The art of masking

We are all learning new skills from this Corona virus.  South Africa has just shifted from level 5 to level 4 lock down, and it is now mandatory to wear a face mask .  So, our challenge is to make suitable, comfortable, effective masks, and to learn the art of wearing them.

The making was not too difficult.  There are plenty of instructions on YouTube, and being the hoarder that I am, I just happened to have quilting cotton, the lining filter material, and a softer cotton for comfort on the skin side.  And some elastic. (Should the virus require us to make anything out of old buttons, different length zips, beads, bits of coloured glass, scraps of ribbon and wool or anything else of that genre, I will be ready too....I really MUST do a clean out sometime soon.)

The wearing of them is where the real skill lies. President Ramaphosa shared the first challenge with the nation (and the world) when he struggled to put his mask on during a live TV screening.

He was gently teased, and, showing off true leadership skills, managed to get the country laughing together with him. The top down approach works best for me.  I put the elastic around my ears, and place the mask over my eyes, and wiggle it down to cover my nose and mouth.  I quite enjoy wearing my mask.  It makes communicating with ones eyes all the more important, or not communicating at all quite acceptable.  It is also a bit like playing the broken telephone game, where words get distorted through the layers, and you have to guess what is being said, or you can pretend to hear whatever you want to hear.  It also, I find, helps me concentrate on mindful breathing.  The in and out are more audible to the self, and I can feel the air going in and out, in and out, slow-it-down- in and lonnng out.

 It is not all a bed of roses though.  Sometimes we need to be heard properly, say, for example when I was collecting TDs meds from the pharmacy. ( I have taken to writing it all down, and shoving the piece of paper on the counter.)  Or sometimes we need to sneeze, and then there is a mask-full of trouble.  The nose drip is a challenge too, as is the unscratchable itch. I am sure as we get more used to wearing these masks we will conquer these challenges.

The challenges I  am struggling with at the moment that can't be adjusted with elastic or practise, are things like the schooling situation.  There have been so many iterations of when the schools will be opened, that nobody knows what is happening.  It is time, maybe, to separate schooling from education.  I am doubting TD will be able to go back to the classroom any time soon.... Diabetes T1 is high risk, as elevated Hblc levels (long term glucose control) seem to play a part in hindering recovery from COVID 19.  Anything above 6.5 is considered risky.  TD's latest level is considerably higher.  But that doesn't mean her education must be compromised.  I think I read somewhere that education is all the bits of the school curricula that you remember 10 years later - the important stuff.  We will have to concentrate on that.  The fact that she is missing the fun aspects of school is very sad indeed, but we choose life.  Giving up concerts and dances and outings is a small price to pay.

Our first masked walk!

As we greet each other through masks, please look deeply into other people's eyes.  People are difficult to read if we can't see smiles or frowns or worried looks, and some people find it hard to ask for help.  And not all masks are made from cloth either - people are often good at hiding what is bothering them.  If you can, support each other, especially those with sad eyes.  And to those with shiny eyes, hiding the tears - risk taking off your mask for a moment and let others know what would help. We are all learning new skills from this Corona virus.

The voices in my head

TD's playlist has some songs on it with most annoying lyrics - the type that get stuck in my head and play on silent repeat in my mind until I am forced to do something drastic, like listen to some of my own style of music, or distract myself with a book.  TD's generation has a lot of angst in the lyrics that are used, and I wonder if that repeats in their subconscious and adds to a collective melancholy.  I wonder if song lyrics (like Teen Idle or Ocean Eyes ) add to the voices in their heads.

We all have voices in our head. ( I hope...do we?? Perhaps I am speaking for myself here!) They are the ghosts of childhood, the constrictions of societal norms or the self imposed opinions of self.  Or sometimes they are just lists of things that need to be done.

My early morning checklist includes things like changing the needles on both insulin pens, giving a very sleepy TD the correct type of insulin at the correct time, making sure she eats within a certain time frame of injecting, and packing an ice pack in the insulin kit for school.

 The last couple of weeks have been diabetically challenging.  On one occasion, TD did not take her insulin kit to school.  For some reason, I didn't pack it or leave it with her lunchbox, and as her glucose had been too low at breakfast time, she hadn't taken any Apidra (short acting insulin) when she woke up.

The voices in my head did a little admonishing speech - the what ifs looping around (the emergency injection for severe hypos lives in the kit and should be on TD's person at all times).  I whatsapped her and dropped the cooler case at the school's front office.  Crisis averted.

