The D-Monster and how it’s screwing up my relationship with my daughter

Let me just start by saying…

Diabetes sucks. Hard.

Now that’s out of the way.

Princess Punk is 20. She is still struggling with her compliance and is not doing well. Her numbers are high most of the time and as a result, she feels like crap most of the time. Also, because her numbers are so high most of the time, when she’s in a normal range, she starts to feel low. Normal blood sugar for her is between 70 and 150. Below 70 is a low that she needs to treat, above 150 is a high that she needs to treat. When she’s low, she gets shaky, loses any color in her skin, gets dizzy and cognitively she slows down a bit. She’s kind of spacy? When she’s high, she’s grouchy, nauseous, thirsty and has to pee all the time. If she gets too low she could pass out or even go into a coma. If she gets too high, she could go into what’s called diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA).

I try not to talk about work on my blog. But I will say that one of the aspects of my job is to read medical records of people with serious health issues. Like the 32yo poorly-controlled diabetic that has to be on dialysis due to kidney failure. Or the 23yo who is in the ER several times a month due to DKA and gastroparesis (persistent vomiting due to the stomach being unable to empty completely – also a potential consequence of high blood sugar). So I frequently see the end-result of poorly controlled type I diabetes.

It is terrifying. Especially since The Princess’s numbers are just as bad, if not WORSE than some of the records I read.

Her endocrinologist is flummoxed. As I mentioned in my last D-Monster post, there are a number of things besides in addition to  poor compliance that could result in numbers like hers. Problem is, there’s no way to figure out what that might be until she can provide the doctor with some data so he can check out her actual response to insulin at different times of the day. The amount of insulin The Princess needs over the course of a day varies wildly, but since she hasn’t been testing or bolusing (when she gives herself insulin for a high blood sugar or for the carbs she eats) reliably, there’s no real way to figure out what she needs and when.

Here’s the thing… Princess Punk doesn’t want any help. Or at least, not from me. And I know why. I use most of my breath while harassing her about testing her blood sugar and covering her carbs talking about all the horrible things that are going to happen to her if she doesn’t get her shit together.

I’m doing it wrong.

She had a couple of pieces of pizza the other night. When I asked her if she covered it, she said yeah and then I asked her how much she was counting (she takes a certain amount of insulin for every carbohydrate she eats). She said, “I dunno, I think 40.” She had eaten 2 1/2 pieces of an 18″ pizza. I spluttered and told her I was going to look it up. She was in fact, incorrect and 40 grams of carbs was about half the amount she ate and therefore she administered only half the amount of insulin she was supposed to get. When I told her this she got huffy with me and went into My Mom’s room. I stood in the kitchen and cried for a minute. Then I got my bag, walked into My Mom’s room and announced,

“I’m going to bed because I can’t sit here and watch you kill yourself anymore.”

And I went upstairs. Several minutes later, I hear The Princess downstairs sobbing to My Mom about how she couldn’t believe I said that and that she was trying.

And I came downstairs. The ensuing screaming match can not be repeated, only to say that I said some really horrible things that came down to me blaming her (or at least sounding like I was blaming her) for her diabetes. I believe the words, “I’m not going to outlive my child!” were expelled from my mouth more than once. After the screaming came a furious text message argument in which The Princess maintained that she needed to deal with this herself and she didn’t want my help.

She was right.

A little later, My Mom says, “You know, she is absolutely terrified.”

I didn’t.

I got so caught up in my own fears that I completely neglected to think that Princess Punk, the one who has to deal with this disease face-to-face, every single day, might be a little scared too. And I told her she’s killing herself. I told my daughter, my 20-year-old daughter that she was going to die and it was her fault.

