Experiencing Gratefulness

           I will never forget the first time I brought Lily to her endocrinologist here in Tampa.  Sitting in the waiting room, a woman and her daughter of 9 or 10 years old entered and sat down. The woman meekly smiled at me and, looking at Lily, who was 2 years old at the time, said, “Please tell me she isn’t diabetic.” I returned her smile and informed her that, yes, indeed she is. The woman looked visibly upset. Her daughter said, “I was just diagnosed 6 months ago.” We began to chat a bit. I told her that Lily had been diagnosed at 19 months old. She informed me that she was having a hard time with carb counting. She didn’t totally understand it. Before I had time to reply, the nurse called her and her daughter to a room. Our appointment proceeded as all endocrinologist appointments do. Lily’s weight and height were taken, her A1C was tested, and the doctor discussed areas that needed improvement. As we walked to check out, the woman and her daughter that were sitting with us in the waiting room were also exiting. However, the mother was visibly upset. Tears streamed down her face as she exclaimed, “I just want to get out of here.”  I wanted to tell her that it would get easier, that I too had been there, on the verge of tears, every day. I wanted to stop her and hug her to let her know that it would be all right. Instead I stood motionless and speechless. I regret my inaction to this day.

On our second visit to Lily’s endocrinologist, I encountered another mother and her daughter. A little girl around 6 or 7 who was bound to a wheelchair, unable to move, verbalize, or eat independently. The mother and I struck up a conversation after another patient expressed his dissatisfaction with the wait time. The mother informed me that she was at the hospital two to three times a week having her daughter’s blood drawn due to a series of complications, including thyroid issues and diabetes. She was disgusted with the impatience of the other patient, exclaiming, “You do what you have to for your child, even if that means waiting for some time.” I wholeheartedly agreed with her before the nurse called Lily and me.

Both experiences taught me a valuable lesson in gratefulness. Not only could my daughter be a lot worse off, like the little wheelchair bound girl, but I could also lack the emotional and/or intellectual capacity to care for Lily. Unlike the mother I met upon our first visit to the endocrinologist, I have never had a hard time conceiving the math required to take care of a diabetic child. Carb counting can be tricky and is often a guessing game, but today’s nutritional information makes it significantly easier.  I am grateful that, despite her disease, my daughter can lead a normal life. I am even grateful for the growth I have experienced due to this experience. I have found a strength I didn’t know I possessed and have dealt with situations that, in the past, I would have shied from or been unable to handle emotionally. I am grateful for my daughter and her disease.