TD checked in with me back much later, towards the end of the school day.  She thanked me for bringing the insulin through.......but I hadn't checked properly and the Apidra pen did not have a needle on it.  It is absolutely no use whatsoever without the needle.  Oops.

No insulin equals glucose spike.  High glucose equals headaches, tiredness, blurred vision and inability to concentrate.  Inability to concentrate equals a hard day at school.

Shortly after this, TD caught the bug going round.  The doctor booked her off school for the best part of a week.  She slept for most of it, and she tried to stabilize those glucose levels.  But guess what - pretty much any illness causes sugar levels to rise as cortisol ( glucose) and adrenalin are released into the blood stream to help with fighting infections.  Even a minor cold can be a major challenge for anyone with diabetes.

Enough, say the voices in my head.  How about some positive news.

TD has a fascination with, and love of, old cars.  She recently had the opportunity  to be a passenger in an 1916/17 Dodge Brothers on a rally from Wynberg to Simonstown. (The date discrepancy relates to the addition of a part in 1917....)

The 1916/17 Dodge Brothers

It is a beautiful coastal route, and TD waved like royalty from the back seat at the many admirers along the way.  It was a lovely day,  celebrating nostalgia and fine craftsmanship, the carefree feeling of wind in your hair and sun on your shoulders.

Our inner voices play an important role in how we live life.  Sometimes it is hard to drown out the picky voices of criticism and or the bass notes of self doubt.  Sometimes these voices need to surface so that things can be made better and easier, or so that we can make longer check lists.  Sometimes the voices need to be overlayed by the kindness of people we trust, who encourage us and tell us we are doing ok, even in the diabetically challenging weeks.

It takes a village to do the homework......

And breathe......


Greyton is a pictuesque village about an hour and a half drive from Cape Town.  It nestles quietly in its green surroundings in the the shade of the Riviersonderend mountains.  The word I most associate with the place  is Tranquility.  TD's grandparents had a thatched cottage there some years ago, so I am familiar with the beauty of the area. I took TD to see the house (which has changed a great deal since my parents lived there)  on our first Mother/Daughter getaway a few years ago.  Quaintly, the new owners kept the name : Snail Morning.  That gives you an idea of the pace and focus of the area.

But, once a year, around this time, Greyton swarms with teenagers.  TD's school sends all the grade 10s on a camp to Greyton.  Luckily, they go in three batches of about 70 at a time, and after 20years, the townsfolk are used to them.  In fact, they help the learners with the questionnaire about the place that hasn't changed in all the years that the school has been visiting, even though some of the questions are now irrelevant.  It is part of the quaintness of the village that they embrace the invasion and kindly help to share the homework.

Of course I did my usual scare/educate routine for the teacher a week before they left, trotting out the same old info sheets that I have been using since grade 6, modifying a few details along the way.  And as usual, the teacher was eager to hear, learn and inject the grapefuit with an expired emergency kit.  TD's numbers have been all the place (I might have mentioned that once or twice recently 😏), so the practice round was very necessary.

The run up to the trip was epic.  The Saturday night was the much anticipated Grade 10 dance.  Ah, TD and all her friends looked beautiful, and had a magical night. On Sunday, after a sleep in,  we celebrated our wedding anniversary in Wellington and then needed to play Settlers of Catan, so we did. On Monday, TD had a regular school day, followed by extra murals and stayed to see the dress rehearsal of her friends one act plays. (Her school day lasted from 7.30am to 10pm)  So when Tuesday rolled round, TD was somewhat tired.

Breathe....

I was a bit anxious about this time away, more so than other times.  From my chat with the teacher, I knew TD was going on a hike into the mountains in a small group with no adult accompanying them.  I feared a low.  And sure enough, TD had a 3 half way into the mountain.  Luckily she caught it early enough (she could still think rationally and open her glucose) and dosed herself with sweets, and some  friends helped her.  She had several more hypoglycaemic events over the next 24 hours, and  even more hypers.

The highs seemed to concern the teacher more than the lows. TD went very high during the night - above 20.  Although this is dangerous, it is not as dangerous as 3 in the mountains, but I think maybe the teacher was mixing up the hypos and hypers.  A very easy thing to do when all this diabetes stuff is new and overwhelming.  She kindly checked TD at 2am and suggested TD take insulin to bring the level down.  TD phoned me to chat, and both she and the teacher messaged me a number of times during the early hours of the morning, and by breakfast time, TD had stabilized.  I bought the teacher a big box of chocolates, because I thought it might be going overboard to buy her the Superhero cloak she deserves.

