Dear Type One Diabetes…

Dear Type One Diabetes,

You came into our life quickly and unexpectedly a few years ago when Isabella, our then 2 year old daughter, was rushed to the hospital. As you know, she spent 4 days in the hospital getting poked and prodded and pumped full of insulin. My wife and I sat there with tears in our eyes, our hearts aching with sadness and our minds filled worry of what our future would look like once we left that hospital room.

Before that trip to the hospital, we knew absolutely nothing about you. We also didn’t know that you had probably been around for a while. The signs we noticed in the weeks leading up to that life-changing hospital visit — extreme thirst, constant urination, weight loss — were surely completely normal for a growing and healthy 2 year old girl. But, we learned that those symptoms were the result of your hard work to destroy our daughter’s pancreas.

We were scared and, truthfully, we despised you. We wanted to completely erase our memories of you. How could you do this to our daughter? Why us? Why now?

We realized those questions would unfortunately never be answered. We immediately made a very conscious decision to accept our new reality. We made that decision while sitting right there in that dimly lit hospital room, which was filled with beeping machines, nurses and doctors. As hard as it was, we accepted that you would now be around every minute of every day for the rest of our daughter’s life. And we also accepted that there was nothing we could do to change that. Letting go was not easy but completely necessary. That decision meant that we had to accept that our new reality, which now included you as the 6th member of our already very busy household.

And that was the beginning of our new life with you. Our lives will never be the same. We now count every carb that Isabella eats. We prick her finger to check her blood sugar level up to 10 times per day. We’ve learned to give her precise amounts of insulin in an attempt to keep her blood glucose in the proper range….which is a constant battle that has fortunately ended in only one emergency visit to the hospital.

As much as I try not to, I spend a good portion of my time thinking about you. You are one of the very first things I think of when I wake up in the morning and usually the very last thing I think of when I go to sleep at night. I’m often awake multiple times in the middle of the night due to high or low glucose levels. I actually can’t remember the last night I slept through the entire night.

My wife and I have learned to operate on very little sleep, although she has certainly mastered this skill much better than I have. The truth is I’m extremely tired most days, thanks to you. As a result, my patience is low and my stress level is high most days.

I hate that since you came into our lives, my 4 year old daughter has to be connected to all of these medical devices and throws completely out of character temper tantrums for no apparent reason other than the fact you decided to screw with her emotions.

It makes me both angry and sad that Isa has had to deal with so much at such a young age. And as she gets older, I am scared that other kids will make fun of her for being “different” and she’ll come home crying. I know this day will come and I hope and pray that I can say the right things to make her smile and make everything better, even if only for that one moment.

It may seem that you have won. It may appear that you have beaten me down into despair.  You may be reading this with a sinister grin on your face as you envision me spending my days crying and living in fear of what may happen next.

I can assure you that couldn’t be further from the truth. My family Changing the worldlearned how to successfully deal with challenges long before
you came along. And we always overcome….always. You have not won and trust me when I say that I won’t let you win.

While I wish we never met you, our lives are perfect and I wouldn’t change a thing. My family laughs and smiles every single day, even with you lurking in the dark shadows. We have learned to roll with the punches and adapt to whatever is thrown our way. We are extremely resilient.

I am so proud of how Isa deals with all of these obstacles and does so with a smile on her beautiful little face. I am in awe of her strength and courage. Isabella is one of the strongest and most courageous people I know. I’m so proud that she inspires others with her story (even though she may not even know it!).

When Isabella was diagnosed, we decided to accept you and let go of what we can’t change. But, we also decided that we would fight for Isabella and all those living with type one diabetes! So, for the past two and a half years, we have done exactly that. We do everything we can raise awareness (including sharing Isabella’s story with anyone that will listen!) and raise funds to support diabetes research. And we won’t stop.

While we still wish we never heard of you, we also want to thank you. You must have come into our life for a reason. In some strange way, you inspired us to make a difference and play a small role in changing the world.


-Greg

Watch out Washington…here she comes!

More than two years ago, our lives changed forever when Isabella was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes just weeks shy of her second birthday. We were literally crushed with the weight of her diagnosis. We sat in that hospital room, just as far too many before us have, with tears in our eyes, sadness in our hearts, confusion and worry in our minds…and then something amazing happened.

We wiped away our tears and started thinking about how to turn this terrible, life-changing disease and experience into something positive. We decided right then and there, while sitting on that uncomfortable couch in that hospital room, that we would fight for Isabella and many others by raising awareness and raising money to support research towards a cure.

