Diabetes. You can go to hell. I don’t write about you much, because I try to put you in the background. I don’t want you to run our lives. I want to just get on with it, and let you be a footnote.
Today I’m upset by you. Fuck you diabetes. I don’t write about you here. I don’t want pity, but I’m angry at you. I’m exhausted by you. I’m tired of waking up to you in the night. Sick to death of forcing my sleepy little girl to drink juice after juice in the dark to get her blood sugar back up to a safe level.
Last night you pushed me too far. You make me argue with my husband. You disturb my other daughter in her sleep. You dropped little L down to 1.9. That’s not OK. It was sheer luck, mother’s instinct, or fate that told me upon going to bed that the usual 3 am check wouldn’t be safe, and that her bedtime level of 5.7 would need a 1:30 am check. THANK GOD I did. 600ml of juice later, and little L saying ‘ENOUGH!’, she was back to 4.2. What happens the time my instinct doesn’t tell me to check her at the ‘right’ time? Two weeks ago she was so low she was shaking and not ‘there’ and I was about to pull out the orange needle in the dark. She was screwed up and tired and headachy with a ‘glucagon hangover’ the whole next day. She slept for hours. LEAVE US ALONE.
I need a break from you. I want a weekend away. I want to go. But I will miss my girl. I want to see her, and be with her, but without this thing in the way. You are in the way. Why can’t YOU go away for the weekend instead?
I know you make her tough, resilient, wise beyond her years, and great with numbers. Whatever. I want her to be a 5 year-old kid, and carefree. Not watchful and wary. Missing out on fun stuff because she has to sit out with a hypo.
Diabetes, go to hell. You are thorn in our lives, and a nightmare in my nights. I’ll probably regret publishing this post, but I feel calmer already. I need to tell everyone what I think of you, because perhaps people don’t realise how much you truly suck.