Every Day is a Winding Road...

...but sometimes it's a big fat u-turn. Wow! It's been a VERY LONG TIME since I last posted and do I have a lot to tell! You know how you're just coasting through life; doing what needs to be done, enjoying little accomplishments, making progress here and there then "BAM!" something reaches out, grabs you, spins you around, and starts you on a completely different path? Well that is what happened to me just a few short weeks after my last post.

Tom and I took a weekend trip to Chicago to celebrate our 18th anniversary and to reset and reconnect after volleyball season. The boys stayed at home, under frequent checks from Grandma Sue, and survived with only a little drama. On our way home, we swung by Connor's cross country track meet, the final one of the season. Connor started out the season doing quite well, surpassing personal-best times and finding himself in the middle of the pack rather than the back, as was the case last year. You'll recall that all the boys were sick immediately following Homecoming week, around the first of October. Connor returned to cross country practice and competition shortly following his illness and was struggling a bit....which I attributed to mild dehydration and being worn down from being sick. He started to complain about being more thirtsy and tired than usual. I began to notice that he was losing some weight, looked pale, and was a bit grouchy. Again, I attributed this to the stress of the season and normal teenage behavior. His performance at meets was beginning to show that something else was going on.

Allow me to explain that Connor is my most dramatic child. He's also a bit like that children's poem about the little girl with the little curl ....."when she was good, she was very very good but when she was bad, she was horrid". Now on any given day, I can have a lot of drama and angst in my home with three teenage boys and a husband who is very passionate about everything from teaching to coaching to how laundry is folded. I love them all very dearly and can't imagine my life without them but there are some days....

I started noticing that Connor's clothes weren't fitting him quite right and he was beginning to look a bit gaunt. A few days after our return from Chicago, I asked him to get on the scale. He had lost 12 pounds in less than three weeks. I'm sure you can image the thoughts that raced through my head; is he eating, is he purging, is there something else going on that I've completely missed? The following day, I made an appointment with our family physician and ordered blood work. I had no idea what to expect. I asked Connor all the tough questions a parent hopes they don't ever have to ask their child. Keep in mind that I am very close and intimate with each of my children. I'm not delusional enough to think that I know everything that goes on in their lives but I can confidently say that my kids are comfortable talking to me about what is going on, even the tough stuff. I couldn't imagine that I had missed something so significant as an eating disorder, or worse yet, involvement in drugs. Not my sweet Connor...

On our way to the doctor, Connor and I had a good talk and he expressed his frustration at what was going on with his body and vented about a few comments teachers at school had made. My mom had mentioned the possibility that with his excessive thirst, Connor could be diabetic. I couldn't fathom that as a option considering the fact that there is no diabetes in my family, on either side. Besides, Connor is thin, fit, active, and eats fairly healthy for a teenage boy.

I assured him that, whatever it was, we would handle it and figure out what to do. While visiting with the doctor, Connor kept mentioning his excessive thirst, which in turn made him have to visit the bathroom often. He told the doctor that he made himself a 2 quart pitcher of Kool-Aid, drank it all in thirty minutes, and was still thirsty. At that point, the doctor asked for a urine sample to rule out some possibilities while we waited on the results from the blood draw.

What happened next was the most devastating thing I have ever experienced in my entire life. The doctor returned to the room with a packet of papers in his hand; information about ketoacidosis and Type 1 Diabetes. WHAT?!?!?!? How could this be?! How could my sweet, loyal, beautiful baby boy have this?! What next? Where do we go from here? How do I protect him, keep him safe, make this better?! What did I do wrong?! Why him?!

We still needed to wait on the results of the blood tests to confirm the doctor's suspicions so we sat on the little examination table, held each other, and cried. Cried for the unknown, for innocence lost, for hope that the urine test was horribly wrong. Cried for each other and wondered how we would make it through this.

The urine test wasn't wrong. Connor's blood glucose was 605; normal range is 70-120.

Upon the advice of our doctor, I took Connor to the University of Iowa emergency room where the first chapter of our new life began. Connor is insulin dependent and must give himself a shot four times each day, every day. He must test his blood glucose/sugar level at least five times each day, every day. During track season or when he is ill or just doesn't feel right, that number increases to six or seven, depending on the day. He is on what is called a Constant Carbohydrate diet which means he must have between 80-85 carbs for each meal; no more, no less. He also must have a 20 carb snack in the afternoon and before bedtime. Gone are the days of eating what and when he wants. Gone is the carefree life and habits of a teenager. Gone is the world we once knew.

Connor is an amazing, resilient child. He has handled all of this beautifully and I am so proud of him. It's not easy, in fact it just plain sucks, but he is handling it with a maturity that astounds me. Does he have days where he just wants to scream at the world? Of course. So do I.

How has this affected me? Honestly, I'm a mess. Under my mature, "I can handle anything" facade, I'm a mess. I'm a stuffer, a blamer, a worrier, a "fixer upper"....well, I can't fix this. I haven't been in the pool since this happened. I've almost made it there several times but just can't bring myself to do it. I suppose some part of me thinks this was God's way of telling me that I was beginning to place too much focus on myself and my goals. Was I? I'm full of self-doubt. I wonder how I'm going to get through this; all the while showing a strong front for everyone else. I feel as though I've left a piece of myself behind and I'm on the verge of breaking inside.