I'm feeling a little better about Riley going to school. I'm doing well enough that I don't feel like dissolving into a puddle of tears anytime someone mentions school.
It happened yesterday. My parents have gone away on vacation. So, my babysitter is gone. Usually, in the summertime this wouldn't be a problem. But, Michael works off and on installing pools during the summer. And, the guy he works for needed him to work this week. I went back to work yesterday too, so this left us in a dilemma.
Michael called me at 9 o'clock yesterday morning. He said the guy he works for needed him ASAP. I was already at work. Holden was home. Michael decided to get Holden to watch Riley for a couple of hours until I could rearrange my schedule and pick him up.
Holden called me at 11:00 to report Riley's blood sugar (300; we're having problems lately getting that first sugar after breakfast down to an acceptable range) Anyway, Holden gave Riley insulin.
I told Holden I would come get Riley soon. He said there was no need to. "Mom, I'm going to be doing this on my own at school soon enough. You might as well let me start now."
And, that's what he did. Holden kept Riley all day. He checked sugars, counted carbs, and gave insulin like a pro.
And, now, I'm breathing a little easier. I'm not 100% OK, but I'm getting there. Holden will be at the same school as Riley. He's lived with this disease just as long as I have. He knows what to do and if he doesn't I'm just a phone call away.
Holden had to go to work too today. So, Michael took Riley to work with him this morning and I picked him up and he stayed at the office with me in the afternoon.
After I picked him up I was driving the 15 minutes back to work. He asked to see my clipboard. I use it at work to jot down notes about patients.
I handed him the board and heard him flipping through pages. Then I heard this little conversation:
"Let's see. You're here today because your son has diabetes. Is that right? So, you've brought him in for a cure?"
"Ma'am does he have Type 1 or Type 2? Excuse me. Ma'am is he Type 1 or Type 2?"
"Type 1? OK. So, all you have to do is log on and type in the password and then he'll be cured. The password is R-I-L-E-Y. Did you get that? It's R-I-L-E-Y."
"Just type that in and he'll be cured and he can eat and drink whatever he wants."
I hear that and my mama bear claws come out. I want to rip diabetes to shreds. I want to fight until I'm so exhausted I can't go on anymore. I want to see that day when my son really, really can eat whatever he wants. Not just in theory, but for real.
It's what he wants. It's my job to make it happen.
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