Who knew something so simple could cause so much dislike

Diabetes is a pain for me, I cannot even imagine what it is for Kylee. Having to carry around her bag full of supplies she has to have to survive and then there are the things she has to have in case something goes wrong is just a constant reminder to her that she has it. The "Red Pen" she carries is morbid in itself and something I have an issue with. Its not actually a pen, thats just what we call it. Its actually a glucagon emergancy kit and it contains a syringe filled with fluid and a vial with powdered glucagon in it. See that gray part? Thats the needle cover. Its big. If, God forbid, Kylee were ever to be unconscious the idea is that you mix the fluid in with the powered stuff in the vial, draw it back out and inject it into a muscle. You know that scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta jabs that needle into Uma Thurmans chest after she overdoses? I imagine it to be something like that, but in her leg. Im sure its really nothing like that, but that is the scene that comes to mind any time I think about having to ever use it. And as if the injection part wasnt enough fun it self, you have to be sure to immediately roll the person on their side because they will puke. I have an extreme dislike towards this inanimate object. They give it to you in the hospital and tell you how you can stick it through ski pants, jeans, pretty much anything, and how great it is. Dont get me wrong, Im very thankful that we have it as it could save her life, but every time I see it, it just screams of failure and death. And its taped to the side of my fridge. Why? Because it needs to be in a place where everyone can easily get to it and it cant get lost. No problem there, most people who walk though my kitchen ask what it is. Its taped up there along with the log sheet we use to track what her blood sugar is at each meal, how many carbs she is eating, how much insulin she is taking and another sheet that has the signs and symptoms of low blood sugar on it. She takes one with her when she leaves the house and she has another one that stays at school. Knowing its there should give me piece of mind right? Wrong.

Having an "I hate diabetes" night

I dont ever like diabetes, but tonight I really dont like it. Kylee was outside jumping on our trampoline tonight with her friends. One of the girls comes running in to tell me Kylee is hurt, so I go running out there and she is laying on the trampoline crying and another girl is holding her glasses. She somehow managed to knee herself in the face, smashing her glasses into her eye, cheekbone and temple. She's got the beginnings of a black eye, a scratch on her temple and her her cheekbone is still puffy and red and Im sure it will be bruised too. Her glasses are also all bent, but fortunately I have to take Dakota to the eye doctor on Monday and I have her old glasses still, so she can wear them until I get hers fixed. So she came inside to put ice on her face and started to feel like her blood sugar was low. She checked and sure enough it was. So she had to drink juice and have a snack while keeping ice on her face and it all got to her. She started crying that she hates having diabetes, she is tired of it and wants it to go away, and she doesnt want to die or have her feet amputated. And of course I started crying too. Hell, Im tearing up just typing this. It isnt fair that she has to worry about her blood sugar and what she is eating and shots and finger sticks all the time. It really bullshit that a 10 year old is worried about death and having her feet amputated. I hate this stupid disease.

Memories

Ive been in a reflective mood lately, so bare with me for this.

When I was 13 or 14, my parents took my two younger brothers and I to Oregon for vacation. We drove the whole way, pulling our camper, and stayed on the coast the whole trip. We would drive until we got to some place we liked, then my Dad would stop and we would set up the camper and stay for a few days. I learned to like my brother that summer(hes a few years younger than me and we never got along). I learned every word to every Monkees song ever written, thanks to my Dad, and still know most of the words now(my phone plays the theme song from the Monkees when he calls). I picked blackberries, saw the whale that was Free Willie at an aquarium, didnt watch tv for 3 weeks, listed to Weezer and the Fugees over and over and over(those songs still remind me of that trip). One of my greatest memories of that trip is of the beaches. One day my parents and youngest brother were walking ahead of my other brother and I. I was stepping in my Dads footprints, not paying a lot of attention to anything. He must of realized what I was doing because he started taking really like strides, weaving all over the place and doing other goofy things and he and my Mom were just watching me, lost in my own world following his trail. I dont know why that memory stuck with me so well, but its an important one to me.

