Diagnosis: Type 1 Diabetes

 

May 7, 2013…3 pm

I sat at my desk and watched my 4-year-old go potty for about the fourth time in an hour.  It had been like that for about three days.  I thought it was strange…maybe she had a urinary tract infection…maybe she was just keeping herself really hydrated.  But at about 3 pm, exactly two years ago, a thought occurred to me that maybe…just maybe…it was diabetes.  My little brother was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when he was thirteen and the memories of him in the days before his diagnosis came flooding back…the excessive drinking and urinating was one of the things I remembered most.

My heart began to race a little.  I grabbed my phone to call a friend of ours who is a physicians assistant, I left him a message, but couldn’t wait to hear back from him.  My intuition was telling me to just put her in the car and take her to the clinic.  And that’s what I did.  I called Justin and told him what I was thinking.  He left work and headed to meet us at the clinic.  I woke up my napping toddler, strapped both kids into their car seats and off we went.  On the way, I called my mom because knowing that she went through the same thoughts 18 years earlier, she would understand my sense of urgency more than anyone.

When we got to the clinic, I filled out the paper work and at the bottom of the form was a question asking the reason for our visit to the clinic today.  It was not on the list, so I checked the “other” box and wrote in “diabetes?”

I remember giggling with Mackenna about how silly it was to try and go pee-pee into a cup.

I remember waiting for what felt like HOURS for the doctor to come back in and tell us the result of her urine test.

I remember the doctor looking straight into my eyes and saying these words that I will never forget, “Mackenna has diabetes.”

I remember hot tears forming immediately because I knew what that meant.  I knew a new kind of life would be necessary.  I knew she would be hospitalized and she would be scared.  I knew she would need to get used to multiple pokes and injections every day for the rest of her life.

I remember that the doctor continued to talk, but I didn’t hear any of it.  I just wanted to hold my girl, who was confused about why her mommy was crying.  I wanted to hold her and go back to yesterday so badly.  And at the same time, I wanted to rush out of that clinic and get her to the hospital as quickly as I could so the chaos within her little body could not get any worse.

My husband drove the kids home and I followed them in his car.  I called my mom first.  Through tears and a shaky voice all I said was, “She has it.  She has it.  Can you come?” Then I hung up the phone and cried…prayed…and cried until I pulled into our driveway.

We threw a few things into a bag, called someone to meet us and pick up our 2-year-old from the hospital, and drove (probably too fast) to Children’s Hospital in St. Paul, Minnesota.

I won’t go into the details of our hospital stay, but will share some images.  I had my camera there at the hospital with us, but I couldn’t get myself to use it.  I get so much joy from photography and it just didn’t seem right to mix something I enjoy so much with this diagnosis and new life that I really just hated.  So I used my phone.  The images are not quality, but they tell a part of her story…our story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day was Friday.  It was beautiful outside, so we ventured out to one of Mackenna’s favorite parks.  And I took my camera.  Because it was a happier time.  We were home.  We still had our giggly, silly, caring, beautiful little girl in our lives.  And she was loving every minute of her play time at the park.  It felt alright to take a “good” photo again.

 

That was two years ago.  Today is Mackenna’s diaversary, the anniversary of the day she was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.  We choose to celebrate it.  Not because we want to remember that awful day, but because we want to acknowledge how far we’ve come, how proud we are of our little hero, and how despite struggle, God is still good.

The very first prayer my heart uttered to God after I heard those dreaded words, “Mackenna has diabetes,” was “Please, Lord do not let this steal her joy.”  Actually it wasn’t so much a heart uttering as it was a begging, a pleading for mercy…that He would protect her sweet and silly spirit and not allow the struggle ahead to make her bitter or angry, lonely or sad.  If you’ve been lucky enough to have spent any amount of time with Mackenna since that day two years ago, you know that the Lord heard that prayer.  Quite often, Mackenna is the joy before me.  Our God is good.