Our hope is that by sharing Isabella’s story we can inspire others and ultimately help change the world! We are proud of what we have accomplished over the past two years, but we still have a lot of work to do…

That’s why we are so excited to announce that Isabella was selected to be a Delegate for JDRF 2015 Children’s Congress! She was one of about 150 delegates selected out of more than 1,500 applicants! Isabella can’t wait to share her story in Washington!

Our little girl is just getting started on her path to change the world!

-Greg

Childrens Congress

Love and Life

pancreas heartWhile the kids eat dinner I sort through the pile of papers they bring home from preschool each day. Sheet after sheet of drawings, letters, numbers…indicators of their expanding knowledge and growing imaginations.

An intricately drawn image of Batman taking a nap while Daniel Tiger builds a snowman. And that large green square? That’s their recycle bin, duh.

A rainbow…minus brown because, well, “that’s an icky color.”

And a shiny red pancreas…no question to whom it belongs, the letters I-S-A staring up at me from the paper.

“Hey, Isa, did you draw this pancreas?”

“What pancreas?”

“This red one…with your name on it.”

“That’s not a pancreas…that’s a heart, mom.” (Insert frowny 4-year-old face)

I stared at the drawing that just a minute before I was sure was an exact replica of the I Heart Guts pancreas pillow we’d given Isabella a year ago.

I stared at the drawing that I assumed was my daughter’s way of illustrating a dream she has. Just as Mia dreams of sunny days after the rain, and Max of saving the earth one less landfill and bad guy at a time, Isa dreams of a pancreas that would just do its darn job already.

I stared at the drawing and realized that my interpretation of what Isabella had drawn wasn’t necessarily her dream…but mine. My interpretation was what I assume she spends her time thinking about: life without this disease. Life without needles and finger pricks. Life without carb counting and unpredictable highs and dangerous lows. These are the things I dream about…

But that isn’t what SHE dreams about. This heart…red and emblazoned with I-S-A…this is the organ that matters most to my daughter right now. A symbol of love and, most importantly, LIFE.

While I might secretly wish that Isabella understood how different her life would be without T1D, it’s days like this that I’m reminded that she is not defined by this disease. I’m reminded that she is allowed to have dreams filled with Sophia the First and cupcakes, without a test strip in sight. Her dreams don’t have to mirror mine. Life for her can, and SHOULD, be about more than her disease. Much more.

And while a teeny piece of me was excited that she’d drawn a pretty great pancreas, another part of me was happy to hear that diabetes isn’t the first thing that pops into her mind each day.  In fact, it’s probably not even the fifteenth thing.

So I say to my little one: You just keep dreaming of giant red hearts because that right there? That is the organ that truly matters most.

Cheers to Changing the World,
Kristina

To the Ends of the Earth…

Isa and Aunt Shelly

Isabella and her Aunt Shelly during the 2014 JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes

**Thank you to Isabella’s Aunt Shelly for being our special guest blogger this week! We hope you enjoy her post below.

Over the weekend we kept the trio on Saturday night so Greg and Kristina could enjoy a night out to themselves. I swear that the cousins can never get enough of each other and would really prefer to just move in together.

Within about 2 hours of us getting back to our house and having dinner Isa’s blood sugar was high….220 to be exact. She ate dinner and it was just hitting her. I texted Greg to ask him a question about her insulin on board (IOB) and to verify that I should not adjust her insulin at this time and to give her insulin time to work. He verified that was the right thing to do. See?  I’m getting pretty good at handling this stuff by now.

The rest of the night was uneventful. The kids ran around for a little bit until we settled them down for a movie and put them to bed. They were all pretty tired and went right to sleep. We’re pretty good at that as well….7 kids in the house and all go right to sleep…no problem.

Within 30 minutes of bedtime Isa’s continuous glucose monitor (CGM) started beeping telling me she was low. I checked her and she was definitely low….56 to be exact. That’s pretty low if you’re wondering. I gave her some juice and her number came up to 80 within about an hour.

Unfortunately she hovered around that 80 all night which meant a constant beeping CGM and more juice throughout the night. Trying to get a 4-year-old to drink juice in the middle of the night when she really doesn’t want it isn’t an easy task for sure. By 4am I put my husband on that duty and he finally got her to drink the rest of what was left of what we were trying to give her.

