Sunday, May 16, 2010

Dream A Little Dream...

I thought long and hard about this blog today. I want to wish for a cure, I really do. I want to put all my eggs in that basket. But what if I don't have any eggs to put there? You see, all my eggs that wished for a cure for something, wished for a cure for autism for my oldest. The eggs are gone. There is no cure for autism and while I valiantly do hope there is a cure for future generations of children with autism, so they do not suffer as my child has suffered, my daughter still has autism. To cure her would be to dismantle her. So I can wish for a cure for future generations, but it won't do my daughter any good. Unless someone is coming in to rewire her brain and do a complete brain and sensory system and nervous system transplant, well, she will still have autism.

So, do you see how my view on a cure for diabetes might be a wee bit tainted here? And I am sorry if you are reading this and you have all your eggs in the cure basket. I am happy that is your journey and your eggs are where they need to be. I don't want any of you to take your eggs out of your cure baskets, please. I applaud all of you that they are there, in that place. I was there once.

I look around and I see the 'oldest living person with diabetes' hit 80-something. I see young adult women who were diagnosed at the same age as my Grace, who are in their 30's now. They wished for a cure when they were 6 too. And the band plays on, and on and on. It just keeps rolling on. People are living their long lives with diabetes and wishing all the while for a cure. And they told them back in the 1960's and 1970's that a cure is 'just around the corner.' I do believe the journey to that corner has gotten shorter, researchers are closer to actually developing an artificial pancreas, but that is still not a cure. A technological solution, not a biological cure. And that's some of the best researchers on the planet who tell us, well, you know, that artificial pancreas is still about 7-10 years away. Grace will be 18 in 10 years and will have had Type 1 for 12 years by then. And it still might not be a reality to us.

Please don't take this as a cynical mom, who doesn't wish for a cure for our kids. Deep down, way deep down, beyond what I show anyone, I do. But I keep that hidden. It hurts too damn much to wish for it. Hell, it hurts even to write about it.

The eggs.
The basket.

I will walk for JDRF. My family will give money to research how it all starts in the body and how we might, in the future, prevent it.  I will educate people about Type 1. I will make sure my daughter has excellent health care. I will commune with people who get it.

I will tell Grace... That yes, one day, sure honey, one day, they will cure this. When you grow up Grace, I'll bet they will have a cure for Type 1. I'll bet when you are Mommy's age that you might even say you 'had' Type 1, but now you don't. Let's go to that Walk and raise money so they can keep on researching. You might have some device that works like a pancreas, where you don't have to work so hard at keeping your blood sugars stable. It will all be fine honey, it will be. They are working hard at this, so other kiddos don't have to have Type 1.

I will say all that to a 7 year old girl. Because I love her beyond measure.

Maybe there is one egg left in my basket after all.


Leighann of D-Mom Blog said...

I don't put all of our eggs in one basket either. Of course a cure would be wonderful (as long as the cure doesn't present even more challenges), but I am also very supportive of research and development of products that make living with diabetes better/easier.

You're not are being a realist, like I am.

Jules said...

My dear friend, I have cried reading this as it says so many of the things I've been wanting to say in my post today. I NEVER let myself imagine a cure. It opens too much of a crack in my heart and I want to spend my energy on the here and now. I have yet to write my post today and am going to wait until Frank is asleep. It's the toughest one of the week! Hugs from the UK.

Joanne said...

Pretty much how I feel too, and said as much in my post. Although it was kinda fun to imagine and pretend, but I wouldn't want to spend every day doing that.

Meri said...

I never think of a cure. I don't expect a cure. But deep down, I always hope for one.

Jen said...

Penny, your post made me weep. I know exactly you feel about it being too painful to think about...

Wendy said...

This week has been so incredibly emotional.

I let myself "go there" with this one...I laughed and partied inside -- taking a moment to imagine that it was really happening! OH THE JOY!!!!

But. It's almost midnight.

Cinderlla can't stay at the ball.

We all have to wake up tomorrow in the same reality.

And I'm kind of sad.

LaLa said...

Your post is amazing. It made me cry!
I agree 100% --- it's nice to dream today but now back to reality.

Thanks for a great week!

Lorraine of "This is Caleb..." said...

Yes, I can totally understand why you have your eggs where they are. It's important to be realistic. I hope for a cure, but I'm not counting any eggs before they are hatched either. :)

Amanda said...

That made me cry. You say it all so well!

Karen said...

Your post made me cry too. After over 30 years with Type 1, I didn't think a post about a cure could make me cry - but yours did. Thank you for sharing in such a real and beautiful way.