If you’re new here, welcome. I normally write about ADHD but this week is a bit different for reasons you’ll see.
I’m writing this from a children’s hospital right now.
A random afternoon where one quick test at the doctor’s office turned into many further tests, and an increasing urgency with each result.
My youngest, Maverick (6 years old), has just been diagnosed with Type-1 Diabetes. He’s sleeping a few feet from me after an exhausting day of needles and nurses and new rules for when he’s allowed to eat. Our world turned upside down in a moment and my wife and I are still reeling from the news.
Each meal or snack is a process of math and needles—aka calculating glucose levels and injecting insulin to keep the levels safe. Every meal. The life of our sweet boy dependent on this happening exactly right. Our boy trying to understand his new reality of getting shots four times a day. For forever.
Our sweet boy that surprised us on another random afternoon six years ago when we learned he would be arriving much earlier than expected. Born into the world too soon, needing machines just to breathe for his first few weeks of life.
And now he’ll be reliant on modern medicine once again.
It’s a lot to take in.
I don’t mean to sound hopeless. There is a lot to be thankful for: thankful for the nurses and educators that helped us manage the days in the hospital and prepare us for managing this at home, thankful that we caught the signs1 early and brought him in before he got really sick, thankful that the technology has come so far in recent years, thankful of a community that already seems very welcoming and supportive, etc.
I know that some day, this will become routine and just be our new normal.
I know that some day, Maverick may even say that his type-1 diabetes was a significant part of what made him the man he grows up to become.
But right now, it just feels like a lot.
Jesse J. Anderson