The Rabbit under the bed

Arriving late to a funeral is bad form.  Our timing was all off on Sunday, and we were running spectacularly late for a lunch in celebration of Andrew’s Aunt’s life.  The family are the kindest, gentlest, most welcoming people in the world, and they were not bothered by our tardiness at all.

One of the reasons (but not the only…) we were behind schedule was because TD had a low.  She plummeted from 3.5 (which is already low) to a staggering (literally) 2.3.  The Super Cs didn’t touch it, so she had a Chocolate Gu (a brand name for flavoured glucose).  Barely able to walk, she staggered to the car and we set off.  The effects of a low can last a long time – much longer than it takes for the glucose number to rise.  She was feeling off well into the afternoon.

There was a lot of emotion flowing at the luncheon.  Aunt Hazel had died surrounded by her family, in a home she loved, with a bunny under the bed. (It’s a free range rabbit I was told, and often naps on the bed in the afternoon sunshine.)  Andrew’s cousins and some of the grandchildren spoke of this remarkable lady who set out to enjoy every minute of her 92 years.  It was a profoundly simple and honest celebration.

Death is a difficult topic to broach on the best of days, and yet it shapes so much of our lives, and how we see ourselves.  Time becomes consciously precious, a limited resource.  A gift if you like.   

To be brutally honest, one of the consequences of a person with diabetes going too low is Death.  It does not happen to many people, but it does happen.  How do you not frighten a teenager with this thought while still imploring them to look after themselves?  Yes – teenagers die of many things – accidents, abuse, illness, the proverbial bus…. Diabetes just adds one more liability to the list.  I have told TD it will not happen on my watch, and I am determined to keep that promise.  And she will play her part in looking after herself and asking for help when she needs it.  You see, when she is low, her behaviour can be erratic – a mixture of utter fatigue, shakiness and silliness.  And at night when she is low, she is asleep and looks just the same as when she is not low and asleep. 

I imagine any parent cannot bear the thought of anything awful happening to their child.  I know I can’t.  And while I can live my life and carry on with daily routines, diabetes lurks under the surface of our family, like a monster under a child’s bed.

The fear of monsters is the fear of the unknown and dangerous.  If we can acknowledge our fears, and drag them out into the open, maybe the monsters will turn into something softer and more comforting.  When TD and I needed a little space at the celebration lunch, we went to talk to the rabbit under the bed.  I think looking for the rabbit instead of the monster might just be a calmer way of living.

 And to Hazel : your legendary zest for life is an inspiration.