Towards the end of Friday's outing to Woodneck beach, TJ's pump started emitting a sound not unlike the alarm that the national weather service puts out. Buried in his cargo shorts, under a towel, it was subtle, but persistent. We have had very few issues with the relatively new Animas, and the code "Call Service/Delivery Stopped" was a new one for us.
We were already considering our departure from the beach when the pump began alarming, so truly, this was not a day-ruining alarm. We made light of the situation, joked with our friends about the broken pump, and packed it in. Not that big of a deal. The situation was (eventually) remedied, with only one call to Joslin and two calls to Animas. In the scheme of "things that could go wrong with diabetes" this was a very small event.
But, still. At the beach, packing up early, in a slight panic, and with a kid I could tell was on the verge of a meltdown, I stood there smiling, putting on my happy mommy face. Why? Why do I always say "he's doing great" or "diabetes isn't that big of a deal" when in reality I want to scream "diabetes sucks, and I wish my kid didn't have it."
Obviously, diabetes isn't the end of the world. As I have said often, TJ is a very well adjusted, happy, athletic, amazing kid. Every now and then, though, I would like for him to not be the kid that leaves first. Not be the one sounding an alarm - literal or figurative. Not be the one counting carbs at the ice cream truck.
This spring has been diabetes-heavy. We have gone through spells where diabetes has truly been in the background, but these past few weeks have not been among them. Diabetes has been out front and center at baseball, requiring in-the-dugout site-changes and sometimes keeping him on the bench. It has been a presence at school with persistent highs. It has made itself heard at friend's houses, where sites have come out. And now, as summer is starting, it has insisted on interfering at the beach.
I'm sure the pendulum will swing again, and we will have a stretch of weeks where diabetes is tucked in the background, barely noticeable, and my smile and "oh, diabetes isn't that big of a deal" comment may be truthful. But not today.
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