in my office so that I can be reminded that sometimes it helps to look at diabetes in a different way.
Postscript:
And then I got a little carried away with the stamps and did this:
Follow Diabetes Art Day on Twitter: #DArtDay
This week, the new school year starts for many kids and teens in Australia. I proudly watched our big nine-year-old walk into her new classroom – seemingly confident and secure. As parents, we know that with each passing year, we have to hand over a little responsibility as our kids grow up. We need to foster their independence and celebrate it, even at times when we want to bundle them up and try to protect them from the big bad world.
Today, my dear friend Catherine Forbes, writes about how her family is navigating independence with their fifteen year-old daughter who just happens to have type 1 diabetes. I love Cath’s attitude and approach because raising her beautiful girl isn’t about diabetes. It’s about helping her daughter be the best person she can be. Diabetes or not, I think this is relevant to all of us. Thanks for writing, Cath.
One of the most amazing things about watching your child grow up is seeing them take on their own responsibilities and realising that, even without you, they will thrive. It’s no different when your child has type 1 diabetes.
For the past ten years, it’s been my job to look after my daughter; to keep her safe; to keep her alive. I’ve been the one testing, injecting, doing site changes, making adjustments and going to appointments. I’ve been the one checking the carb count in every piece of food that she eats. I’ve been the one nagging. I’ve been her carer – and it’s been the most important job that I have ever done. Sometimes, it’s extremely difficult to let go of that. It becomes our identifier. It’s who we are.
Cath and her daughter
But, I’m here to tell you that ‘letting go’ is so worth it, so rewarding and, ultimately, the best possible thing that you can do for your child.
Now, I’m not talking about handing everything over to them and walking away. That would be a disaster. What I’m talking about is slowly letting go of the control that we have, allowing them to make their own decisions and their own mistakes. Allowing them to learn how to look after themselves safely for the rest of their lives.
Let’s face it; as much as we joke about them having to build a granny flat for us when they move out, the reality is that they are likely to be living on their own at some stage. Possibly living with friends or a partner. And certainly – not with us. We want them to be confident and competent in their own care. We want them to know what to do in any given situation. And we want them to live happy lives.
Twelve months ago, we began consciously working on this transition time with our daughter. She was 14 years old and had just been selected to tour the United Kingdom and France with her school netball team. Even though she would have teachers with her for the tour, we wanted her to be confident enough to look after herself while she was away. I made sure that she knew that I was there for her if she needed me and, nervously, handed over the responsibility for testing, carb counting and bolusing her insulin. I did not ask. I did not nag. I cut back on the night time testing.
I admit to you all that, as we approached her quarterly visit to Diabetes Clinic, I feared that we would see the worst HbA1c ever. It was a tough lesson – but also one of the proudest moments of my life – when she presented her best result EVER. She had taken control. She had stepped up. She had set her own alarms to test during the night or she had asked me to check on her. She had worn her Dexcom CGM and taken great interest in the effect of different foods and activity on her blood glucose levels. Essentially, she was doing this on her own.
Cath’s daughter at Stonehenge
When September rolled around and we waved her and her school mates goodbye, we knew that she was going to be just fine. And, more importantly, SHE knew that she was going to be just fine. For almost three weeks, I did not know her levels – not one of them. I didn’t know what she ate or what activity she was dealing with. And, when we spoke via Skype, diabetes was not mentioned once. She told me about her adventures and the people that she had met. It was magical. A huge turning point.
Now, she is still driving her own diabetes management. Several weeks ago, she told me that she wanted a pump holiday. She asked me for guidance and I showed her what needed to be done. In the past, her “holidays” have barely lasted a week. Now, with her in the driver’s seat, she is entering week four on multiple daily injections and she is doing great. I don’t know what all her levels have been but she is happy with them and that’s all that matters. I see her testing. I see her injecting. I know that she is going to be just fine.
I know some remarkable and inspirational young people who just happen to live with diabetes – and I know that my daughter will be in good company in this community. She too will be an amazing young person – taking life by the horns and doing whatever she chooses. Diabetes is just a tiny part of the incredible woman that she is.
Catherine Forbes is a mother, advocate, volunteer and peer support mentor. You can follow her on Twitter here.
I have a significant birthday coming up. I’m turning 40 tomorrow which, when I mention it, is generally met by people either speaking in hushed tones (‘Are you okay about it?’) or high-fiving and hugging me (‘You go girl!’).
