The Boy on the Field Trip

My daughter's 8th grade wasn't the only group visiting the family resort/camp on the day of their field trip.  After telling me that she hadn't talked to her school nurse all day, my daughter shared this contrasting story about a boy from another school:

There was another kid there with diabetes.  I felt so bad for him. I saw him out of the corner of my eye when I sat down for lunch.  He was a table over from us.  I could see him checking his blood sugar.  His nurse was hovering over him with her giant bag of stuff.  It took him a long time to check.  Then they got out a Calorie King book.  You know- not the app but one of those old books like we have on top of the refrigerator? 




Please rest assured we no longer use this alarmingly outdated 2003
COLOR edition to look up restaurant foods or packaged foods.
It's for fruit, grains, baking ingredients and other natural and recipe basics.

I could hear their conversation.  It was painful. They were looking up hamburger buns and macaroni and cheese.  It took them forever.  They came up with 65 first but the nurse decided that was too high (I think she was right) so they rounded down to 55 but weren't sure about that either. I thought about going over there and saying, 'a hamburger bun is usually 21 and half a cup of macaroni is 20-ish.  Enjoy your lunch.'  But I didn't.

I'm not even sure he'd started eating by the time we left.  I felt really bad for him.

We talked about what might have slowed this boy down.  The most likely scenario was that he was newly diagnosed and that this adventure was all new territory for him, diabetes-wise.  Or maybe he didn't eat out much and/or burgers and mac and cheese weren't on his usual menu.  Maybe his was a nervous nurse who needed to be sure they were taking care of his diabetes 'by the book.' 

Whatever the scenario, I understand my daughter's decision not to jump into the conversation. They probably would not have taken advice from another kid, and so her appearance would likely have just further delayed the poor boy's lunch.  She did wish she'd run into him later at one of the activities.

I do wish I'd seen him somewhere else. I would've told him that it'll get easier but I never saw him again.  I hope he didn't spend the rest of the day in the dining hall trying to figure out his lunch carbs.

The (Im)possible Field Trip

Something caught my eye as I skimmed through the school communications three years ago, at the end of my daughter's 5th grade year.  The 8th grade was preparing for its annual end-of-year celebration field trip.  They would be going to a family resort over an hour away.  They'd leave early in the morning and return around six at night.  There would be swimming, boating, a ropes course, tennis, volleyball, hiking and countless other fun outdoor activities.  Lunch and snacks would be served.  The only chaperones would be school staff.  And I thought, 'No way. There is no way she'll be able to participate in that.  The diabetes stuff is way too complicated.'

Last Friday I dropped her off in time to board a bus for the very same trip, without a second thought.  I made sure she'd packed well, filling a string bag with her meter, juice boxes, glucose tabs, smarties, and her dexcom.  She had a deep desire to keep her blood sugar in range so that she could play tennis, swim, and try the ropes course rather than spend any time with the nurse.  But the nurse was there, just in case, both to help if needed and to be a source of back-up supplies. Lunch was easy to count: hot dog and hamburger buns, pretzels, watermelon. The 8th grade teachers all know my kid, and they were stationed around the property to supervise the activities. I knew that they would help her if she needed it.

Especially considering what a big deal the idea of this trip felt like when she was a 5th grader, by last week it felt like no big deal at all.  It turns out she's come a long way in the past 3 years.  She can count carbs with the best of them, keep an eye on how she feels, carry her own supplies, troubleshoot problems and trust her own judgement. 

The only conversation she had with the nurse was at the door of the bus for the return trip home:

Nurse:  Hi!  Everything good?

Kid:  Yup!