Grounded Flight

Seen on a military base in Oklahoma:

Louisiana

I went to Louisiana recently, for the very first time.  And this is what I saw along the way...

Oklahoma/Texas border

 

Eastern Lousiana

Black (something or other) Bog

so anyway....

I haven't posted that much lately.  I've been really busy.  There's that thesis stuff, and my husband-moving-to-another-state stuff... but wait!  There's more!

At the end of April we traveled to Houston, TX so that Alexander could see his specialists at Texas Children's Hospital.  That went really, really well.  "I could cry" well.

We were supposed to hang out in Texas for a while to see my folks (my mom was down in Fort Worth this month) and then we were supposed to stay in OKC for a couple days to see Anthony.  Something...wasn't quite right with Andrew.  I had my suspicions right before we left for Texas, but I wasn't sure (and Alexander's appointments are scheduled 8 months out) so I went ahead with my trip.  I figured that if the need arose, we WERE going to a Children's Hospital, after all.  It wasn't like we were going to Disney.

So we left on Saturday.  By Tuesday I knew, just knew, that we needed to get back.  I called and made an appointment with our pediatrician and cut the trip short.  I hadn't told Anthony or my mom my suspicions, because I really, really hoped I was wrong.  I just told everyone that we had to get back for an appointment.

Anthony had picked up that something was up (he talked to me later) because beginning Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning, I started giving Andrew lots and lots of hugs.  And I suddenly had lots of secrets for him.  Oh, and I was all of the sudden a "do you have toothpaste breath" fanatic.  I had my reasons.

Well, on Friday several events kinda happened all at once, and the decision was made to leave Alexander and Matthew in OKC with Anthony, while Andrew and I high-tailed it to Kansas for this mystery appointment.  That turned out to be lucky, as unfortunately, I wasn't wrong and it was much easier without the extra children.  I really, really wanted Dr. Haynes to look at me skeptically and say "um... you DO know that's it Hot outside, right?"  That, of course, wasn't the reason that Andrew suddenly was thirsty all the time and was going to the bathroom all the time, and during our trip (Monday night, in fact) he had begun wetting the bed.  And I'd been suddenly in his face all the time because I was checking for ketoacidosis, which I knew was an emergency, and I had strongly suspected diabetes, though I really, really hoped I was wrong.  But I knew, deep down, that I probably wasn't and had even timed his meal so that the blood test that I expected would be the most accurate.

Anyway, Andrew's blood sugar in the pediatrician's office was 495.  There was some debate, I found out later, as to who would be slated with delivering the news, given the history of the other children.  Dr. Haynes did it, and I admit it- I almost cried.  Visions of complications flashed through my head, and I really had to fight hard to keep it together.  He was admitted to Wesley, and his blood sugar stayed at or above 500 until I pointed out that what they were calling "diabetic food" was what we would call "junk food" at our house.  Coincidentally, Dr. Haynes was on call that weekend.  Though the residents scoffed at me, she knows us well and knew that I was probably onto something.  I changed his diet, with her blessing, on Sunday afternoon and his post-meal blood sugar immediately dropped more than 100 points.

Andrew spent 6 days in the hospital.  During that time we walked 14.2 miles (!) around and around (and around) the pediatric floor.  After he was discharged his blood sugar totals immediately improved dramatically, in fact, for a few days they were a little low.  It's almost been 2 weeks now, and his 7-day blood sugar average is a pretty damn good 121.  And, ironically, I haven't changed a thing.  I make exactly the same things I always did, as it's all naturally low-carb.  He takes insulin with meals, and I sometimes have to supplement his meals with a bit of milk for extra carbs, but that's it.

Today is exactly three weeks since we were at Texas Children's Hospital.  In a little more than a month, it would have been 3 years without ANY ER visits.  Alas, that was not to be.  Tonight Matthew had a bad fall on the concrete, and ended up with a concussion.  And with that, I have had all three of my children in three different hospitals in three weeks.

But although it was stressful, there were lots and lots of good points.  Alexander's visit was amazingly good.  Andrew, even with a A1c of 15.3 (wow!) and three days of ~500 blood sugars, never had ketoacidosis and never had a coma and never had... well, anything.  Remarkable.  And my mom was in Texas this month, so she was able to meet Anthony in OKC on Sunday and collect the other children and keep them for a week, so I could just focus on Andrew.  And though Matthew has a concussion, it's mild and there's no fracture and he should be fine with some rest.  It all could have been so bad, and yet it wasn't. 

I think I should buy a lottery ticket!

Are we doing this right?

So, it's been a week.  Two days on our own.

Andrew's blood glucose level has been great since we came home from the hospital.  If anything, sometimes just a little low.  But all in all, great.  The whole time we were in the hospital, we kept getting reassured that everything would be fine, he could still be a kid, etc., etc.

Don't worry, they all said.  It will be a pretty big adjustment, but you'll get through it.  We can help you, they promised.  Don't be afraid, they told us.

So then, we came home.  And....

Life is pretty much exactly the same as it always was.  Andrew has to test his sugar levels, and needs a shot before meals and bed.   That, plus the record-keeping, might take 20 minutes a day.  And that is the full extent of the change in our lifestyle.

Instead of just calculating starches, I calculate whole carbs, all of which has become automatic any more.  We eat the same foods, we do the same things- it's all, more or less, the same as before. 

So I started to wonder... am I doing this right?  Shouldn't it be hard?  But then Andrew and I had a conversation this afternoon, and I asked him how he felt about this.  He looked at me, and said:

"Well, I feel pretty much the same as before, I guess."

No no, I asked.  Are you worried about the diabetes, or does it bother you?  How do you feel about how stuff has changed?

"Nothing has really changed", he said.  "I'm still me, I'm still Andrew.  I just have gadgets and I have to make good food choices now, just like Alexander".

And that's when I knew that yes, I was doing it right.  And as it turns out, I've probably been doing it right all along.

I don't wanna (or, I want to have my cake, eat it too, and still be a size 6)

Moving.

Sucks.

It's not the physical pack-the-boxes stuff that bothers me. While not nearly as fun as a trip to LYS with a pocketful of cash, over the years I have perfected a system for this whole moving-to-a-new-house thing. Armed with sharpies, glue sticks, and a quarter million white note cards, I label every-single-box. The movers, when we have them, aren't allowed to tape a box closed until it has a white card on it. That way I can label the box properly, and include not the room where the item came from, but where it Belongs. It makes the un-packing process easier, and I always know which box has my underwear and which box has my 9x9 baking pan. Which boxes I need to work on Now, and which boxes can be left until I get around to them.

But oh, the Moving. I do hate it so.

While my husband is like english ivy, fraught with wander-lust and always seeking out new places to go, I'm more like a maple tree. I like the view from where I'm at, and could happily stay in one place forever. I already know the crappy things about our current Local Area, and the good things. I really, really like my neighbors and my neighborhood. And I really, really dislike change.

Soon the movers will come and take all my stuff and drive away. Soon my house will have a For Sale sign, and then we'll take it down.

Soon I will have to drive away too, to new neighbors that I might not like, to a new Local Area that has crappy things and good things, and I don't know what they are. Maybe one of the Good things there is one of the Not Good things from here. Or maybe not. I'll figure it out eventually, I'll have to... and I'll probably start to really enjoy the view from where I'm at right before the movers come again.

Bunnicide

Front yard Vista

Windmill

Red

Cerulean

Snoodle