Wearing my heart on my sleeve

My heart is a fragile place at the moment, - it has been a bumpy week. Yesterday we dropped our son at the airport, waving him off to start the next chapter in his adventures. Saying goodbye to him at the airport is not uncommon – he has travelled a lot in the last ten years, and with such regularity that we joke that we have our own reserved parking bay at the parking garage. But yesterday’s goodbye seemed different. Perhaps it is because I am feeling a little vulnerable at the moment; perhaps because his stay at home was much needed family time; perhaps it’s because goodbyes have been especially difficult this year. He was sensitive enough to pick up on my reaction and apologised if his departure was going to blow the tissue budget for the month, and reassured us he will keep in touch and be back for a visit soon.

TD’s week has been bumpy too. On Tuesday her glucose numbers were dangerously high.  Her Whatsapps messages sounded as though she was distressed. Quite rightly too – Glucose numbers above 20 are scary. I gave her the usual advice (inject extra insulin and drink water, and test regularly.) It didn’t work. Instead of lowering the glucose number she went up. We checked with the endocrinologist that we were on the right track –she confirmed we were, and if the stubborn high didn’t go down and if TD had ketones in her blood, she would need to be hospitalised. I didn’t relay the second part of the message to TD, but she sussed out the situation accurately. Her next reading was still high, and I decided to fetch her from school. Her text  message read “Please don’t take me to hospital.” Followed by: “Promise.”

This was not a promise I could make – and I was heartsore to know that sometimes, as parents, we have to do the unwanted or unpopular to keep our children safe. TD has an immense fear of  hospitals, and as our last experience there was less than optimal, it is not a particularly welcome thought for me either. But the truth is, that if the glucose in the blood is too high, TD would need to be put on a drip.

At home, TD pumped more and more insulin into her system drank litres and litres of water and we watched a movie to relax. Ketones were 0.1 so we could breathe easier. It worked. She  was still high, but below 15, so not only did we avoid the hospital scenario, but she was also able to go back to school to see the student plays production. This was very important to her.

The rest of the week was a rollercoaster ride of glucose numbers.  She soared back to above the twenties and dipped into the low fours.  I am aware, again, how much she deals with on a daily basis, and how maturely she deals with it all.  We changed insulin vials, and eventually changed insulin type.    The schools are on a short break, and I am hoping this will give her body - and my heart - a chance to catch up and settle down to our usual patterns.  Deep breaths, sleep and lots of tea should do the trick!

But it is only September....

2017's attempt

 

2016's look

For the past few years, I have approached November with a bit of a sigh.  Andrew has taken on the challenge of Movember – growing a moustache to raise awareness and fundraising for prostate cancer.  The hairy upper lip is not my favourite look on him to be honest, and he hams it up by choosing outrageous styles which he cultivates with great care.  I count the 30 days and tolerate this hirsute project.  But this year, I will not sigh, because this year it is personal.

Andrew was diagnosed with prostate cancer in March.  It has thrown us all a bit, not least him.  I can write about it now, because in July he had surgery to remove the prostate and on Monday we got the good news that he is probably clear.  Sometimes, whilst enduring something awful, I find it easier just to shut up and bottle it all in.  When the crisis is looking less threatening I can articulate how it was – that is just the way I am.  The surgery went well – Andrew’s doctor is one of the few trained and skilled in robotic surgery for the prostatectomy.  So instead of a very long scar down his abdomen, he has five smaller wounds.  He was booked off work for four weeks and – for someone who uses every second of every day –  I was a little surprised and grateful that he slept for most of it. 

It is hard to describe what it feels like to watch a partner fall ill with a dread disease.  Lots of things spring to mind: Like all the dreams and unfulfilled projects that we really should have given more time to: Like what is really important in life and how important balance is;  Like are we practically equipped to deal with illness.

We had a policy – we would tackle whatever was thrown at us together.  So I go with to all the doctor’s and physiotherapist’s appointments, make notes and talk about all the possibilities with him.

There has been a lot of sadness this year, and a lot to cope with. 

This November I will embrace the month of the moustache with much more enthusiasm.  Andrew has been very good about spreading the word to all people who will listen – Men- get your annual PSA level checked.  Take your health seriously.  There is nothing embarrassing about body parts and functions.  Talk about things.

I am very grateful for the skill of the medical community in Cape Town.  Andrew’s next check up is in 6 weeks.  We are hoping the good news continues and we can breathe a little easier.  Both this cancer scare and TD’s diabetes have made me realize we shouldn’t take health for granted.  

Carpe diem, and all that…..