And breathe...

TD came home safely, having had a wonderful time.  I thought she might be worried about all the highs and lows. "How was it?" I asked.  "The chocolate shop was closed"  she said.

And breathe.

The picturesque village of Greyton

TD's Birthday Bash

TD turned 16 in the middle of March.  And how grown up she is! As we always do, we asked her to decide the theme for her party, and this year she chose (and which 16 year old wouldn't) PIRATES.  She felt she had missed out on this theme when she was 6, so 16 was a good time to catch up.

This presented a bit of a challenge. Sixteen year olds require a little more than the usual sweet treasure hunt in the back garden and cardboard swords and parrots and rainbow jelly.  All party planning starts with a good breakfast:  Andrew and I choose a cafe, take reams of paper and a couple of pencils and plot out possible party activities.  Ideas tend to start on the grand scale, and thoughts of building a garden size Pirate ship, of firing cannons with real gunpowder, and walking the plank all seemed like good ideas.

Google disagreed.  Apparently gun powder is dangerous and not recommended for home use.  Giant ships take a lot of wood and a long time to build. Walking the plank may not seem like fun to young pirates.  We needed a second breakfast.

Andrew building the ship late at night....

We raced up to party day, fitting in family commitments, hectic work schedules and all the party prep.  But by 6pm on Friday, all was set and the Jolly Roger flags were hoisted.  TD has delightful friends (and a large number of them.)  They all entered into the spirit of the Great Piratical Rumbustification (thanks Margaret Mahy for a fabulous children's book with that title) with great enthusiasm.  We did shoot cannon (tennis) balls at a 2D Pirate ship.  The cannons were spring loaded, so no novice pirates were harmed in the shooting of them.

The main activity for the evening was making treasure chests.  This required a fair amount of preparation and huge dollops of bravery on our part.  Twenty five teenagers wielding hammers, aiming at small nails, using superglue, grinding off sharp nail points proved to be a loud festive occasion - a true Birthday Bash.  The results were astounding.  The treasure chests looked great, but that is not what I am referring to.  The result was a group of 16 year olds co-operating with each other, chatting as they worked, engaged in the moment and being creative.  The astounding result was a celebration of TD with a symphony of hammering.

Andrew and I needed more hands on deck for this activity.  It takes really great friends to arrive on a Friday evening, who don't mind crouching on the dining room floor and a lot of noise. They helped the learner pirates with the basics of carpentry - like which way round a nail goes, and how to remove a wonky tack, with making sure everyone got the right pieces at the right time, and with serving the pudding and answering the queries when our hands are full.  Me Hearties Kathleen, Natalie and Paul ye be fine buccaneers - thank you!

The treasure chest I made may look empty at the moment, but really it is filled with happiness and unseen treasures of thankfulness that we could celebrate TDs 16th birthday.

And diabetes?  It was there, but just for the evening we told it to Walk the Plank.


PS I realise that some of you may be a bit disappointed that diabetes is not the main focus of all my posts.  There is a reason for that.  But if you are looking for more information and some excellent blogs, please have a look at https://blog.feedspot.com/diabetes_blogs/

Mindfulness

TD's mid year exams are over!  As with any stressful period, the adrenalin was free flowing and the glucose numbers soared.  And if the exams were stressful, getting the results back  seemed to cause even greater anxiety.  I am inclined to take the long view about examinations - results are only useful in a context.  And that context is both the collective average of all participants and individual circumstances of each person.  TD was delighted with some results, and disappointed with others.  So, a good mix - some encouragement and some challenges. Considering that the symptoms of hyperglycemia are tiredness, poor concentration and blurred vision, and considering TD spent the entire exam period with elevated glucose levels, I think she did fine.  All the studying in the world is rendered less effective if you cannot concentrate. She worked hard, and I am proud of her.

There are a couple of weeks left before the end of term.  Classes have resumed as usual, with a few extras thrown in.  Today the grade 9s were spoken to by a survivor of the Holocaust and tomorrow the class will take the train into town to see the Holocaust museum.  It is a subject that has absorbed TD's attention and interest; so much so, that she forgot to inject her insulin for lunch.  She remembered to test, but - and she does not do this very often - she simply ate without injecting.  I am not sure if it was because her mind was waging war against the horrors of prejudice, or if she is so used to having diabetes that she just went with the flow of eating forgetting the crucial insulin, or if she has too much on the go.  It doesn't really matter - she just forgot.  Her number shot up so high that she had to sit out of sport after school.  And she is still running high.