She’s still a kid. But she’s also an adult. And I can’t do this for her. I have to trust that she will get it together and do it for herself. And I shouldn’t butt in. Because she doesn’t need me telling her what to do and that if she doesn’t she’s going to die. I’ve been doing that for ten years, that’s obviously not the way to go. What she needs me to be is a mom she can go to and tell she’s scared without me making it worse. She needs support. She needs love. She needs understanding. She needs me to be there for her not do it for her. A co-worker likened it to being the parent of an addict. Your child is in a life-threatening situation and only they can get themselves out of it. While you stand by helplessly and hope they will. To me, that’s the worst feeling in the world.

Despite how I’m feeling, she is objectively not in immediate danger. Dr. Gruff did not freak out. He did not advise her to check herself in to the hospital. He did not advise her what the signs of kidney failure are. He didn’t even think lab work was necessary at this visit. While it’s likely she HAS experienced some damage to her body (eyes, kidneys, heart, nerves, etc.), if she can deal with this and, with the help of trained medical professionals (i.e. not me), start getting it under control, any damage is reversible.

I still dream about going to her funeral.

This is HER disease. I need to let HER deal with it.

As much as that is killing ME.

 

And the struggle persists.

Princess Punk had her endocrinology appointment yesterday.

It did not go well.

I’ll be going through Princess Punk’s update soon enough, but I’ll give you a quick summary… She’s 20. She’s a Sophomore in college. She’s living in a campus apartment. She works and goes to school full time and is a starter on the Varsity soccer team. Soccer season just ended so she’s working more and we still hardly ever see her. So I was looking forward to spending some time with her yesterday.

Thanks to http://www.t1international.com for the picture

She has lost about 30lb in the past 6 months or so. Which she was very excited about. Turns out, she has probably been losing the weight because her blood sugar has been so high that she’s basically starving to death. You see, in type 1 diabetics, the pancreas stops producing insulin. VERY simply and crudely explained (because I’d need a degree in chemistry to really explain it decently), insulin is the chemical that allows the cells in your body to take in sugar. So without insulin, the sugar stays in the blood stream and doesn’t get taken into the cells where it is needed to nourish the body. With type 2 diabetes, the pancreas still works and the insulin is there, but some of the receptors on the cells are screwed up so the sugar can’t get into the cells. Her average blood glucose level of about 350 mg/dl (based on her A1C which was so high they couldn’t actually measure it) means that she has all this sugar in her blood stream that is not getting into the cells where it is needed to power her body, build muscle, grow, etc. This is why The Princess is only 5’3.3” tall. Her peds endocrinologist told us that since she was diagnosed at age 9 and had probably had active disease for several months, she had likely lost a few inches of growth time when her sugar was completely uncontrolled. Now? It’s worse. She’s not taking care of it like she should be. But even so, her endocrinologist (let’s call him Dr. Gruff) is flummoxed and said that there’s no way that someone at her weight with the amount of insulin he can see that she is taking (there’s a record of it in her pump) should have an A1C that is THAT high. So something else is going on. Because Princess’s poor compliance wasn’t bad enough.

There are three possible contributing factors (besides her needing to get her shit together) that I’ve hypothesized based on the past 10 years experience with this disease.

You can’t get there from here…

Princess Punk is scarred. Or at least her arms are. She uses her arms almost exclusively for infusion sites for her pump and has been doing so for most of the decade she has had this disease. Problem with sticking yourself over and over and over again in the same spot for 10 years? Scar tissue builds up. Insulin doesn’t like scar tissue. Think of it like the insulin has to drive through the pump into her arm and into the blood stream. With all the scarring, it’s like a washboarded dirt road with crater-sized potholes and the shoulder washed away. So the insulin that she is getting through her pump and into her arm isn’t actually getting to where it needs to go. So she’s going to start using her stomach and her butt as infusion sites now. That might help.

The new pump is not working correctly. It looks like a smart phone about the size of a deck of cards. She got it a few months ago and started using it without waiting to talk to the people at Medtronic, the pump makers, to show her how to set it up and everything correctly. Because she is a stubborn asshole sometimes and she thinks she knows everything about this disease just because she’s had it ten years. She also got a continuous glucose monitor (CGM) which we have yet been able to get to work. It could be broken, or she could be using it wrong. Dr. Gruff texted the pump educator from Medtronic while we were in his office. She will be contacting me (NOT The Princess) to set up an appointment to get the pump and CGM up and running to The Princess’s best advantage. That might help too.