What I remember distinctly from that night is that I sat in my bed and do what I do best: I prayed. I prayed for Greg and Kristina first. I prayed for their guidance and for their support through this as I know this cannot be easy day in and day out on a parent. Mostly, I know it cannot be easy watching their little girl knowing she’s not going to wake up better the next day. Then I prayed for Isa…like I do so often. I prayed for her strength. I prayed for there to be a cure one day. I prayed for the doctors taking care of her. I prayed that as she gets older she is able to take care of this on her own and doesn’t rebel. I prayed that she be ok in the morning…..this was my biggest prayer in that moment, and I’m sure one that Greg and Kristina worry every night when they go to bed.

The next day Greg told me how to temporarily turn off Isa’s basal insulin on her pump so she stops getting it…which is probably what needed to occur the night we had her so her numbers could come back up. That’s the thing with this disease: there is no simple answer. A lot of it is trial and error and seeing what works best for you or what works best in the moment. Type 1 Diabetes is manageable, but the scary part is that you just never know. One wrong move and the person dealing with this disease could be in a coma or not wake up.

I am always in awe of Greg and Kristina’s willingness to let us keep their little girl without a second thought. I never, not one time, have felt like they worry about Isa when she’s with us. I second guess myself sometimes about what I could have done differently and I would go to the ends of the Earth for my niece. I love her like I love my own children. Kristina and Greg are educating so many through their guidance, their love and their patience with this disease. They are giving Isa the tools to one day, when she’s older, be able to go out on her own and conquer the world. Hopefully when that happens they will not worry about her quite as much because she’s been trained so well. I am in awe, as always.

~Shelly

Shaping Friendships

Just before Thanksgiving the stars aligned and just like eHarmony for the T1D world (dHarmony?) we met a sassy blogger online named Libby. A twenty-something who also happens to be pancreatically-challenged, Libby asked us if she could interview us for her blog and we were pumped (pun totally intended).

I told Isabella that a new friend with T1D wanted to interview her…which set off a string of questions about who this mystery girl was, what kind of ice cream she likes and whether or not she’d seen Frozen. She was excited and I was, too.

After our interview with Libby (which was chocked full of so much awesome that I’ll let you read it yourself) we decided we wanted to send her a thank you card and one of our fab Inspired by Isabella t-shirts. Of course, being 4 years old and looking for any excuse to get marker on my nice, Amish-made table channel her inner Warhol, Isabella said SHE wanted to make the card. The “card” turned into half a dozen drawings and notes, dictated letter by letter by me, to our new friend Libby.

“Does ‘Libby’ begin with an ‘L’, mom?”

“Are there one or two ‘o’s in ‘love’?”

“How do you spell ‘best friend’?”

And that right there made my eyes start to leak.

Isabella brought me her stack of notes and drawings and as I thumbed through them I stopped at one. It was a drawing she had made of her and her new BFF, surrounded by flowers and a rainbow, their names scribbled to indicate who was who.

libby

It was hard not to notice the numerous shapes Isabella had drawn up and down the two figures, seemingly random.

“I love this drawing, Isa. Can you tell me what these shapes are on you two?”

“Those are our sites…for our pumps and cgms.”

And I could feel my heart sink.

But then I noticed something else. Smiles. Both the stick figure image of Isabella on the paper and the pigtailed toddler standing in front of me had smiles spread across their faces.

And I knew. I knew that Isabella had found someone else she could draw who also had shapes running up and down them like a highway of reminders of this disease. She was smiling because she had found someone to look up to and to show her that she shouldn’t be ashamed of these shapes. And while her shapes will never define her, they are a part of her story.

Thank you, Libby, for helping Isabella embrace her shapes…and for sharing her journey.

Cheers to Changing the World~
Kristina

Guilt

laughterTears. Lots of tears.

Arms flailing, screams echoing through the house. A chorus of doors slamming and feet stomping rattle the walls.

Dr. Jekyll, meet Mr. Hyde.

So often people tell us that Isabella seems so happy, always full of smiles. We share photos of her with her silly grin, stretching from ear to ear, proud of this and happy about that. To the outsider she seems like a toddler full of so much joy, conquering each daily challenge with a hop in her step and a shine in her eyes.

But not today.

Today she is losing…and so are we.

One of the many challenges of type 1 diabetes is that its affects can vary person by person. Some can feel their lows coming, getting tired and shaky. Others, like Isabella, show no sign that their blood sugar is falling to a dangerous level. In fact, Isabella is almost always giddy and laughing when she is low.

