So I have been bugging my mom for a while to write a guest post for my blog. And she emailed me this last night! Yay! As you would expect, my mom remembers my diagnosis differently than I do. Here’s what she remembers:
Precious Jessica’s diaversary. WOW – eighteen years – really? My memories of her D diagnosis are somewhat different, yet the same. I have a lot of trouble looking at those pictures of her 10th birthday. WHY didn’t I know? But can’t really go there – need to spread the guilt around some – not use it all up at one time…
It was Friday, August 13th, and we had gone to her well check up. We were told that Jessica’s bgs were elevated (via dipstick) so we went for a blood draw. The call came at dinner, from the doc himself. “Jessica’s bgs is 597. Which hospital do you want to take her to tomorrow?” WHAT? We had no health insurance and my husband was unemployed. I spent a sleepless night on my face before God, pleading for His help. Just how was this going to work? GOD – that’s how.
At the beginning of that summer, I’d gotten a part-time job at a home infusion company. After Jessica’s diagnosis, that same company GAVE us all her insulin, syringes, alcohol wipes. ketone strips, glucagon – everything we needed except the test strips. And that continued until we got health insurance. God.
For the next 8-9 years, the local children’s hospital worked with me to let me pay for her quarterly endo visits, meters, test strips, etc. at a pace I could manage. And if you could have seen my checkbook – you’d know Who it was. God.
My husband – who is deathly afraid of needles – cooperated when I told him that Jessica would be ‘shooting’ us as often as she wanted to. God.
Staying in Jessica’s hospital room, while she flitted around, making friends, learning about how to take care of her D, playing games. I wasn’t allowed to leave – but she was hardly ever in the room – my social butterfly. God.
Jessica’s room and floor mates: her roommate who had been in the hospital for more than a year after a serious car accident left her w/spinal cord injuries; the little girl next door who screamed all night long; the CF kids who had to be cupped and whose prognosis wasn’t good; the kids with cancer. Perspective. God.
Two seizures in the middle of the night. Jess’ room downstairs, ours upstairs. How did I know to get up and run downstairs? God.
Jess has only been hospitalized twice. Her initial diagnosis and when she got her pump. God.
After dinner Thursday night, Jess sat down next to me and said “Saturday is the 13th.” August 13th. Eighteen years. Amazing. God.
Thanks for the beautiful post, Mom. And thank you for taking care of me for so long. I love you!