Mindfulness - being present in the moment- is a necessary skill for anyone with diabetes.  There is a lot of self care that needs to happen.  TD needs to always be aware of what her body is telling her .  When she is low she has what she calls her "stomach feeling."  When she is low, she shakes.  Going high is more difficult for her to be mindful of, and so she has to practice the art of remembering.  She has to be extra mindful of what she eats and the effects of sport and extreme emotions.  Our pancreases do the job of balancing our sugars and insulin.  TD's pancreas no longer does that for her, and so she  needs her  thoughts and memory to compensate.  She is an excellent student of the Self.

Mindfulness is a necessary skill for all of us, and I think it is a life long project.  It is so easy to slip into yesterday's regrets or tomorrow's worries that often we miss the satisfaction of the present. (I love that the word is made up of two Latin words - "Satis" meaning "Enough" and "facere" meaning "to make.") And Enough is all anyone needs.

We are looking forward to the mid year school holidays - we anticipate huge adventures, a lot of laughter and many memory-making moments.  But more about that later....

In the meantime, I wish you all a Satisfactory Now!

Mindfulness on our favourite beach

Happy birthday TD!

TD had a good day yesterday.  She was beaming and bubbly and full of what I call TDness, or essence of TD!  It was her birthday, and her school friends had decorated her satchel with streamers and ribbons.  Some had hand drawn beautiful cards.  Others had written the kindest messages.  She felt celebrated and loved.

Her TDness rubs off on others too.  On occasions, complete strangers have stopped us in shopping centres, to comment on her happiness and joy.  Her grade 11 sports coach told her that she had “a big smile, lots of friends and diabetes” after her last training session yesterday.  (Her school has a collective sense of humour which helps make it the fine institution it is.)

She is now 15 – well ensconced in her teenage years.  She is a giddy mixture of old world wisdom, youthful optimism and age appropriate cynicism.  She does come unstuck at times.  Sometimes she is just too tired to give the world her TDness, and she needs time to gather her thoughts and rest. Like all of us.  She was so tired on Monday evening that, by mistake, she injected the wrong insulin at bedtime.  Luckily she noticed that she was injecting Apidra (quick acting insulin used to balance the carb ratio at meal times) instead of Lantus ( the basal injection which runs in the background with a slow steady stream of insulin).  This is the first mixup in three years, but it is a scary one.  If she had not noticed, and gone to sleep, she would have gone way too low and…. I don’t even want to think what may have happened.  It was easy to remedy in this case – a glass of sugary drink and a slice of wholewheat bread (quick and slow release carbs respectively) and a blood test every couple of hours or so, and all was well.

We celebrated her birthday at her choice of restaurant last evening, and wandered around the Waterfront, reminding ourselves how beautiful Cape Town is, and how lucky we are to live here.  As usual we missed our son and thought of him while we were celebrating.  He sent her the biggest bunch of beautiful flowers.(Pictured)

Time marches on.  Fifteen years ago TD was new to the family, a delightful bundle of gurgles and perfection.  Nothing much has changed – she is still that delightful - but bigger-

bundle of gurgles and perfection and I am so grateful to have the chance to mother both my children. I acknowledge them as the greatest life teachers anyone could hope for.

(I know "perfection" seems like a heavy label and responsibility.  I don't expect perfection from my children. It's not about what they do - rather about who they are.  They are perfect at being themselves.)

Happy birthday, TD.  Wishing you all the happiness you give to others reflected straight back at you. Put on those new sunglasses – that reflection will be quite dazzling.

Music camp notes

Sometimes words are inadequate, I think.  Some concepts, feelings, delights or horrors can’t always be articulated effectively with the boundaries of letters.  Sometimes we need to look deeper, and for me, that means listening to music.

Of the four of us, I am the only one who does not play an instrument.  I am writing this while waiting for TD at Beau Soleil Music Centre, where she is rehearsing with the strings ensemble.  They play beautifully.  She is also part of the school orchestra, one of three double basses in the 60 strong pupil group (aged between 13 and 18).  This past weekend, the school took all the orchestra, concert band and jazz band learners away on a music camp. (As I have already mentioned, it is a Very Good School.)