As difficult as it is to tell her lows, her highs are hard to miss. The happy, goofy 4-year-old disappears and an anger-filled stranger takes her place and, as has become routine, she is exiled to her room until she calms down…usually falling asleep, exhausted from screaming and crying.

And I feel guilty.

I feel guilty because I know her body is playing a mean game of “Perfection”…just waiting for the sand timer to run out while trying everything to get her blood sugar back in range before scattering all of the pieces to the ground. No matter how hard we try, it always seems like the sand is faster than the insulin running through her body and we lose…a lot.

But there she is, sent to her room to cry it out and sleep it off. Kept home from a classmate’s birthday party because of her diabetes-assisted tantrum. Punishment for a disease she didn’t choose and for effects she can’t control.

And I feel guilty.

We get home from the party and prepare for bath time. I’m still angry at Isabella for her earlier fit, and even more frustrated that she doesn’t understand why she couldn’t go with her brother and sister. As she steps into the tub a mix of emotions hit me as I catch a glimpse of the technology keeping her alive. An insulin pod attached to her arm and her continuous glucose monitor embedded in her lower back…my robotic daughter.

And I feel guilty. And I am mad. Mad at this disease and mad at what it does to my beautiful little girl. Mad that I can only control so much and mad that I feel guilty for trying to parent the best way that I can.

And tomorrow we’ll flip the sand timer again…

Cheers to Changing the World~
Kristina

Here we go again…

I have always loved Halloween. I love dressing up and I love the excitement leading up to it. It’s probably no secret to those that know me well that I start planning costumes months in advance…and we don’t disappoint!For most kids, though, Halloween is about much more than choosing costumes.

It’s about the candy. C-A-N-D-Y.

Most people would expect that, as parents of a kid with type 1 diabetes, Halloween would be the holiday we dread the most.

And they would be right…but not for the reasons you would assume.

THIS is why I dread Halloween:

Halloween Diabetes
And this:
halloween diabetes 2
A year ago before Halloween I wrote a post in response to someone else’s blog entitled 10 Halloween Candy Alternatives That Won’t Give Your Kids Diabeetus. I realized then that there will always be people who choose to perpetuate stereotypes about this disease, simply because they don’t KNOW what it is. I also realized that there are people who back up jokes like these with the claim of “I was actually referring to TYPE 2 diabetes!”…as if that makes it ok. How about making a joke about cancer and saying “Oh! I didn’t mean breast cancer, I meant prostate cancer, silly!” Nope. Not ok. Another person’s illness or disease is not a joke…no matter what it’s called.This year I’ve decided that instead of being mad about these things, I’m going to channel my inner spirit fingers and let them help recharge my motivation (“Gimme a C-U-R-E!”). I know that our efforts to raise awareness and educate people about type 1 diabetes are helping someone…or many someones. I just know it.

I also know (ok, I just looked it up) that the word “ignorance” comes from the Latin ignorantia meaning “want of knowledge”. So you know what? We’re going to help the folks who continue to perpetuate the stereotypes about “diabeetus” (which, by the way, was only funny when it was said by Wilford Brimley) and keep supplying them with LOTS of knowledge.

You want it? You got it.
bees

Happy Halloween!

Bring it On…and Let’s Change the World~
Kristina

 

Defining a ‘Cure’

Isabella and Brynlee, T1D BFFs

Isabella and Brynlee – T1D BFFs

 

According to Webster’s, there are three definitions of the word “cure”:

1) Something (such as a drug or medical treatment) that stops a disease and makes someone healthy again

2) Something that ends a problem or improves a bad situation

3) The act of making someone healthy again after an illness

The definition that isn’t provided by Webster’s is the one you tell your four-year-old who is battling said disease/bad situation/illness.

But today I tried to define it.

Isabella has been overwhelmed with all of the hoopla over the past two months as we held fundraisers, ordered t-shirts with her likeness, and held special events in her honor. And it was great. No…it was amazing. To the tune of almost $15k in funds raised amazing.

For a cure.

A cure she didn’t know could exist.

Until today.

While brushing her hair this morning Isabella asked me the question I had been subconsciously dreading for the past two years: “What’s does ‘cure’ mean, mom?”

Bravery x 2

Bravery x 2 – Isabella and Addison

Isabella can read a facial expression like no other toddler I’ve met. I was grateful that she’d asked for double side ponies this morning instead of her usual side-swept style. I was behind her and she couldn’t see my face. She couldn’t see the wrinkle appear between my eyebrows, as is common when I’m caught off guard with a question I don’t know how to answer.

