Time is precious. Have you ever stopped to think about time in general? How slow it can seem from moment to moment, but when you look at the big picture you realize that time has a way of sneaking up on you and quickly rendering your sense of tomorrow gone? I have, and have been thinking about it a lot lately. I always seem to put things off until ‘tomorrow’ and realize that ‘tomorrow’ has already come and went. Where did it go? Before I realize we are already months down the timeline and I am still in the mode of searching for tomorrow.
It seems like my tomorrows come all too quickly ever since our oldest was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I am not sure if time really has sped up or if we just appreciate it more. Either way, I can tell you that a minute is as precious to me as a day use to be. Sometimes I have to define my day by minutes. It is the nature of this disease, ever changing minute by minute. I have learned to become a more flexible, on the spot type person…something that has shocked even my ever-so-much-of-a-planner self. One minute we are right in range, skipping along; the next we are experiencing a low that won’t correct (and I get the glucagon kit out in eye sight…just in case of an emergency). Minutes like that seem to slow, as I anticipate the next few seconds wondering what the outcome will be.
We time our meals; time our dosing, time our activities…everything we do are based off time. I do not think I have ever been so aware of time and what it means. Every evening, as the one before, I have dinner ready and waiting so that we can enjoy our only meal we get together as a family as soon as daddy walks in the door. Timing has everything to do with it. We have to eat by a certain time to make sure her insulin on board is zero before bed. If one detail is off, our time together we sacrifice all in the name of diabetes.
My nights seem to be the slowest, and as much as I would like to say I enjoy it…part of me cringes as the sky darkens and the stars come out to spy. Night is when my fear really sets in and I find my alert on high. The house is quiet, kids in bed, and I continue to anticipate diabetes… what my next step can be to combat it. What scares me the most is how quiet diabetes can be at night; unknowingly it can sneak up and render its victims powerless. A fear I will live with for the rest of my life. I am always fearful that my efforts will not be enough.
The longest moments come when morning arrives and I have to make the never-ending walk to my daughters’ room…pausing every morning just before her door saying a prayer that my daughter awakens, and all will be well once more. I will not ever be able to explain those exact feelings; no words I offer would give it justice. But they are there every day, just the same. When she wakes, I find myself once more thankful for time. I breathe a sigh of relief that we made it through another night; and then time speeds up once again.
Time is a funny thing. We can all judge it by different methods. But time is as precious to anyone as it is to me. Perhaps the way we see time is what makes it real, never knowing what the next day brings. If you find yourself rushing time, remember we never know how much is left. Time altogether, is a simple gift, no matter the events we anticipate.
Moments come that we rejoice with praise,
Another obstacle we moved out of the way;
Then another at pause, paralyzed with fear,
The future unknown, my daughter so dear.