I’m always on the look out for the “why” in having been diagnosed with T1. I’m a true believer that everything does happen for a reason; sometimes it takes years to find the reason. Every once in a while though, I find an answer to the why, and it satisfies me for a period of time. Sometimes the satiation is fleeting – other times it sits, marinates and stays around for a while. I didn’t know that having diabetes is what made me want to be a nurse until long after I became a nurse. I remember deciding to go to nursing school; it wasn’t this incredible, earth-shattering moment where everything became crystal clear. I remember it to be vague and uneventful – more of a well, nursing seems like a good idea type of approach. Years after the decision to give nursing a shot, it occurred to me that my career was chosen for me when I was diagnosed in 2001. I was 110% destined to be right where I am.

Being an insulin pump trainer for a few years now, I’ve had the opportunity to meet so many people. Most trainings are generic, but the encounters that stick with me the most are when I’m training the kiddos and their parents. Most people close to me understand that kids scare the living hell out of me. I don’t usually want to interact with them, hold them or touch them. I’m also uber-paranoid about parents and what they’re going to think of me interacting with their child… do I sound like I know how to speak to their child or do I sound like I have no clue what I’m doing?  Somehow, when these trainings are finished, I leave more fulfilled than I do with any other age group. It actually has minimal to do with the kid, and more to do with the parent(s). 

A recent day was particularly special. I trained two kids – one two-year old and one six-year old. First of all – a two year old with Type One? Cruel world. That’s so hard, and I wouldn’t wish it on any parent or child. Six year olds’ parents were incredible – they’re divorced, but both of them showed up to the training. Honestly, had the mom not previously informed me they were divorced, I would not have known it. The way they interacted was seamless. It was obvious they were on the same team for the sole sake of their daughter. Such mad props. The dad works – owns his own business – while the mom stays at home to take care of the child’s health. Yes, people, Type One Diabetes is a FULL TIME JOB. And when you’re a kid, you can’t manage it on your own, so someone else has to do it. Whatever the details of their particular situation may be, I was beyond impressed and inspired by this set of parents coming together to take care of their kid. 

Second set of parents. Their daughter was a mere two years old, having been diagnosed one year ago. Mom owns her own business, but the business was put on the back burner one year ago when the girl was diagnosed. Can you imagine a one-year old baby having diabetes? A child that age cannot communicate their needs verbally. When my blood sugar is 50, my husband knows it. I can tell him. I can tell him as soon as I start feeling crappy, and he can take over. I can even get up and get my own damn snack sometimes. This little girl can’t do that! Hypoglycemia comes on fast most of the time, so were it not for CGM, the parents may have no other indication their daughter is suffering. This is so scary!

The point here is this – I am inspired. There are horrible parents everywhere, everyday. But right now, I am basking in the joy of having met these incredibly bad-ass parents. There is so much good in the world; selfishly, these encounters remind me of my “why”. My purpose here is so clear.  These moms and dads spend their days carb counting, calculating insulin doses, doing research, trying to make diabetes fun, obsessing over blood sugars, over-instructing nurses, teachers and caregivers; they don’t sleep, and they’re putting their kids’ needs before theirs 100% of the time. 

I am inspired, humbled, reminded and forever grateful.