If you want parents of T1 teenagers to go weak at the knees and tremble slightly, just say the word “Camp.”  A lot of preparation, care and anxiety goes into sending someone with T1 on a camp.  Apart from the usual clothes, tuck, soap and toothpaste, I packed a loaf of whole wheat bread, sugar free jam, nutella, bottles of water, pronutro –a breakfast cereal- and Ensure (a meal replacement drink).  I also included extra iceblocks, extra insulin, needles, the food diary and a slab of chocolate for slow release evening carbs.  All of this had to fit into the tiniest of cooler bags so that TD didn’t feel too conspicuous, and her luggage blended in with the rest of the group.  (The fact that that her instrument is by far the largest in the orchestra did not escape my ironic sense of humour.)

Before any school camp, I make an appointment to speak to the teachers concerned.  I take along my “Camp Pack.”  It consists of a typed handout I give the teachers, my notes to make sure I verbally cover all the things I feel I want to tell them, an emergency kit and an orange.  I let them know what to look out for in highs and lows, where the potential dangers lie, and what to do if things don’t go according to plan.  I explain the insulin routines – the long acting insulin is injected at 6am and 9.30 pm, and how  the short acting insulin dosage  is calculated at mealtimes.  And then I give them the orange and show them the emergency GlucaGen Hypokit which is given to a person with T1 if they have gone so low  that they are unresponsive and unable to ingest glucose by mouth.  It is a life saving procedure, so I feel it is only fair to give the teachers a practice round.  Mixing the solution and injecting it is not as easy as it sounds, so a trial run is a good idea.

So TD went off to camp on Friday afternoon amid much excitement and a little trepidation.  Of course I worry when she is away: not so much in the day time, because TD is very capable of managing her diabetes and knows (usually) when she is going low.  It is the nights that make me fearful.  When she is asleep, she cannot “read” her body in the same way.  She won’t be aware that she is going low.  And she won’t know how low she is.  This is what I worry about.

All the parents are invited to a concert at the camp on Sunday afternoon, so that we can listen to the groups perform (and take our children home…)  It was a hot, hot day.  Roadworks meant we arrived only 15 minutes before the concert was due to start.  As we took our seats, TD came to say hello.  She had had a good camp.  She was unbelievably pale.  And her glucose reading was 2.2. This is breathtakingly low, and she says it had dropped very quickly.  Two sachets of glucose later, and still looking wispily pale, she and her fellow musicians put on an excellent concert.

This was her second low on the camp :  she had had another scary dip to 3 the day before.

TD made a lot of friends at Music camp.  She spent much of the free time in the pool.  She played card games.  They stayed up too late.  She wasn’t too sure about all the camp food : all the usual teenage camp antics.  It is an enormous responsibility the teachers take on, and I am thankful to the school for adding to TD’s memory bank of happy times.

Music is such a powerful form of communication.  When I listen to the school orchestra, and think about the power of co-operation and collaboration and leadership to bring about beauty and harmony  I find I don’t need any more words for a while.

So – here is a soundbite of the school orchestra for your listening pleasure:

Warriors and Worriers

It is exam time in TD-land.  These exams are the final hurdles in her first year of high school.  It has been a whirlwind of new experiences, new friendships, new subjects.  And a few challenges along the way.

Exam times are pretty gloomy in most households.  There is a heaviness of responsibility, a curbing of free time and even a little social distance as all her classmates creep into their study corners and either study or wait for the three weeks to go by.  Feelings get frayed, tensions escalate.  Glucose levels soar.  If you need confirmation of the stress exams cause to teenagers, have a look at a person with diabetes exam glucose readings. Most exam times, TD gets sick.  This week was no different.  She has been running a temperature, is sleeping badly, and feeling excessively tired.  High glucose numbers can do that to a person.

Hyperglycaemia (too much sugar in the blood) shows itself in blurry eyesight, difficulty in concentrating, tiredness, apathy and irritable behaviour. All of this adds up to stressful exam periods, and of course, the stress causes the glucose levels to rise and so the loop closes.  Tight glucose control is even more important in stressful times so that things don't spiral out of control.

So, in the study breaks, we watch mindless TV shows, go for walks, and TD reads thick books.  She is currently reading the  Magnus Chase series by Rick Riordan.  It uses Norse mythology as a backdrop for page turning adventures of the heroines and warriors.  When we were chatting yesterday, TD used Warrior as her Word Of The Day.  But I misheard - at first I thought she had said "Worrier."

