Conversations about Diabetes.

Tonight we celebrated my youngest and his milestone of eight years of living with Type 1 Diabetes.  Since the evening was all about him, I let him choose where we would go for dinner.

Despite his brothers’ persuasive arguments for Red Lobster and Chile’s, L was personally torn between Wendy’s and Chipoltle.  He wanted both.  So in an effort to make this a night to remember, we went through the Wendy’s drive-thru for one “Son of a Baconator” and carefully cut it into four pieces to serve as an appetizer to our Chipoltle.

Yeah.  He said I was the best mom ever.  (Blush)

Anyway, sitting in Chipoltle we chatted a bit, and then got to reminiscing.

“Hey L?  Do you remember life before diabetes?”  He was diagnosed at 2 years old, so I already knew the answer.  He gave me a somber, “No.”

B chimed in though.  “I do!  I remember chocolate milk before diabetes.”

He was diagnosed at 5.

“What about you, J?” 

“You’re hilarious, Mom.”  Said whilst slapping his knee and rolling his eyes at the same time.  Diagnosed at 8 months old, he’s got a fire in him that is unmatched.

Later in the car the question was asked, “If the world threw their problems in a pile, and you could throw in your Diabetes…what would you pick instead of Diabetes.”

“I would pick being allergic to cheese.”  Says the teenager.

“So, you would choose being lactose intolerant?”

“Wait.  That would mean giving up milk.  Never mind.  I’ll keep diabetes.”

Ideas were thrown around left and right.

“Would you give away your diabetes for a pinky finger that had no bones?  Like it was a rubber snake, and just flung around all the time.”

That was a no.

“But I would give my left arm for a cure.” Says B.

“It’s really hard to button your pants with one arm.”  Retorts J.

“You’re right.  Diabetes stays I guess.”

The conversation took a turn to cures.

B offered this: “If our diabetes could be cured by 50 scorpion stings, and then you had to EAT the scorpion…would you do it?”

“Could I sauté it in butter?” Asked J.

“No.  You have to eat it live.”

“Then no.  I wouldn’t do it.”

My youngest then chimed in.  “I would drink anything for a cure.  Even if it made me throw up!  Even if it made me have diarrhea for days!  Any side effect…except dying.  I wouldn’t drink it if it made me die.”

“What if there was a magic potion that cured half the people and killed the other half.  Would you drink it?”  Asked the Tween.

There was a thoughtful pause and then they all agreed, no.  They wouldn’t take it.

“Yeah, anything that could make me dead, or give me cancer…it’s not happening.” Said my baby.

Crickets.  Just a whole lot of nothing for a couple minutes.

It all ended with my oldest saying he’d trade his problems for my problems.

“Really?” I ask.  “You really want my problems??”

And he answered, “Yeah.  You’re Mom.  You don’t have problems.  You’re awesome.”

And that tells me I must be doing something right, because apparently they think I’ve got it all together.

Man.  I’ve got them fooled. 

Diabetes may be around for a while, but it seems my boys have some idea how fortunate they are despite the craptasticness of it all.

I certainly wouldn’t give them my problems for theirs, but if there was a way for me to absorb Type 1 Diabetes away from them and into me?

Sign me up, people.  Sign.  Me.  Up.

In June B will celebrate 7 years of Type 1, and I realized that will make 30 years of diabetes combined in the Schuhmacher household.

In the meantime I’m google-ing “Eating a raw scorpion.”  Maybe it won’t be as bad as we think.

(Also, today is the day we're wrapping up the Spare A Rose Campaign.  Please read THIS post and direct as many of your friends as possible to sparearose.org.  When you're done, leave a comment  on the aforementioned post to enter to win a box of love.  HINT: Little Lenny is involved! Thank you!)