(Apologies for some bad language… Maybe)
It’s 1.30am. Friday Night. I should be in bed, sleeping, getting ready for a busy Saturday with the kids. Instead, I am here, writing, as it is one of the only things that helps keeping my mind busy.
I am not coping.
Maybe it is because we’re nearing the two year anniversary of the diagnosis.
Maybe it is because we are going to the hospital for tests again next week.
Maybe it’s because I have read so many fucking horrible stories lately.
But I am not coping.
It is as if I have been hit by this wave of realization – Diabetes fucking SUCKS.
I love that girl so much it hurts way more than it is meant to. And I am not making anything better by overthinking and overworrying.
The other day she came home and told me they had been playing at school and one girl said “Let’s pretend you died from Diabetes.” And I thought “Well, she can fuck off.” Obviously I didn’t mean that, but what DO you say to a five year old when she asks if her illness can kill her, when you know so well that it most certainly can? I make a point out of never lying to my children (unless it’s things like Father Christmas and whether certain vegetables taste great.), but fuck it – where is my guidance?
I am so afraid that she is going to die. For about a week now, I have been looking at her, loving every minute with her, because I am so fucking afraid she is going to die. Not from a car crash, not from old age, but from this pathetic excuse of a disease.
We are doing everything we can, trying to stay on top of it and managing her blood glucose levels. We are human, so we make mistakes, but we are trying harder every day. And it is fucking hard. And I am SO angry. And I am also angry because last time we went to an appointment the nurse was really proud of us and said we are doing an amazing job and that so many parents just don’t care enough and let their kids’ levels go all over the place without concern. And that pisses me off, too.
She is the nicest girl in the world. I mean, everything she does is out of the goodness in her heart – she goes to school and plays with the kids who doesn’t have anyone to play with, she loves unconditionally and equally everyone around her – and she loves loving. There is no one nicer. She doesn’t deserve this. Nobody does.
It’s the middle of the night and I am sitting up, trying to write down how I feel. Partly hyper-ventilating and partly pausing to have a cry. How did I end up like this? Why has it suddenly hit me? Am I having a delayed reaction, or what is this? We were never offered counselling when she first was diagnosed, only asked to ask questions if we had them.
I want to call up somebody and talk, but I don’t know what to say or how to say it, and honestly, the “It will all be good” doesn’t suit me right now. I want to wake Simon up and use him as a punching bag, but if we’re both a mess we’re no good for anyone. I want to lie down next to her and just cuddle, but I already tried that, and my crying woke her up.
It hurts. I am not coping. I need help.
A childhood friend of mine has Diabetes, and growing up we spent a lot of time together. I knew the basics of it through her, but never how deep it goes – the details and worries that come with it. Next time I see her mum, I want to give her a massive hug and tell her she’s my hero for having lived through this. I would probably cry, too.
We have a meeting at the hospital on Tuesday. Then I will ask for counselling, because I know they have the resources there. I need help coping, I need someone to talk to who won’t just say: “It will be okay.”
But for now, it is 2am at night and I am not coping.
(To anyone who may read this and get worried. Please, if you read this and think it sucks being us and that you wish we didn’t have to go through this, please go to our fundraising page and leave a small donation, one day there may be no more worried-sick mums like me because we have found a cure together. Click this link to get to our fundraising page.)
(Oh, and to my Mum and others who may feel helpless because you want to be there for me; I know. I know. And I love you thoroughly.)