And all of a sudden I had a moment of clarity:  TD is the Warrior, fighting and winning the diabetes battle, and I am the Worrier, the person who is concerned about things going pear shaped.  And that is how it should be - my job is to keep a safe environment for TD to live her life, and her job is to be the heroine in her own story.

Hyperglycaemia is often more difficult to detect than hypoglycaemia.  There is no shaking or paleness.  And the symptoms of hyper all too often look the same as the symptoms of being a teenager. (!)  Water helps to wash the glucose out of the system, and if needed, TD injects some insulin.  It is a constant balancing act to make sure the numbers are neither too high nor too low.

 

I hope whatever examinations or tests or stresses you are facing at the moment are manageable.  I hope your life's balancing act is holding steady. When things get a bit unbalanced around here, I remind myself to keep looking forward, chin up and to always have a safety net! Worriers are warriors too!

Party tricks and food

One of TD's party tricks is that she can wiggle her ears.  It's a family trait passed down from her father's side, and quite impressive to those of us who don't have that level of facial muscle control.

Another party trick is that she can tell you exactly what she ate on any given day for any meal since Christmas 2014.  Admittedly, she will need a moment to look up the info in one of her ten food books, but the information is all there should anyone be interested in such trivia.  We have kept a food diary for TD since diagnosis.  Initially it was a life-saver for us bewildered and frightened parents.  Suddenly mealtimes had to ordered and measured and carbs had to be counted, and we had to make sure TD was getting the right food matched with the right insulin dosages.

Almost three years on and we still write in the book every day.  The format and function have stayed basically the same, but we have expanded the information to include anything notable that happens on a particular day.  So an entry may include "Bad day at school" or " Sleepover at friends." or "Knew she was low - shaking badly"  or even "Celebrating her distinction in music."

All this information is useful - we are able to see how food, stress, life, illness and particular situations influence glucose levels, and we are able to see where adjustments (of food and/or insulin) need to be made.

It serves another function too.  Everyday we sit down and chat to TD about her day - what she ate, what she injected, what the next day holds, how she is feeling - a general catch up. (Not that we didn't talk before - rather this is The Practice of Communicating.)

So there are ten volumes stacked in my cupboard creating a history of TD through food.  Food plays such a pivotal role in our lives - it is a form of communication in itself.  We share meals with friends, express our love and concern for others with a hot meal, celebrate achievements at restaurant tables, bake cakes to mark birthdays.  TD's school has a bring and share cake roster every Wednesday, because it is A Very Nice School.  Memories often are made up, in part, of tastes and flavours.  Recording all this seems like a good idea.

TD has a few other party tricks up her sleeve too.  She can recite long passages from her favourite books.  She can sing in a voice that sounds like Donald Duck. She can rattle off The Goon Show scripts, mimicking the characters' voices. She can inject insulin so efficiently before eating that you might miss it if you blink.  And she can do all of this whilst wiggling her ears at the same time.

Lowdown on reading

Books play a large part in my family's life.  We have distinctive, but overlapping tastes in literature.  I, for example, don't much like science fiction and fantasy (with a few exceptions).  Our son loves both these genres.  I favour modern fiction, and lately, biographies and recent history.  Andrew likes non fiction, a good crime novel and science fiction.  TD reads most things, voraciously and repeatedly!  Each time she rereads a favourite book, she cries at the sad bits, flaps her hands in excitement (I am told it is called "fangirling") at the soppy bits, and leaves the scary parts to read in daylight hours.  Often she walks beside the character right until the last sentence.

None of us can imagine a bookless environment.

Everyone, I think, goes through times in their lives when reading is more difficult.  It usually has to do with our focus not being able to enjoy fictional worlds, because reality is too imposing or serious.  Sometimes my eyes become mirrors and the images of the words bounce off my eyeballs without being comprehended.  I might as well be reading a foreign script.

This is, I imagine, how it feels to try to read when your blood sugars are low.  Your brain hasn't the energy to interpret the squiggles into words, and words into meaning.  Lows are serious stuff .  Hypoglycaemia (the medical term for glucose lows) has a long list of symptoms, including tearfulness, poor concentration, tiredness, confusion and dizziness.  Everyone is different:  TD's lows often make her giggly and always make her shake badly and go very pale.  Research has shown that, although the glucose number should get back to the normal range within 15 minutes if the low is treated properly, the effects of a low last about 60 to 90 minutes.

