Have you ever been on a rollercoaster? Other rides make pretty sounds and have pretty colors, but that doesn’t compare to the exhilaration of travelling upside down or doing loop the loop at 100 kilometres an hour. I love the anticipation of the slow climb up, up, up, then the wild feeling of being out of control until the next climb. It can take your breath away.
My name is Mel. I have two beautiful children and a loving husband. We live in an average house in an average street. I have a job but the career that I find the most challenging is motherhood. My children make me laugh in uncontrollable raptures, cry happy tears, worry more than I ever thought I could. Like most mothers, when my children are in pain I wish that I could bear it myself.
I also feel blessed to have my big sister Kerrie as my best friend and confidante. We are inseparable, speaking on the phone 3 and 4 times each day. We are always in each other’s homes. I tell Kerrie all my secrets.
Kerrie has three beautiful sons. Harrison 15, Charlton 11 and Fletcher, who at 9 years old has always been a cheeky bundle of energy. We forgive him a lot since it is a little miracle that he is even alive today. Things could have gone wrong so easily.
Looking back, my sister knew that something serious was wrong with her Fletch. Despite being twice told by GPs that he had a virus and that paracetamol would do the trick, she could feel it. It might have been a mother’s intuition or just close observation. Kerrie saw the glint fade from Fletchy’s eyes and the glow come off his skin. She saw him struggle with the tiredness of an old man. In the face of dismissal from doctors, she continued to believe there was more to it than a virus.
When the vomiting began, Kerrie knew she had been right to persist. Another GP talked again about a virus and prescribed an anti-nausea medication. A gastro-intestinal specialist (when someone thought it might be appendicitis) again talked about a virus.
Finally my desperate sister took her son to the Emergency Room, and the triage nurse saw it straight away. A quick blood sugar test, the first of countless thousands, and Fletcher was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, his blood glucose in the high 40’s. Dehydrated, close to death, and only 8 years old. The future was sealed. Life changed forever.
Kerrie didn’t call. Kerrie was in shock. My sister’s rollercoaster had suddenly taken a different course. The highs are much higher now and the drops, oh so fast, your stomach feels like it is in your throat.
What could I do? Well, I did what all best friends do. I took a change of clothes and a balloon that said ‘Get Well Soon’. A ridiculous statement to use when someone has been given the diagnosis of type 1 diabetes; there is no cure. But I was just learning, and I still have so much to learn about this damn disease.
Gradually, the cheeky glint in Fletcher’s eyes somehow came back. Our family pulled together and tried to learn all we could. Folders, information booklets, grandpa surfing the internet.
We quickly discovered that everyone knows someone who has diabetes. However most of those people have type 2 diabetes. I can’t count all the conversations. ‘No it wasn’t too many lollies’, ‘No, he’s not obese – he is active and healthy and beautiful’, ‘No, type 1 diabetes is not the same as type 2’, ‘No he will never grow out of it or recover’, ‘No the insulin doesn’t just make him better’. No No NO! So many no’s and not enough yes’s.
Fletcher’s return to school was hard. Kerrie goes now each day with him. There is some support but not enough for Kerrie to trust that her treasured child will not suddenly drop without anyone noticing. Fletcher is the first and only child at his school with type 1 diabetes and self medication is beyond him for now.
For me one of the most confronting moments was watching Fletcher inject himself. I cried, because he is just a little boy. I can see the pain on Kerrie’s face but I can only ever imagine the pain she is feeling with every prick of the finger, every injection in his little tummy.
For now my sister is awake most nights doing BGL tests and fighting her fears. As the mother of a recently diagnosed child with type 1 diabetes, she has more information than anyone needs about the possibilities of her child’s sudden demise.
As sister and best friend, our days of shopping treks across town are a distant memory. Our conversations about home makeovers have switched to the simple issues of JDRF – what can we do to make a difference? I try my hardest to make Kerrie laugh, but many times I feel like crying when she relays stories from the other ‘D’ mums.
The other day Fletcher asked his grandmother if he could come for a sleepover. His Nanni’s answer? ‘Of course you can Fletchy, just make sure you bring your Mum.’
Life, well this is it. When you get your ticket you can never be sure what track your rollercoaster is going to take. I am on the ride with Kerrie, holding her hand as tightly as I can.
If you have the same ticket we might just see you there.