That Fateful Day.....

It was June of 2002. Brandon had just turned 6 and summer was in full swing. He was attending VBS at 2 churches, had a big birthday party at the city pool, lots of playdates, and typical summer stuff. It all started on a Thursday night. After dinner, Brandon didn't feel well, and threw up what he had eaten for dinner. Once that was done, he felt better and went on his merry way. Next day, VBS in the morning, then another in the evening, felt great, ate dinner, threw up. I had asked his leader at VBS how the week went. He said he didn't think Brandon was having any fun because he always asked to go use the bathroom. Thinking back to the week before, I remembered Brandon had wet the bed for the first time in his life, but he had drank much, much more than usual that night right before bed, and he IS a very deep sleeper, so no big surprise there. Fast forward to Friday night....

Brandon was lying on the couch for quite a while after dinner and looking quite pail. No fever, no cough, just strange looking. While observing Brandon's appearance, I recalled the last 2 weeks in my head.......

Brandon was ALWAYS thirsty, and could NEVER seem to get enough to drink, and had been using the bathroom at least 10 or 15 times a day. He also seemed sad and looked like he was losing weight, even though he had a sudden large appetite. We googled his symptoms........

The results: "diabetes" or "depression"

Well, it couldn't be diabetes. He's only 6 and it doesn't really run in the family, but it could definitely be depression. Daddy had been working extra long hours, and had also just gone on a fishing trip to Alaska with Papa that Brandon couldn't go on. We had also just gotten the news the day before that Brandon's great-grandmother had passed away. That's the second grandmother Brandon had known and lost. So my son must be depressed, I thought. If he still seems sick in the morning (Saturday,) I will take him to the E.R. Meanwhile, Dad will leave for Nana's funeral, 3 states away.....

The next morning, Brandon seemed to be doing better. Dad had left for the airport. Shortly after that, Brandon started throwing up nonstop and his eyes started to roll back into his head. We headed straight to the E.R. I told the Dr. that he'd been having these weird symptoms, and I know 'something' is going on, but if he could just rule out diabetes for me, just to make sure that's not what it is.....

The Dr. took his blood sugar with an insta-check machine, and said "His blood sugar must be above 600 because this meter only goes that high, I'll need to send a sample to the lab." At this point, I have no idea what a blood sugar of 600 means, so I just say "Okay, sure." Then we waited.......

The Dr. came back and said his actual blood sugar was 968 mg/dl. For those of you familiar with diabetes, you know what that number means without me having to explain. I didn't have a clue, so I asked the Dr. "Is that BAD?" He said, "Ma'am, if you hadn't brought your son in today, it's highly likely he wouldn't have made it through the weekend alive. He would've slipped into a coma. It's a miracle he's still here." Brandon had also been dehydrated for the last 2 weeks, hence all the thirst and drinking, and had lost 8 pounds from his already thin body. My eyes welled up with tears and my knees turned to jello. He said "Your son has diabetes, and will need to take insulin shots for the rest of his life." I asked the Dr. "How do we cure it" and he said these awful words, "There is no cure." I called my in-laws where my husband would be arriving soon, told them the news, and that we needed him to come home right away. I sat and cried for my son. The thought of him dying, the fact I didn't know, the news of the diagnosis..... my heart was aching.

My husband, Brandon, & I spent the next 3 days in the hospital learning our new way of life: Living with diabetes. After the first night, after Brandon's body had been flushed with saline due to the severe DKA, (diabetic ketoacidosis) he looked like a brand new kid. The color in his face was back, his eyes weren't sunken in, and he was feeling great. I cried again feeling guilty about not seeing this major change in him over the 2 weeks prior.

The nurse came in and showed Brandon the shot that she would give him, and that his parents would give him twice a day from now on. To everyone's amazement, Brandon said to the nurse "I want to give myself the shot." He did it! He didn't hesitate, he didn't close his eyes, he just looked at his arm, jabbed it in, and said "That was easy." He's been doing it himself ever since.

That is the day when our son's life changed forever. He is a trooper and takes everyday in stride. He takes "living with diabetes" much better than we do. He is our hero and we are blessed to have him as our son. That's Brandon's story.