TD copes well with lows.  Best case scenario is when she can feel herself dipping and can prevent the low from taking hold.  But this isn't always possible, especially at school.  TD is an excellent student - she is intelligent, conscientious and attentive.  (Also, all her reading means she has an excellent general knowledge and robust vocabulary for debating all those issues she is so passionate about...).  Sometimes I wonder if her educators are aware of the effects of her blood sugars on her day.  A test, for example, written shortly after the low is not going to go as well as one would if her blood glucose was in the normal range.  She would never suggest diminished capacity as an excuse for a less than top grade. But I can imagine that when, at school  the world starts floating past you, words slip off a page and meanings become vague, it would be a good time to show some self compassion.  I admire her so much for taking this all in her stride.

Reading allows me to experience the world in larger dimensions.  It offers me the chance to learn, to relax, to marvel and to explore. Good books are like guides through life's journey.  Uninspiring books are useful too - none of our furniture wobbles.

The Power of Friends

Something magical happened when TD was first diagnosed.  Her school friends enfolded her and encircled her in protection and love.  It has been a privilege to watch this process.  Sometimes the encircling has been quite literal - if she needed privacy for testing or injecting, or if she needed support whilst having a low, they would form a protective group around her.  Sometimes the barrier was an emotional one of kindness between her and the harsh realities of diabetes.  Each individual brought something unique and powerful to the friendship - quirkiness (highly valued here!), love, humour, hugs, straight-talking, listening hearts, and a sense of normality.  Friendship can be powerful.

They are a funny group too.  Once, when TD was being questioned yet again why she carries a cooler bag around all the time (it's for her insulin), these 11 year old girls answered on TD's behalf that it was her make up bag, because she needed to touch up her look during the day.  This in a rather strict school environment where dress is uniform and make-up, obviously, forbidden.  Their humour is catching.  Now when we play "Who has the saddest story to earn the last brownie"  (like in the movie Notting Hill) TD usually wins with, "I am diabetic and single."  Well, yes, that is hard to beat, so with an insulin injection of 2 units, she gets the last brownie.

There is nothing funny about T1 diabetes.  Humour is a coping strategy which works well to sometimes lighten the prospect of a lifelong disease.  It can be a lonely business being diabetic.  I am so glad TD has so many good people in her life.

A learning curve

TD's (Teenage Daughter's) school experiences have been interesting.  My newly diagnosed daughter, in grade 6 at the time, ran across the playground at home time, with her arms outstretched gliding like an aeroplane and whooping, "Mom, I am high, I'm high."  There were several skew glances in our direction, and after we had shared the news that it was her glucose levels that were high, and she had drunk a glass or two of water, we left the playground, ignoring the raised eyebrows.  People do stop and stare.  TD refuses to hide her diabetes and happily tests and injects (into her stomach) in public.  A cute little girl in a beginner grade at the school saw her doing this and bravely asked the big grade 6 what she was doing, and TD patiently and using age appropriate language, explained about her pancreas, her lunch bag and her needles.  TD keeps her testing kit, insulin pens, glucose sweets, emergency contact card and info sheet in a cooler bag.  It gets hot here in sunny South Africa, and insulin needs to be kept below 23 degrees C.  This bag is her constant companion, and her (and my) Linus blanket.

TD's grade 6 and 7 class teachers were incredibly kind, compassionate and sensitive.  Both managed to both keep an eye on TD and give her the space she needed to be independent and self confident in her diabetes management.  I spoke to the staff about diabetes generally and TD specifically, and felt a great deal of comfort knowing she was in a safe environment.  It is  not easy letting go of a newly diagnosed diabetic and trusting the universe in her safe keeping. Happily the instances where I was needed at school were few.  Exam times, and the stress associated with them, brought on roller-coasting glucose levels.  Once I was called to the pool for an unspecified problem.  (It took me about three hours to calm my heart rate after that phone call - and the problem was not big.  I have learnt to ask for specific details when phoned, and not just to react and jump in the car - a learning curve for me.)

The Phys Ed teacher also looked after TD with great care, making sure her glucose levels were in the right bands for exercise both before and after sport. I do not take these things for granted.  I am so grateful to the good people who have helped TD gain her confidence, manage her everyday issues and get on with life.  I think she reciprocated their attitude by teaching them about resilience, bravery and determination.