Blue Mountain

Invited to go 'tubing' with a group of girlfriends today at Blue Mountain in PA. It involved sitting in just that, a giant rubber tube, and riding it down the snowy hills of the ski slope. Again and again and again.

Grace asked me about going a few days ago. A friend's father was going to drive them there, a father I had yet to meet. I told her I would need to chat with the dad before I let her go. And sure enough, he called me. I spoke with him about 5-10 minutes and it was one of those phone calls where I know it's gonna be OK.

'Whatever she needs.' 'I'll leave the diabetes kit in the first aid office at the end of the slope and tell the EMTs there all about it.' 'If she needs something she can just tell me.' 'I can wear/hold some food for her if she wants.'

Yeah, that. The kind of conversation that leaves you with a smile. And I believe, just for a while, that diabetes is no big deal. Cause maybe it isn't.

She can go do big things, without me talking to whoever the adult is about glucagon and how many carbs she needs, and how to count carbs and how her pump works and what to do if Dex beeps. It will be OK. Diabetes can take a back seat.

I know how I am supposed to respond. I am supposed to be a nervous wreck. I am supposed to not let her go with a single soul who doesn't know what to do in every kind of emergency related to diabetes. I am supposed to educate everyone she comes in contact with about how to care for her, what to do, how to do it and when.

She just wants to go tubing.
And I had a 5 minute conversation that summed up where we are with diabetes.
And it will be OK.

I packed her snow pants with glucose tabs, granola bars and quick sugar, should she be on the mountain and need it. Her diabetes kit, full of everything she would need for care and a pump change, will be with the EMTs. The dad has my cell phone number should anything happen.

Grace is going tubing.
Have fun, sweetie.