On Diabetes and What Remains

When Oliver was two and a half, he was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. He was unusually grumpy, tired, hungry, and thirsty. He started going to the bathroom all the time. At first it was just a little more often than usual, but then it started being every thirty minutes, and then every twenty minutes, and the last day before his diagnosis it felt like he was going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes. When we called to make an appointment, the doctor’s office wanted to see us right away. They took a urine sample as we arrived and a blood finger prick minutes later. Within fifteen minutes of arriving they had already told us it was type 1 diabetes and sent us to the children's hospital closest to our house. He stayed in the PICU one night and then in the hospital through the weekend as we waited to receive our training in caring for him. I had been aware his symptoms might be pointing to diabetes, but I thought it unlikely and also had no idea the diagnosis could happen so quickly.

A few days before diagnosis. He was constantly hungry.

At the time, it was such a big deal. Diabetes requires constant management and vigilance. There are no days off. We counted carbs and measured all of his food, tested his blood sugar six or more times a day, and gave him insulin in the form of shots. We visited a specialist every three months, tried to keep up with his prescriptions, referrals, and ever changing body, and watched for signs of low or high blood sugars. We carried juice boxes, glucose tabs, test strips, and a glucagon emergency kit everywhere we went. Eventually he got an insulin pump and a continuous glucose monitor, which made life easier and helped us control his diabetes better, but were also more things to carry, worry about, monitor, and maintain.

Oliver took it all like a champ. He said his shots made him feel better and that was that. My husband and I were sad, disappointed, and scared. We did our best to stand on our faith that had been tested by deployments and postpartum challenges. I did a Bible study on Ephesians 3:20-21 by Priscilla Shirer shortly after his diagnosis and was reminded that our God is able: “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” I realized through the questions in the study that although I often asked God for help managing Oliver’s diabetes, occasionally prayed for medical advancements, and on hard days imagined that God would miraculously heal Oliver of his diabetes, God was able to do immeasurably more than that. More than I could ask or imagine.

At the hospital

Oliver lived with diabetes for over eight years before he passed away unexpectedly from an unrelated heart condition. We sat in the hospital room with him and tried to say good-bye. Right before we left, we removed his insulin pump and his continuous glucose monitor. He was now free from a life of chronic illness. We remembered he was free of sin and death as well. We were left with a lot of questions regarding his diabetes. Why would God have allowed him to have diabetes if he was going to die because of a problem with his heart? Why did he die suddenly because of his heart when in my head I had already fearfully pictured him dying because of a dangerously low or high blood sugar a thousand or more times?

Home again!

Then suddenly the questions were gone. The challenges of Oliver’s diabetes were part of what made him a helpful, hardworking, kind kid, and we didn’t need to know any more than that. It turns out while Oliver’s diabetes felt big and life-defining, it must not have been because I hardly think about it anymore (I did find a test strip in my duffel bag when I was packing the other day and do still have a visceral, full-body fight-or-flight response when I hear an alarm that sounds the same as those on his insulin pump or continuous glucose monitor). When I remember him or tell others about him, I don't think about diabetes. I think about his dimples, how red and sweaty his face would get when he was hot, and how he loved to help his grandparents on their farms. I think about the LEGO creations he made that still sit in my den. I think about his laugh, how proud he was of his sister, trips to the zoo, camping, and surviving two winters in Alaska with a baby.

This feels like a taste of heaven, when all our tears will be wiped away. This gives me hope in my present challenges, struggles, and concerns. I am reminded they will fade away, redemption is coming. Just as Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 4:17-18: "For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." It's an interesting balance. Our challenges matter to us and to God. We are not called to just brush them under the rug or say it isn't hard. The sacrifices my husband and I took to take diligent care of Oliver's diabetes and teach him to do the same mattered. The pain Oliver experienced because of his diabetes mattered. And yet I am starting to see the truth that it is the character, growth, and joy that remain.

What challenges and worries are you facing today that feel life-defining? What hard things is God calling you to do? Let's fix our eyes on the unseen behind these circumstances, trusting God that in the end these struggles are just stepping stones to who God created us to be.