45 Grams Of Terror (Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Maple Bar)

They look so innocent, laying there

Up until 625 days ago, our house had a mini routine prior to bedtime on Saturday.  It was a serious discussion with serious consequences.  We made a plan and we made a contingency.  It went something like this:

Me: What would you like in the morning with breakfast?

Child 1: "Chocolate with sprinkles!"

"If they don't have chocolate with sprinkles, what is your second choice?"

"Maple Bar!"

And the procedure would repeat for each child.  Once or twice, both choices were less than sure-things, so I would ask for a third alternative.  But usually choice A and choice B would cover it.

Then came June 15, 2010.  Or, as it is known in our house - "D-Day".  The day we started a crash course in Type 1 Diabetes that hasn't ended, and likely won't unless and until there is a cure.

With our particular patient, rituals and habits are very important.  And getting to choose a doughnut for Sunday morning was part of his planning.  It was okay to not be getting his chocolate with sprinkles in the morning, but the discussion needed to be held prior to Sandman Time on Saturday.

That crash course brought a lot of fears - and assumptions - and the thought of never having another doughnut broke his heart more than constant Bg checks and insulin injections.  I cannot erase the face he made from my memory, but imagine dropping your ice cream cone onto your new iPhone while watching Titanic, then double that.

You see, bakery items in general, are hard to pin down for carb counts.  How big was the cake?  What kind of icing?  How much icing?  How thick were the slices of bread?  Packaged loaves of bread or hot dog buns are helpful, but they can still vary.  But doughnuts?!?  They can vary so wildly from store-to-store that the best you can do is estimate, than retest Bg's in an hour.  Our most common guess is 45, but one with extra frosting, or none at all, can sway that - but it's still a guess.

Doctors and hospitals don't like guesses.

Over time, we have learned to live live with Diabetes.  He isn't "a diabetic", he is a person, a child, a young man, who has Diabetes.  It's an important distinction, that we have tried to bear in mind.

So we have gotten back into our Saturday Night routine.  As they are getting ready for bed, he will ask "Is tomorrow a doughnut Sunday?"  And usually the answer is no.  But about once a month it gets to be yes, and I get to see a smile that would light Monstropolis.

We still try to limit doughnut Sundays - keeping it special, and choosing birthday weekends or when we have visitors.

And there is nothing to fear, until the sequel: Second Slice: Attack of the Pizza!