What a difference a day makes...

...24 little hours.

Within this particular 24 little hours we discovered Oliver has diabetes. 

It feels like, within minutes, our lives changed forever.

I am sure that every parent, who gets told something life-changing feels like this.  Stunned. 

For us, there was no big build up - no advance warning - wham.  There you go, your kid's life will be more difficult for him - for ever. 

Oliver had been, suddenly, drinking loads, exceptionally unusually wetting the bed a few times and a  bit tired.  Being the sort of people Mark and I are, (paranoid parents), anything a bit extraordinary sets off alarm bells, and so Internet poking about was done, and an appointment was booked with our Doc, and on Thursday, her considered tone in uttering the word 'right,' set off alarms bells that signalled the end of life as we knew it. 

I drove straight from there to the hospital where we received the most caring of care, attention and support for two very long days, while we three had to adjust to the news our son had type 1 diabetes - for good. There is no reason why - no hereditary factors, no dietary factors - his pancreas does not produce enough insulin to  transfer sugars from foods into the body.  There it is.  That's it.  Oliver must now face an immediate future of 4 insulin injections per day, plus numerous finger-pricking blood glucose tests. 

I have to say, I just feel an immense sadness.  I feel sad his life is so fractured in this way, and so sad that the 'normality' of food he so enjoyed has gone for good. 

He has been wonderful.   He did cry.  Quite a few times.  His tears flow when the realisation that this is forever overwhelms him.  He has not cried over insulin jabs, nor the inconvenience of having his mealtimes scrutinised or the fact he can no longer freely eat whatever and whenever he likes.  (You have to know Oliver to appreciate the blow to his week this is).  His attitude to blood sugar tests and jabs 4+ times a day has been impressive.  He has done them all himself for the last day or so, and he seems to have a full grasp of what diabetes is, and what it means for him.  Our pride in his attitude is at bursting point. 

We came home this afternoon, and at the moment, we have to telephone the paediatric diabetes nurse before each meal, to tell her what he is going to eat, and after a blood sugar test, so she can tell us what insulin level he must inject in order to cope with the sugar levels in the food we are giving him.

Every time he says he is hungry, my stomach lurches, because I have to think 'What can I give him? What will this do to his blood sugar level? What will fit in with the meals he is having today? What time is it?'  I know for sure we will get on with this - it will be second nature within weeks,  I have no doubts.

I said as much to Oliver tonight as he prepared his overnight insulin, and then it hit me that this was to be our new reality, and the way we have lived with him for nine years is over for good.

That's when I felt like collapsing into self-indulgent, useless tears. 

But I didn't.   Not right now.