oh, by the way...

 

One thing about having a two-year-old...she certainly won't let me wallow in self-pity or stay down for long. O received two helium balloons for Valentine's Day, a heart-shaped one from Marc's mom and from Marc a GINORMOUS one with monkey faces on it that plays...I kid you not..."I Got You, Babe." These two balloons have followed O all over the house for the last day and a half, bumping into door jambs and spontaneously bursting into song. This morning, I woke a bit early, intending to get some stuff done on the computer before O got up, but her spidey sense told her I was awake. I didn't hear her door open, but there was no missing her approach...she came running full-tilt into the dining room, huge smile on her face, balloons streaming out behind her, and a full head of crazy blond bed-head bouncing to the unmistakable tunes of Sonny and Cher. It was a great way to start my day.

Sometimes the more I have to talk about, the fewer words I have with which to do it. For example, February 1st was the one year anniversary of Olivia's diagnosis. I had been aware of the anniversary creeping up on us, but I didn't really want to think about it. I still don't. I have just felt sort of angry and tired about the whole thing. I don't want a year to have passed. I don't want to have to say, "It was a year ago, two years ago, five years ago..." I still don't want it to be real.

When I feel this way, I get avoidant. Let things slide. Refuse to deal. Last night, I went for much longer without checking O's blood sugar than I normally ever would. Just too tired. Didn't want to poke her again. Didn't want to get up. Just didn't want to do it, damn it.

This in turn makes me feel guilty. Imagine how she feels, I tell myself. Actually, I don't have to imagine. I read it in people's blogs, what it is like to live with it. There is no avoiding diabetes.

So, I'll get it together. Write a little, grieve a little. Move on, cut myself some slack. There has to be some ebb and flow.

Time keeps rushing further away from that February night when we rushed O to the ER; hopefully, we are moving just as quickly towards a cure.

Super Tuesday