But she could tell by the delay in my response.

“Is a ‘cure’ for me, mom?”

I put the brush down and I moved in front of her so she could see me…so she could know that what I was going to say was the truth.

“Yes, it’s for you. A ‘cure’ would mean you wouldn’t have diabetes anymore.”

After a second or two she looked at me with the face of someone who’s just come to an amazing realization about something.

“And Addison and Brynlee? And Maeve and Lucas? Oh, and Miss Knox? And…”

As I listened to Isabella continue to name off, one-by-one, all of these young people living with type 1 whom she’s met since she began this journey just over two years ago, I realized that Webster’s got it wrong with their second definition of ‘cure’:

2) Something that ends a problem or improves a bad situation

 

Yes, a cure would end our journey with type 1 diabetes. And, yes, that is what we hope and pray for every day.

Isabella and Miss Knox!

Isabella and Miss Knox!

Where Webster’s gets it wrong is this: our lives have been made BETTER because of type 1 diabetes. Yes, BETTER. All of those people Isabella rattled off? They have made our lives BETTER. All of the challenges we’ve had making sure Isabella is safe at home and school each day has made us BETTER parents.

Does this mean we don’t need a cure for this disease? Of course not. What it does mean is that I wouldn’t change the path we have been on because, as a result, we have had the chance to make a difference. To educate people about this disease and the signs and symptoms to look out for as the numbers of kids diagnosed grows each year. To spread awareness about differences and help people understand that kids with challenges are regular kids.

As I slid the last Hello Kitty rubber band into Isabella’s hair I turned to look her in the eyes.

“Yes, Isa…the ‘cure’ will be for all of you. And the ‘cure’ will be BECAUSE of all of you.”

And it will.

Cheers to Changing the World~

Kristina

 

The #TBT No One Wants To See

hospital2 Nearly two years.

Now, more than half her life.

Every day. Forever.

Sitting in the standard metal hospital chair, I looked over at Isabella.

Everything seemed the same…just the crib swapped out for a rolling bed.

Hadn’t we just been here?

Didn’t we just experienced the exact same blood-drawing, IV-inserting, stabilizing-levels process?

Hadn’t we just watched helplessly as tears streamed down her face…her little tourniquet-wrapped arm outstretched and reaching for us as blood trickled into multiple vials for testing?

Weren’t we just told that our daughter was very sick…and how lucky she was that we’d brought her to the ER in time?

So many times since Isabella’s diagnosis we’ve heard stories from friends and strangers about the many complications that can come along with type 1 diabetes. And so many times we’ve talked about how lucky we must be that Isa is almost two years post-diagnosis without complications. Didn’t we deserve some “Understudy Pancreas of the Year” award? We were like the Mr. Miyagi of diabetes management…mastering it left and right. I mean, if we did everything right it just makes sense that we’d have smooth sailing…what could possibly go wrong that we couldn’t predict?

Actually, everything.

That’s the thing about this disease: it’s unpredictable. No matter how many devices we use to manage/track/dose…there will always be that unknown.  hospital1

Isabella was admitted to the hospital yesterday with Diabetic Ketoacidosis (DKA) after blood tests in the ER revealed she had large amounts of ketones in her blood stream. If left untreated, the amount of toxins in the blood can result in a coma and can be fatal.  The cause of DKA varies and, as was the case with Isa, it can develop rapidly.

We are now home after 2 days in the hospital and Isabella is back to her old self.

But we aren’t.

Because now we know. We know T1D doesn’t play favorites. There are no “lucky ones”. This is a disease that leads the body to attack itself. ITSELF. It is unpredictable and it is dangerous.

And for Isabella, it’s her life.

For now.

“First learn stand, then learn fly”…wise man, that Mr. Miyagi.

Cheers to Changing the World,

Kristina

PS- THIS is why we are working so hard to raise funds and awareness for a cure.  If you would like to support us in our efforts, please visit: www2.jdrf.org/goto/inspiredbyisabella.  Thank you for joining us on our journey to a cure for type 1 diabetes!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three Words: Reflections from Friends for Life

fflI had just finished participating in DSMA (Diabetes Social Media Advocacy), the live Twitter chat that happens every Wednesday night at 9pm EST (which I’ve suddenly become addicted to). It was around 10:30pm and I finally sat down to write my blog post, reflecting on the Children with Diabetes “Friends for Life Conference” that we attended in early July. I typed my initial thought for the headline and an opening sentence…

That’s when I heard the crying and screams.