Princess Punk has developed Type 2 diabetes to join forces with the Type 1. It can happen. It does happen and The Princess is at high risk genetically. This would suck. BIG TIME. Princess would probably have to take another medication or two and watch her diet and exercise religiously. And that still might not be enough. But that’s something to worry about when the other stuff doesn’t work. Which is what I keep telling myself.

Unfortunately, given the fact that I have a raging anxiety disorder and the fact that I love my daughter more than anything, telling myself not to worry is a pointless endeavor. I don’t want to outlive my babygirl. This is serious. I am not exaggerating when I say that if this doesn’t improve precipitously, she will die. Period. I’m not saying that her health is going to decline and she’ll be in bad shape in another decade. I mean that at the rate she is at right now, she could conceivably go into kidney failure within months. Now, if we can figure this out quickly and get some adjustments made, maybe she will be able to reverse the damage that has already been done. But it’s going to take a lot of effort, a little bit of luck and a LOT of prayers. And I don’t know if The Princess is going to do her part. And her part is the big one. No one else can do it for her. She keeps saying, “I’ve had this disease for ten years, I know what I’m supposed to do. I know what the consequences are.” But I don’t see how she possibly does. Unless she is suicidal. Because she’s going to fucking die if this doesn’t get better really quickly. And I’m terrified.

I want this shirt

Take THAT D-Monster!

A1C is down to 8.5!

A little ways to go from our goal of 7, but still…

Kiss my ass Diabetes.

My “Where the eff have I been?” post, Part I – The D-Monster

Where have I been you ask?

Right here. All along. Just… Not HERE.

This summer has been… Challenging.

We spent much of the summer trying to get The D-Monster under control. We’ve still got a ways to go, but I am so proud of her. She is truly being compliant and working hard at maintaining a healthy blood sugar. The D-Monster however, is a bastard and Princess Punk is now experiencing lows on a daily basis. She was 38 during practice last week. TWICE. Like she tested and she was 38 and she had her 15 grams of carbohydrates and waited 15 minutes and tested again and she was STILL 38. At 38, she can barely walk, yet her coach still had to take her off the field because she kept playing. She’s proud about making Varsity and even more excited about starting, but she is continuing to try to impress her coach so he keeps playing her and as a result she plays through the nausea and shakiness that comes with the lows. So now I get to worry about her passing out or having a seizure or something because her sugar gets too low and she’s too hard-headed to stop playing. Fortunately, her coach is on the ball and noticed she wasn’t doing too well (she got pale and uncoordinated) but it took her another 15 minutes to get into the 80’s. She was okay by the time she got home. But then she had another low overnight. 54 this time and she couldn’t even get out of bed. Like, literally, unable to physically get up out of bed.

But… At least now that she is compliant with testing and covering her food, we have a better idea how much insulin she needs and when. Here is a kind of breakdown of what she has to deal with on any given day. I’ll start off simple.

