Let's play would you rather, okay? Here you go.
Would you rather…
Take the time to dress everyday to present a good image to those around you?
Dress like a bum (or for the gym, etc.) and run the risk of people thinking this is what you look like all the time.
(Have you seen this meme before?)
I've been a little tired lately. Not just from my usual struggles dealing with insurances, doctors, pharmacies, and so on. Not just from waking up in the middle of the night to correct a high blood sugar or coax sugar down the throat of my sleeping child whose blood sugar was crashing.
But physically tired from something that has nothing to do with diabetes. (Imagine that! There's more to life than diabetes sometimes.) Still, since I was not feverish or injured on this particular day, I went to the gym. Because I do that.
As you can imagine, I came home more tired than before I went. Rejoicing in the fact that I had no appointments, lessons, or practices to which I would need to take any children in the evening, I decided to bum out.
After my shower, I put on no make-up. I didn't dry my hair. I couldn't get into my jammies, because there was still a child I needed to pick up after school. But since that didn't involve getting out of the car, I threw on some bummy clothes. An old shirt with a big coffee stain on it. Jeans that had holes in all kinds of wrong places, but so comfy.
Then I sat back and watched the rain outside. The pouring rain. It made me sleepy, and I almost took a nap. Almost.
It was odd for me not to have planned for this, but of course, that's probably exactly why it happened. The call from the school nurse. At dismissal time. Three out of five days this week, I had to pick her up from school because her blood sugar was too low to ride the bus. This was one of those days.
Doggone it! No nap.
The secretaries at her school have seen me in all kinds of states. I used to sub in the school, so they saw me ready to teach. But lately, they have seen me like I was on this day. And bless them, no one pointed out the holes in my jeans that no one was supposed to see. (I didn't have time or energy to change my clothes before going to pick her up.)
Once I was called in the middle of a racquetball game and told that her Dexcom transmitter - a small grey device not bigger or heavier than a quarter that attaches to a needle inserted in her arm to read her blood sugar - had fallen off her body at some point around lunch time. That little piece of plastic can be replaced… at my out of pocket cost of a few thousand dollars. So, I left the court, sweaty and smelly, and headed to school. The cafeteria was empty, and the custodians were asked not to clean up until I looked around.
So, you got it. I went through the trash cans - the elementary school lunch trash cans - to find that pricey piece of plastic. After only 2 cans, can you believe it? I found it! Then I walked down the hall of the school to the nurse's office, sweaty, smelly, and now covered in trash. (Though I had a huge smile on my face, having saved that money.)
That may have been my lowest, but that's who I am now. That parent who shows up at school at any point in the day in any just-rolled-out-of-bed condition. Sometimes when I ring the doorbell at the school, I am hoping the secretary doesn't actually recognize me in my messy state, but (*sigh*) she always does.
So when you see me at Target, looking much like a slob, just know that, yes I am aware I am in public. I just don't care a whole lot anymore. Enough people have seen me at my worst that I no longer fear it.
Now, listen. I know. The worst part of diabetes is NOT how I look. It's not even about me at all. It's just another thing I want people to know about. Other D-Moms (as well as parents of other children with special needs) are saying "Yes!" and high-fiving me while in their own yoga pants and messy ponytails. And it gives non-D parents one more thing to be thankful for - the blessing of choosing whether or not you want to get dressed for the day.
While We Are Waiting...
My youngest child was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes in 2014, when she was 7 years old. This blog tells the stories from our life with T1D, while we are waiting for a cure!