Seven years ago, my daughter Madi was a very active, creative, outgoing kindergartner. She was a happy and healthy 5-year-old.
That February things started changing. Her teacher was reporting that Madi seemed tired, pale, and "spacy" before lunch, and was having trouble paying attention. And after lunch Madi started complaining that her stomach hurt, and she seemed lethargic and occasionally cried for no apparent reason. Though Madi had always loved school, I was concerned that she was having trouble adjusting.
Soon, Madi began complaining of being thirsty all the time, requesting drinks in the middle of the night, and then wetting the bed. Her height and weight weren't increasing as they should have been.
In March, after eating a piece of candy after ballet class Madi felt nauseous and was glassy eyed. Her dad has type 1 diabetes, as does my mom, so as much as I didn't want to, deep down I knew what was happening. We tested her blood sugar that night: It was 585, a number I won't ever forget.
We went to the emergency room. At the hospital, it took more than an hour for five medical technicians to get an IV started. Once they were able to start Madi on insulin, she quickly turned back into the loving, easy-going child I knew. But she was very scared. Each time they tested her blood sugar, Madi insisted on having a Band Aid. Each injection required a Band Aid too. By the end of the day she was covered in Band Aids, but no closer to accepting her illness.
The next day she met with a dietitian and a diabetes educator. When her pediatrician visited, she tried hard to get him to say that it would "go away" once she was released from the hospital.
As Madi struggled to understand her diagnosis, her dad and my mom struggled with feelings of guilt about possibly passing diabetes on to Madi.
Once Madi realized that diabetes does not go away, she accepted responsibility for testing her own blood sugar. (She also learned that her life would be easier if her fingers were not covered in Band Aids.) Within a few months of diagnosis, Madi was giving her own injections and learning to count carbohydrates in foods. She joked that having diabetes helped her learn her numbers to 600 while other kindergartners were still trying to learn their numbers to 20.