• Bg-Blood glucose. This is the number that reflects the number of milligrams per deciliter of sugar that is in her blood stream (and not getting into her cells where it’s needed). Our goal is anywhere from 70-120
• Test– A Bg check. Princess Punk pricks her finger with a lancet and squeezes a tiny drop of blood onto a tiny little strip inserted into her meter. The meter will show a Bg reading within about 3 seconds. It also sends the reading to the pump via RF or something.
• A1C– Hemoglobin A1C. A blood test that correlates to an approximately 3 month average of blood sugars. Non-diabetics are under 6. American Diabetes Association considers 7.5 fairly good control for a Type 1 Diabetic. Currently the Princess is hovering around 9.3.
• Low– Bg below 70. Princess Punk has to stop whatever it is she is doing and have 15g of fast acting carbs. Juice or sugar tabs are preferable. Then she has to wait 15 minutes and test again. If she’s still below 70, she has to do it again (15g of carbs and 15 minutes to re-check)
• High– Bg above 120. add insulin. See correction below.
• Basal– A constant flow of fast-acting insulin
• Bolus– An extra “boost” boost of insulin to administer when consuming carbs or when a Bg reads over the target range
• The Pump– A nifty device that gives The Princess her basal and calculates and delivers boluses as well.
• Infusion set– a little piece of plastic that is attached to a cannula that goes into Princess Punk’s skin (site). Usually an arm or leg. She doesn’t like using her stomach or butt. The little piece of plastic is attached to a (removable) piece of tubing that is attached to an insulin reservoir in her pump. That way she can remove the pump and tubing (showers, sports and swimming) without having to pull the site out of her flesh and redo it later. She’s supposed to change her site every other day. Not so much.
• Ratio– the number of grams of carbs for each unit of insulin she takes. Because The D-Monster is an asshole, the amount of insulin she needs throughout the day varies. For example, her ratio first thing in the morning is around 5. Meaning that for every 5 grams of carbs she eats, she takes a unit of insulin. Her ratio at dinnertime is 6. We also have to make adjustments when she has her period and when she is playing soccer (or basketball in another month or so).
• Correction– Complicated. a correction is what she needs when her blood sugar is too high. If she tests and gets a high, she will bolus 1 unit of insulin for every 12 mg/dl her Bg is over 120. Example… Princess Punk tests her sugar and gets a 220. That is 100 mg/dl of sugar in her blood that shouldn’t be there. So we take the 100 and divide by 12 and get… Crap. Math. Umm… 8.3333333333333. So she will do a bolus on her pump with 8.3 units of insulin in the hopes that her Bg will come down. Thank God for the pump. When she was on shots, we had to carry around a calculator to figure out how much insulin to give her. Not so fun when sitting in a restaurant in a tight booth trying to figure out how much to bolus for a heap of French fries and a strawberry lemonade combined with a Bg of 223, not to mention rounding it to the nearest half-unit. The pump can deliver in increments as small as 1/10 of a unit whereas shots go to a half unit and only if you have the right kind of delivery device (refillable pen vs. disposable pen vs. syringes). Oh and the needles present a problem too. Nothing like carrying a sharps container in your purse. Now she just presses a couple of buttons and she’s all set to eat.
• Lantus– long-acting insulin. Normally if you have a pump, you just use your basal instead of the Lantus pen (kind of like an Epi-Pen but reusable). Princess Punk has to take off her pump (remove the tubing from the site) for several hours a day during sports. She can’t play or shower or swim with the pump on. Since she’s not getting her basal during that time period, her Bg was going through the roof during practices and games and whenever she went in the pool. To avoid this, we lowered her basal from the pump to a very small amount (basically just enough to keep the tubing from getting clogged) and then she takes a shot of Lantus before bed so her baseline is covered for a full 24 hours, regardless of whether she is wearing the pump or not. She still has to bolus on the pump for highs and for carbs.

Confused yet? Try this…

The other night, Princess Punk went to practice and came home around 5. Her site had gotten ripped out during a scrimmage so she had been unable to re-attach her pump and had to put in a new infusion set. She tested and was high at dinner so she did a correction along with the bolus for her meal. We must have miscalculated the carbs or the ratio because her Bg was 45. She looked a little gray and her hands were shaking. She had some juice, but 15 minutes later she was still low. She had some more juice and was finally in the 90’s. Then she took her Lantus at bedtime. Since we figured we had miscalculated at dinnertime, we dropped her Lantus down a few units so she wouldn’t have another low overnight. Of course, the next day she got her period and spent the whole day high with Bg averaging around 230. We gave her a temporary basal of 130% of normal to counteract the highs.

This is an example of why her A1C is still messed up even though now she’s compliant.

Got it?

Nah, we still don’t either.