I am okay with it and in all honesty, hitting the big four-oh hasn’t been something that has freaked me out or filled me with dread. I think about how I was when I was 20 or 25 or even 30 and I know that I’m proud of the person I am now. I’m comfortable in my skin.
I also have my 15 year wedding anniversary coming up. In times when we’re told that the marriages last an average 8.7 years, it feels good to cross off this milestone.
As much as birthdays and wedding anniversaries should be celebrated (I’m a big believer in cake, cards and carats) I’m actually finding that it’s actually my diabetes anniversaries that are becoming more and more meaningful.
This year, I ticked the fifteen years with diabetes box. I look in awe at friends who have had diabetes for many more years and at Kellion medallists who have lived lifetimes with the condition. But reaching fifteen years and doing a quick check of how this condition has affected my life leaves me with mixed emotions.
There is satisfaction that my annual complications screening checks come back with favourable results. Even the six-monthly visits to the ophthalmologist have become bearable – or at least, less traumatic – because the reports from my lovely doctor have been positive. Cataracts notwithstanding, there doesn’t seem to be any significant diabetes-related damage at the back of my eyes.
The way that my hypos have changed over recent years doesn’t leave me feeling quite so confident and self-assured. I am concerned about the times I’ve needed assistance, and with the white out hypos where I have lost significant chunks of time.
And then there are the things that lurk in the back of my mind, pushed away and only allowed to come out in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep, or in moments of surprise when I’ve forgotten to keep them hidden. Things like worrying about reduced life-expectancy or becoming reliant on my family for my care. And fear that despite common sense and what I’ve been told that it really is because of diabetes that I have miscarried three times.
But mostly, there is fist pumping when I think of how diabetes hasn’t stopped me from doing things; nor has it decided how I will live my life.
So I’m planning on big celebrations for turning 40 – it should be celebrated and not with any of this ’40 is the new 30’ crap. But with acknowledgement and some pride of who I am, what I have achieved and the wonderful people I have around me who fill my life with love and happiness. I’ll celebrate the places I’ve been and look to the places I’m going. And I will also acknowledge that in over 15 of the 40 I’m celebrating, I’ve done it all despite diabetes.
Starting birthday celebrations a couple of days earlier thanks to the waiters at our favourite cafe who surprised us with a sparkling tiramisu!
I have one sister. She is younger than me and much, much smarter. She also is able to wear yellow shoes and look elegant and stylish – something that I am yet to manage without looking like Donald Duck.
Actually, her style is something that is enviable. Earlier this year, she moved back into her newly renovated home. This may sound unremarkable, but the way she managed to pull together everything in a timely and on budget way is testament to her super organisation skills. Now, she has a home that is perfect for her in every way because she’s considered how all aspects of its design need to work with her. It’s light, bright and airy and a perfect showcase for the beautiful things she’s collected in her travel to over 48 countries. Everything has a place and every bit of space has been used perfectly.
I guess that now she’s moved in she’ll never be leaving!
That’s part of the appeal of doing something exactly the way you want. She designed the extension and renovation to work with her life. Her house and garden are low maintenance and easy to live in. There are open spaces and a kitchen with wide benches for the meals she makes for friends and families (and birthday cakes she makes for her ridiculously fortunate niece!). Everything works because she was able to plan it from the beginning, keep an eye on it throughout the build and then put the finishing touches on it herself once she moved in. When things didn’t go to plan or there was a problem, she worked through it with her builder and changed the plans to suit. But she never lost sight of what it was that she wanted and what she needed. It has her name stamped all over it!
I’m really trying that philosophy with my diabetes at the moment. I’ve set some goals that are right for me and, I believe, achievable. I’m keeping an eye on things and using the results I’m getting to make plans and make changes. When I’m thrown a curve ball (AKA three overnight hypos in a row) I make changes – but I keep the goals I’m working towards at the back of my mind. I’m doing things the way that work for me, fit in with my at-the-moment-crazy life and don’t get stressed if I need to make a slight change to things.
So far, things are working okay (albeit the three nights in a row hypos). I’m relaxed because I’m looking big picture, not at tiny results. A lousy day of numbers is but a lousy day – not a long term indication. Stopping, regrouping and taking stock regularly help.
So while the end game for me is not a beautiful house it is diabetes managed in a way that makes it easy for me to breathe. And that’s a good thing.
Sisters
Diabetogenic 