Growing up, I always thought of my Grandpa as a grouchy old man. He played golf, hunted, fished and did other "guy" things. I wasnt a boy, so I didnt think he wanted anything to do with me. 1999 was the first Christmas I had ever spent without my parents(they were in Indonesia), and I was depressed. My Grandparents invited Kylee and I to come stay with them for the holiday, so we went. My aunt and her husband at the time came and picked us up, and my Grandma was going to take us home on the 30th. Well my Grandma ended up really sick, so my Grandpa said he would take us instead. I was terrified. 8 hours in my Grandpas brand new Cadillac with Kylee was was barely 2 at the time. I knew this was going to be the worst ride of my life. We got up early that morning, Kylee was still asleep and headed out. About half an hour into the drive, my Grandpa and I started talking. We talked about everything under the sun. He never yelled at Kylee for being loud(we were always in trouble as kids for being loud), he gave her sticky candy to eat in the car(eating in the car was forbidden with my Grandpa) and it was over before I knew it. My Grandpa died in Feb. 2002 from brain cancer. He was diagnosed just after Thanksgiving and was told there was nothing that could be done because it had already spread to his lungs and the tumor in his brain was just too big. After the car ride home a few years earlier my opinion of my Grandpa had changed, but I was still in for a shock. My Grandma decided to move about two years ago. She was going thru all of her and my Grandpas stuff and came across envelopes full of pictures in his drawers. Every school picture my Mom and my aunts had ever sent my Grandparents was in there. You could tell he had put them in his wallet and then must have taken them out when he got new ones and put the old ones in the envelopes. He had also taken regular pictures and cut them out and stuck those in his wallet too. My Grandma sent each of us our envelope, and she sent me Kylees envelope too. Most of my childhood I didnt think my Grandpa even liked me. A few years after he died, I found out he really did love me.

Wanna know why I hate diabetes?

OK, there are a lot of reasons, but today I have a vent about one certain part of it. The stupid disease is a total guessing game! Every person is different, there is no tried and true formal and in order to find what works, you just have to guess. Its unpredictable, you dont know how anything will effect her until it happens and I dont really like to experiment on my kid. Her blood sugar was in the 30s the other day and twice its been in the low 40s. For some people thats the level where they have seizures and go into a coma. For Kylee it doesnt really do anything to her. Well it does, but nothing you can see.

Since Kylee's diagnosis a little over a month ago, she has been all over the place with her blood sugars. First she was WAY high, now shes WAY low. She has had her carb ratios(how many units of insulin she has to have for however many grams of carbs shes eating) changed from 1:20 to 1:15 to 1:10 back to 1:15 then 1:20 for lunch and 1:15 for everything else and now back to 1:20 for everything. She takes a long acting insulin at night and about once a week, her doctor decreases it. First it was 20 units, then 16, then 14 and now 11. She'll eat a meal that has 55 carbs in it and her blood sugar is 90. I have to decide whether to round up and give her 4 units of insulin(by the old formula) or 3 units because she is under 100. There is no rule as to what you have to do, the doctors just tell you to do what feels right. Hah! HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT TO DO!?!?!?! Im not a freaking doctor and I really dont want to screw up and make her be either to high or too low because when it comes down to it, Im responsible for how she feels. That sucks. It sucks to know she doesnt feel good because I probably just gave her too much insulin. It sucks to know that I really do hold her life in my hands and if I screw up too badly, it could kill her. People keep telling me that things will normal out once her pancreas stops producing all together, and I cannot wait for that day. BUT...of course there is no way to tell when that is or how much of it is still working, its just a guess. Could be 6 months, could be 2 years. It could be working at 60% right now, it could be working at 40%. 12 hours from now it could be a totally different percentage. I dont like guessing games.

OK, rant over.

Why Tree Stump

I know, Tree Stump is an odd name and really its a family joke. But there is a reason for that being the name of my blog and a story to go with it.

When my very soon to be 10 year old daughter was about 3, I was putting her to bed one night. I tucked her in, read her the same books that we read every night, kissed her and told her I loved her. Her relpy "I love you more than a tree stump". I have no idea why she said it, but I was a little shocked and it was funny coming out of this little girls mouth, so I laughed and thinking that I must rank pretty low, right between tree stumps and rocks or something equally unimpressive and useless, I said something about that must not be very much. She gave me that gee, your dumb look that little kids are so good at and said "They arent just dead trees you know, they are good for lots of things". So I said ok, kissed her again, turned out the light and left. And I started thinking about the tree stump that my daughter was so impressed with and all the things she did with it. She ate her lunch at it, sat on it, used it as a stage to stand on and sing REALLY loudly from, drove little cars on it, she set up doll house furniture on it, used it as a table to color on and who knows what else she used it as. To her, that tree stump served a lot of purposes. It became a regular thing between the two of us, she would tell me she loved me more than cereal, carpet, swings, grass or any other weird thing to be compared to and I would do the same to her. But really what it meant was more than anything.

So why Tree Stump? Its a reminder to me that what I may see as useless and unimpressive may matter a lot to someone else.