 

Wow… Too Long…

So yes, it’s been a ridiculously long time. Like, ri-DONK-u-lous as my supervisor is apt to say.

And I am composing a “Where the eff have I been” post currently, but today, I first want to say…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRINCESS PUNK!

16 years ago today I became a mom for the first time. I was 20. I was clueless. I was terrified. And here I was with this tiny little angry potato (seriously, that’s what she looked like… newborn babies are not generally cute) that I didn’t know what to do with and yet loved with every ounce of my being. She was red. And angry. And just as clueless as I was.

Princess Punk has had a lot of obstacles in her life. I never should have gotten pregnant in the first place. Wait… That came out weird. What I meant… I’ve had poly-cystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) since puberty. I got my period 4 times a year, if that. It’s why we went through fertility treatments to get The Peach. So for me to have an “oops” pregnancy at 19 was actually kind of a miracle. When The Zen Master and I went in for our consultation for the fertility study, the nurse who interviewed us was genuinely surprised that I already had a child. She said that the chances of me conceiving without help would have been ridiculously low. But she got here.

Then, she ended up in the hospital on day 5 with severe dehydration, failure to thrive and an enlarged heart because I listened to the Nazi lactation nurse and refused to give her a bottle. What neither of us knew is that, due to wicked hormonal imbalances (i.e. PCOS), my milk would never come in, despite every effort to the contrary. So my little Princess nearly starved to death (quite literally) before she’d ever really had a chance at life. She rebounded quickly on formula and I got to wear this ridiculous contraption taped to my chest so she could still nurse while actually getting formula. But she made it.

I was unmedicated, undermedicated or poorly medicated throughout the first 5 years of Princess Punk’s life. As a result I had 2 suicide attempts and ended up hospitalized 3 times. Princess Punk was placed in my parents’ custody for some time and we shared custody for several years. When they moved here to VT, I stayed in FL to finish college and she came here to live with them. The Sperm Donor rarely saw her and when he did, he denied she was his and was downright mean to her. I recall once, when she was an infant, sitting in her car seat, he put his face about 6″ away from hers and yelled, just to make her cry. Asshole. And I myself was not a great mother to her in the beginning. I’d drop her off with various people and go out and smoke pot and drink with “my boys” while I left her at her paternal grandmother’s house (Sperm Donor’s mom) or some other really inappropriate place. Or just leave her with my parents while I did my own thing.  She has had to deal with a lot of issues surrounding those formative years where I was kinda just a sucky mom. But she did it.

And then The D-Monster reared it’s massively ugly head. And since then she’s struggled with ignorance and illness and high blood sugar and low blood sugar and medical releases and being turned away from the local summer camp because “they didn’t have the capacity to care for a child with uncontrolled diabetes.” That one still pisses me off. She’s 100 times better with compliance since her surgery got canceled and she decided she finally is ready to stop letting the D-Monster control her life. She still struggles. But she gets it.

Princess Punk blew my mind from day one. She continues to do so every day, in both good ways and bad. She has grown to become an amazing young woman. She is intelligent, kind, talented, beautiful, strong and brave. Even a diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes has not stopped her from doing well in school, playing on Varsity Soccer (yes, starting on varsity as a sophomore), being a caring friend, a loving big sister and an amazing daughter and granddaughter. She is a force of nature, unwavering and unstoppable in her achieving her dreams. I am SO proud of you babygirl, Happy Birthday!

Oh, and BTW Princess Punk…

I Love you Forever,

I Like you For Always,

Even When You’re All Grown Up,

My Baby You’ll Be.

Princess Punk and The D-Monster

Princess Punk was due for jaw surgery on June 17th. After 2 years of orthodontic preparation, 2 surgeons, multiple pre-op crap and a Facebook ticker counting down the days.

It’s been cancelled. Indefinitely.

