It's a long story, so you probably better settle in!
Sam was five years old and in kindergarten when the symptoms of diabetes started to present themselves, but we didn't recognize them for what they were. I kept attributing them to other things. For example, Sam was falling asleep on the way home from school. Since it was her first year of being in school all day I just figured she was worn out from all the activity. It didn't dawn on me that by Christmas time she really should have been adjusted to the routine and not so tired. Another thing I noticed that struck me as odd, she began to immediately ask for a snack when we arrived home. Sometimes asking what she could have before she was even out of the car. I remember thinking to myself, "Oh, she is tired and hungry, she does look a little thinner too. I bet she is just having a growth spurt!" She was also having accidents at school, not frequently, but just enough to cause concern. I attributed the accidents to busyness and wanting to play with the kids. That going to the bathroom would be too much trouble because it would tear her away from her friends. By this time I was paying a bit more attention because I felt something was off, but I couldn't pinpoint the problem. I mean, my kid is a little tired and hungrier than usual, that doesn't seem like a big deal. Put her to bed a little earlier and make sure she is getting plenty to eat.
Then at home I noticed she was drinking A LOT! She was constantly complaining of thirst and asking for more to drink. One night she had two glasses of milk and a glass of water with her dinner. Dinner typically takes us less than 30 min, so I thought it was odd, but mostly ignored it. We immediately left for a church activity and upon arrival she told she was really thirsty and asked if she could get a drink out of the water fountain. I remember wondering how on earth she could be thirsty when she had just consumed three glasses at home. She had also been getting up in the night to use the restroom. Sam had never been up in the night to use the restroom since we had potty trained her. This was completely out of the norm for her. These nightly trips to the bathroom quickly became a regular thing. Butch and I both realized something had to be wrong, but these things seem so mild that we just couldn't figure what in the world could be going on.
Finally, sometime around Valentine's Day I remembered something I had read in The Mitford Series, by Jan Karon. This series is about a pastor who suffered from Type 2 diabetes. Whenever his blood sugar was high he had symptoms similar to what Sam was dealing with. I knew enough about type 2 diabetes to know that she didn't have this, but I started to wonder if you had the same symptoms with type 1 diabetes. I did some research and realized it doesn't matter what type of diabetes you have when your blood sugar is high or low we all experience similar symptoms. I knew then that she may have it and we needed to get her checked out. I sent the information to Butch, he agreed and I made a doctor's appointment for the following week.
The thing is, as a mom who doesn't have a medical degree, I began to doubt myself. That Thursday I made Sam's appointment for the following week because they couldn't get us in any sooner. Over the weekend Sam's symptoms didn't seem so bad. She wasn't drinking as much, she wasn't asking for food, and she wasn't falling asleep as easily. I seriously considered cancelling her appointment for the following week thinking I was just being paranoid. As I was sitting there contemplating about canceling this appointment, I remember thinking, "I would rather look stupid" So what if the doctor thinks I am crazy. I needed to know that I was wrong. I needed her to be tested to ease my mind. I just needed to know.
The following week I took Sam to the doctor and asked him to test her for diabetes. I think he looked at me like I had sprouted horns. He remarked that she did look tired and like she had lost her
"sparkle", but it was probably just anemia. I was adamant that she have a test done for diabetes and he agreed to do a basic lab work up that included looking at her blood sugars.
When the results were in they called to let us know that Sam had hyperglycemia and she would need to go to the hospital and see a specialist the next week. I remember the sense of immense relief I felt. It wasn't diabetes, it was just hyperglycemia. I had no idea what that was, but I figured it had to better than diabetes! Later that same day, there was a message on my machine asking me to call the doctors office immediately and not wait until the next business day. I called the nurse back and she informed me that the specialist said I needed to go to the emergency room immediately, today, now! So, I dropped the other three girls off at their godparents home, met Butch and immediately headed for the hospital. As a mom, I was in a panic. I was not told why I needed to go to the hospital, just that I needed to go NOW.
Once we arrived at the ER we checked in, though we couldn't explain to the clerk why we were there. We just informed them that we had been instructed to go immediately. Once we were in a room the doctor came back and examined Sam and even HE was initially unsure why we there. Finally, after he spoke with the doctors that had given the orders for us to go to the emergency room he informed us that Sam had diabetes and they wanted to admit her. Umm, excuse me? I was in shock, my worst fear was a reality.
We spent the next two days in the hospital learning how to care for Sam, while the doctors figured out the proper ratio for her insulin. That first night was rough. It was almost midnight before we got to a room in the diabetic wing. Poor Sam was exhausted, traumatized because they had to do blood work, and starving because we hadn't had dinner and they would only give her meat and cheese. They were figuring out which insulin to give her and how much she would need so she wasn't allowed any carbs.
The next morning after very little sleep and very little time to absorb what this means, no less than 6 doctors came in and discussed with me her diagnosis and why we were in the hospital. Seeing that many doctors walk into your child's hospital room is shocking. I broke down and sobbed in front of a room full of strangers. Did I mention I hate crying in front of people?!
Thankfully, Sam wasn't really sick. The doctors informed me that most kids are in the ICU when they are first diagnosed because they have gone untreated and misdiagnosed for too long. Sam was "lucky" because we caught it early and she didn't NEED to be in the hospital, but her dad and I did need to learn how to care for her. Butch and I spent the next two days learning about type 1 diabetes, how to count carbs, and how to give injections. In fact, the first class we took was on how to give an injection. They do this so that you can immediately begin to give them their insulin shots yourself with a nurse there to help and make sure you are doing it right before going home.
My parents came up and brought her gifts, my pastor stopped in and prayed with her (we were in a class when he stopped by), and an amazing woman who attends my church and also has a daughter with the same condition stopped in and offered us support as well. It was a crazy couple of days and I was tired of the hospital, but I was more terrified of going home. I was worried I would do something wrong or my math would be incorrect and I would kill her. Yes, I was worried that I would kill my own daughter because of my ignorance. I can't begin to describe the stress.
On the second day we left the hospital just before dinner time. Butch was taking Sam home and I was going to stop at the pharmacy to get her presciptions and pick up the other three girls. While at the pharmacy, I still remember the look on the pharmacists face, the sympathy in his eyes, when he asked me "Are you gonna be ok?" I told him yes, but I remember thinking, NO, I am not okay!
I'll be honest that first night at home was rough. When we went to give Sam her injection so she could eat her dinner, she looked at me with tears in those big brown eyes of hers and said, " I thought I was done with the shots?" Five year olds just don't comprehend forever very well and that's when I began to realize that maybe we hadn't prepared Sam as well for going home as well as we had been prepared ourselves. The clincher for me was when she ran across the room yelling at her sister, "No, don't touch those, you'll get diabetes!" She was referring to the Barbies my parents had given her to play with while in the hospital. My heart tore in two when we were told she had diabetes, but it felt like my heart shattered when I heard her yell that. It was a true physical ache I felt in my chest for my child.
To be continued...
