A Tribute, of sorts

by Steve

Franca and I work very hard and with much thought to not let Lia’s diabetes bring her down. There are good days and there are bad days and sometimes we have to work much harder and be much more creative than others. But the human spirit is resilient and we’ve found that sometimes all we have to do is let parenting get out of the way. It’s never easy to see this from just Lia’s perspective, but in most cases, Lia’s perspective is truly all that matters.

For instance:

One morning not long ago, my work was interrupted by a visit from Krista, our teenage daughter. Though I was very busy, I stopped what I was doing and gave her my attention.

Can you believe it? she said with excitement. It’s here, it’s here. It’s finally here.

What’s here? I asked.

The Hunger Games! she exclaimed.

Oh, right. I turned back to my work.

Aren’t you excited? she asked.

Very, I said. Maybe now you’ll stop obsessing so much over it.

Never, she answered and she smiled broadly and then skipped happily out of the office.

It’s true. She had been planning for the movie’s opening day for some time, had bought her ticket a month in advance and gotten her hands on every article of licensed clothing she could, every magazine, every photo. Now that the hour was almost upon her, her joy was simply too much to contain. For certain, it seemed to have the will and energy to last forever.

A couple of hours later, I was still in my office going over my notes for a research presentation I was providing to my local chapter of the JDRF later that night. The subject was the Artificial Pancreas Project and I was looking over the slide deck, when Lia came strolling in. What’s that? she asked, pointing to a picture of a small, handheld device.

That, I said, enables a continuous glucose monitor to talk to a pump to help manage blood sugars better. I scrolled back a couple of slides, to show her how the three things worked.

You mean they talk?

It’s like talking, I said. The CGM sends blood sugars to that smart phone-looking thing and it tells the pump how much insulin to give, or not give, as may be the case.

Lia’s face lit up. How cool is that!

Right, I know.

Can I see that first picture again?

I clicked back to it and I watched her face and she was smiling still and I could see her mind working through what that might possibly mean for her and I was surprised by her excitement and at thoughts that might be at that moment soaring through her head as she imagined the difference such a small, complicated thing would have on her every day life. And then I remembered back to earlier in the day and compared her joy to that of my oldest and the premiere of The Hunger Games.

Two children. Both thrilled. Each by something different.

Was it sad? Yes, to me it was sad as it highlighted something we struggle with everyday, keeping diabetes in its place, not letting it have free rein over everything else in life.

But after I thought about it, it proved something else to me, too, about diabetes, and especially about Lia. It proved that inspiration flows both ways. After all, even The Hunger Games can’t compete with a smooth-talking artificial pancreas.