Princess Punk’s HA1C is 9.4. The surgeon wants it below 7 for at least 6 months. In case you don’t remember, A1C is sort of a 3 month average of her blood sugars. 9.4 equates to about 275ish. 7 is around 150. She’s never been 7. Ever. Even when she was first diagnosed and the beta cells in her pancreas were still kicking out one last ditch effort to produce insulin, her A1C only got as low as 7.3.

Apparently, there is this fungal infection called mucormycosis that is particularly fond of patients with high blood sugar. Because of the nature of the surgery (i.e. cutting her jaw apart and putting it back together) there is an “astronomical” (this was the term used by the surgeon) risk of this fungus infecting the actual jaw bone itself. Once it’s  there, the only way to get rid of it, before it creeps into her brain, would be to remove the jaw.

So no surgery. The surgeon stated that, ethically, he could not put her under the knife with her A1C so high. Which I’m honestly thankful for. I just wish we could have gone through this sooner. Like before all the myriad of pre-op appointments and The Princess getting all excited about being able to eat corn on the cob and smile without feeling self-conscious about her underbite. She’s gorgeous. Period. But she is uncomfortable with the jaw thing.

Before you get all judgy about putting my cherished child through a potentially life-threatening surgery for cosmetic reasons, let me clarify that this surgery is medically necessary. Princess Punk has a 9mm gap between her top and bottom front teeth when she closes her mouth. She can’t bite into food. She eats pizza and ribs with a knife and fork. Her teeth meet in one spot in the back. Her entire chewing surface area is one tooth on either side. She’s getting headaches. And she’s going to end up with TMJ worse than mine if she doesn’t get this fixed. So this has to be done.

My strong, tough kid wept for 20 minutes in front of all of us. And then she said,

“Mom, can you help me fix it?”

Broke my fucking heart. But she finally gets it. She gets how important this shit is.

So we’re implementing a plan. A plan to kick The D-Monster’s ass so The Princess can get her sugar under control, not just for this surgery, but for the rest of her life.

Here’s the plan…

• Low-carb- this is not going to fix the problem. But it will help the insulin resistance we seem to be coming up against because Ms. Punk has been eating way too much junk food. The more carbs and simple sugars she eats, the more insulin she needs. The more insulin she takes, the less effective it seems to be.
• Vigilance- this is entirely under the control of The Princess herself. She has to measure every scrap of food or drink that enters her mouth and cover it with the appropriate amount of insulin. And she has to test at least 4 times a day, to make sure she’s not high and if she is, to cover the high with extra insulin. And record EVERYTHING. So we can make sure she is actually doing what she’s supposed to and so we can all know where her numbers are at.
• Tech- She’s getting a new pump. With a continuous glucose monitor that checks her insulin 280 times in 24 hours. She’ll still have to test 4 times a day minimum, but she’ll be alerted of highs and lows a lot quicker. The new pump also has a transmitter that can upload her info directly to her (not yet purchased) iPhone. Yes, we’re getting her an iPhone. She needed a phone anyway and if this can help her keep track of everything, it’s worth the extra $20 a month.
• Support- Weekly calls and monthly visits with the diabetes educator nurse at her endocrinologist’s office. She’ll help us adjust insulin levels and keep cheering us on when things get rough.

Here’s the problem…

The D-Monster doesn’t give a shit about plans.

Here’s how it went down yesterday-
Wake up- 241

Change site. Infected site. Okay, that explains the high. The insulin doesn’t particularly move well through infected tissue. She swore she just changed it, but since there was some (gag) pus there, I think she went a day or two longer than that.

Bolus

Test again- 285. Shit. Breakfast. Bolus for high and food.

Two hours later- 415. WTF?!? Bolus again. Check for ketones (negative). Swear a lot.

An hour later- 358. Down but not much. Hurry up and wait.

Lunchtime- Bolus for the food and the still over 250 sugar. Check for ketones again.

2 hours later- 267. Are you fucking kidding me. Use the syringe this time.

Dinner- 212. Syringe again for the high and the food.

2 hours later- 248. Just… I just… Can we just… How can she still… Fuck.

Shot.

Around 11- 177. One more bolus with the syringe. At 75% of normal because we’d rather not have a coma overnight.

Midnight- I’m still awake, eyeing the juice boxes on my dresser, ready to run in her room and resuscitate her because now she’s had TOO MUCH insulin.

This morning- 88. Fine. We’re using syringes for now. Maybe it’s the pump. She’s getting a new one in a few days. We’ll get the nurse on the phone tomorrow to prescribe some Lantus (long acting insulin) since her pump basal doesn’t seem to be working.

 

 

Stop trying to ruin everything Diabetes. You Suck.

Happy 15th birthday Princess Punk!

I’m really REALLY sorry that The D-Monster tried to screw up your birthday.

Let me elaborate.

In Vermont, you can gt a learner’s permit at age 15. I think this is actually the case in most states, but I thought I’d just clarify. Here, all she needs to do is take a (very) easy test and provide some identification that she is a citizen of the US and a resident in VT. And you know, she’s never been arrested for drugs or had a CDL licence. Really?

Anyway. The Princess was SO excited about getting her permit and she’d taken the practice test over the weekend about 500 times. We had the ID info she needed, minus her SS card which they said we could bring in later and they’d just give her a non-ID ID. Whatever. She could still practice driving with it. I was initially going to take her next week or the week after when she wasn’t at soccer practice, but I thought, “you know what? you only turn 15 once and getting a permit is a major milestone in life.” So I excused her from soccer practice and even picked her up from school a little bit early in order to make the 3pm appointment in Montpelier to take her test.

But then The D-Monster decided to fuck up all our plans.

We got to the DMV and filled out everything and checked the appropriate boxes on the forms and gave the nice lady all the relevant paperwork.

“She has diabetes?” We had checked off a box on the form.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, we’ll need her doctor to fill out the front and back of this form. Then you have to mail it to our department where they make a decision on medical clearance. Then we’ll send a letter back to you. When you bring me that letter, then she can take the test.”

“Wait. You mean she can’t even take the test without a note from her doctor.” I did not form this as a question since it had just seemed so… wrong.

“Yes, I’m very sorry. But we’re really not even allowed to let them take the test without the clearance.” At least she was nice about it.

I am fighting back tears now as I clarify exactly what is needed for my kid to do what all of her other friends are able to do without a second thought.

It’s not fair. She’s just a kid. She’s 15 and she doesn’t need one more reminder how much this disease totally sucks.

It was hard for me not to cry. I did cry actually, a little bit, in the bathroom where Princess Punk couldn’t see me. She was, of course, stoic as always. I’m sure this will erupt in some point at a moment of anger or frustration and it will all come spilling out in some kind of emotional, weepy, tidal wave.

At least she got her Chili and cannolis for her birthday dinner. And a Doctor Who cup and iPod case. And a new computer which is not playing her games right now, but at least we’re working on it.

So take that D-Monster, she had a good day anyway. You just pissed me off. Again.

Great. Sticky.

The Peach is now 2, is into EVERYTHING and is kinda, a teeny bit crazy. As a result, I am finding I am frequently grabbing things away from her and putting them places I probably shouldn’t. Like my pocket. Or my purse. So I shouldn’t be surprised to reach for my keys and find instead, a half-eaten package of fruit snacks that have gelled into some sort of weird amalgam with a couple of (unused, thank God) tissues in the side pocket of said purse.

It took me several minutes to get the tissue-lint/pectin/red-dye#6 paste out from under my nails.

So I did an inventory.

Here’s what I found.

In my purse-

• 

  Just a small sample

  2 Mimis

• a handful of unused tissues she pulled out of the box. I actually thought those might be useful. Not.
• a handful of napkin shreds from… McDonalds? Not sure.
• a tootsie roll pop wrapper (that one might have been Princess Punk)
• a juice box straw. I rescued that one from her nostril the other day
• a half of a crayon
• a Sharpie, sans-cap. That was quick thinking there. (sarcasm… in case you hadn’t figured it out)
• one glove
• 2 pen caps (but not a sharpie cap)
• 1 AAA battery
• 1 teeny acrylic ball that looks like it could be the end piece to a barbell when I had my tongue pierced a lifetime ago
• 2 hair bands. From her mouth.
• 1 barrette. This, she yanked out of her hair (along with quite a few precious silky-fine strands) and hurled directly at my head
• a dog biscuit. I’m pretty sure she had intended to give this to Fairy Dog and not eat it herself, but since I confiscated it while she was in the car (several miles from home and The Fairy) I’m not making any assumptions.
• half a package of PB crackers. She pulled these out from under her carseat while I was wrestling her into the car. She then hid them, waited until I had reached a I-can’t-reach-back-there-and-grab-you-without-pulling-over speed and then proceeded to munch on them. I’m not exactly sure how long they had been wedged under her seat, but even an hour in that car would’ve made them inedible to anyone but a 2-year-old.
• And the always disgusting… Diabetes test-strip, used, complete with drop of blood from Princess Punk’s finger prick. I scooped that out of her mouth. Gag.

In my pockets (coat and pants, over the past week)

• 2 (different than the purse) Mimis
• more shredded napkins, this time from home
• a baby comb
• a Barbie cowboy boot. This had been popped off her tongue where she had delightedly suctioned it then walked around the house showing everyone.
• a foof of Fairy Dog hair
• styrofoam packing material
• a used tissue that she had been about to lick
• a raisin
• a ketchup packet
• a capped Sharpie
• various shreds of paper
• at least 4 different types of string/yarn/twine

 This is just from the past week. I cleaned out my purse less than 10 days ago.

Excuse me, I have to go wash my hands again.

 

Life with a diabetic teenager…

Yes. Seriously.

And Some Days are Better

I had a date with Princess Punk last night. Her last report card was decent and at the moment, she’s running in the 90’s in all her classes. Plus the recent appointment with Dr. Hottie was not as awful as it has been in the past. Her A1C went down, 9.7 from 10.1, still WAY too high, but a definite reflection that she is doing better. So I figured it was time to have a Mom-and-Me date.

I’d had an ok day at work. Still not as productive as I know I’m capable of, which honestly just pisses me off, but I did get some stuff done and I actually had the director at my office tell her boss (who had come to visit) that she wanted to clone me because I was just that good. Which was pretty much as much of an ego boost as is possible doing the job I do. The fact that it came from my boss’s, boss’s boss and was directed toward the regional muckity-muck, made it that much more awesome.

Anyway, after work, I took The Princess to Sushi Yoshi in Stowe. They opened not too long ago, in a location that has seen at least 5 reincarnations of hibachi restaurants in the last 6 years. There’s still hibachi there, but now it also has a full sushi bar which is TRULY awesome. Even more awesome than having a good sushi restaurant less than an hour away from home is the fact that, despite it being in the heart of Tourist-Town, the prices are actually reasonable. Plus, they’re very nice to locals. Which is good business in my opinion. Since so many folks that live around here work in hospitality, it’s a pretty savvy business model to be good to the people who work at the resorts so they might recommend you to their guests… They have a “Good Guys” card for locals that gives 50% of basic appetizers, sushi rolls (besides the super fancy “Chef’s Special” rolls) and a la carte sushi 3-6pm everyday except Saturday, and 3 to close on Monday (which is even smarter because Monday night is Friday night to hospitality industry folks around here).

So anyway… The Princess and I went out to dinner and we hung out and actually talked. Like about stuff that is actually going on in her life. Which is a fucking miracle. She talked to me about school and her friends and even (gasp) her boyfriend. And we had a great time, just the two of us. And then we went to the movies. We saw the new Thor movie, which was kinda disappointing with the exception of ample views of half-nekkid, muscly Chris Hemsworth that Princess Punk and I agreed made the $8 ticket price totally worth it. And we threw popcorn at each other and laughed and shared candy and had an overall really great time.

So life goes on…