It was Isabella. She had been in bed and presumably asleep for an hour or two but was now awake and crying. I went upstairs to check on her…but she was already coming down the hallway on her way downstairs to see us. I asked what was wrong and she continued to cry; unfortunately, this scenario is not entirely unusual when you have nearly 4-year-old triplets who never want to go to sleep at night. Admittedly frustrated, I scooped her up and immediately knew something was wrong. Her little body felt like it was in a cold sweat. She continued to cry and wiggle around as she wrapped her arms tightly around me.

I suspected that her blood glucose was still very high (her levels had been high since we changed her insulin pod several hours earlier). I pulled out her meter and confirmed that she was in fact high (471!).  In and of itself this is not terribly concerning as her level can vary widely (after all, she’s a growing toddler!) and the solution is fairly straightforward – give her insulin to bring her level back down. The problem was that her level had been high for several hours and it was now clear that the insulin we had already given her didn’t seem to be having the desired effect of reducing her blood sugar level. Her pod likely wasn’t functioning or had come loose, which we hadn’t realized earlier.

We checked for ketones; if present in the bloodstream, ketones can lead to DKA, or ketoacidosis (resulting in a coma or worse). For the first time since her diagnosis, Isa had “medium to large” ketones, which is approaching very dangerous levels. I called the hospital emergency line to reach the on-call endocrinologist, and had prepared myself for what I thought would be our first diabetes-related visit to the ER since her diagnosis nearly two years ago. The doctor suspected that Isabella’s pump had not been delivering insulin for several hours and suggested we give her an insulin injection. Isa was scared…I guess she had already forgotten, or at least didn’t want to remember, the nearly fifteen-hundred insulin shots she received during her second year of her life. We replaced her pod and gave her an injection of insulin for the first time since she started on her OmniPod nearly 12 months earlier. Thankfully, within a couple of hours, her level came back down into range. With that, our diabetes crisis was averted.

I never did finish my “FFL reflections” blog post that night, so I wanted to finally share some thoughts. As I reflect on the conference, three words come to mind: inspired, hopeful and proud. Here are a few reasons why…

Inspired

  • We met and had the opportunity to hear from several athletes living with T1D that have accomplished amazing things: Jay Hewitt, Ryan Reed, Charlie Kimball, Sebastien Sasseville. These individuals truly inspire us and are great role models for our daughter; they remind us that anything is possible!
  • We met many great families, some of which we had already “met” in the DOC; I’m inspired by how they manage through this challenge day-after-day, month-after-month, year-after-year…while keeping a positive attitude, continuing to raise awareness and finding ways to overcome “diabetes burnout.”

    ffl mila

    Finally Meeting The Ferrer Family of “Jaime, Mi Dulce Guerrero”. Somos Amigos Para Toda La Vida!

Hopeful

  • We had the opportunity to hear about the Bionic Pancreas, a medical device currently being developed and tested by Dr. Ed Damiano and his team at Boston University. Dr. Damiano began developing this device as a commitment to his son, who was diagnosed with T1D at just 11 months old (he’s now 15). The technology is amazing and would enable Isabella and many others to live without having to worry or even think about diabetes every single day.
  • Isa started a trial of a Dexcom G4 CGM (continuous glucose monitor) during the conference. This was made possible by Jeff Hitchcock, Founder & President of Children With Diabetes, who asked if we were interested in participating in the trial. Jeff helped arrange everything with theDexcom team (who, by the way, are an amazing group of people!), and we were off. We’re hopeful her newDexcom CGM will help provide us with information to make more informed decisions about managing her diabetes…and will provide us with some sleep-FILLED nights!

    ffl jeff

    One of our Friends for Life – Jeff Hitchcock, Founder & President of Children With Diabetes

Proud

  • I was so proud to see Isabella seek out others with green bracelets (all those with T1D were wearing green bracelets) to introduce herself and say “I have diabetes, too!” She was so proud to show off her OmniPod and her new Dexcom…and that made me smile as I want her to be proud of who she is, embrace the challenges in her life and turn them into opportunities.
  • Isabella and her triplet siblings, Mia and Max, made so many new friends during the conference and I know they will truly make “Friends for Life” as a result of attendingFFL each year. That makes me one proud papa!

    ffl lenny

    The Trio with Lenny the Lion!

Overall, the conference was once again amazing. It is truly a great feeling to be with 800 other families that understand exactly what type one diabetes is all about and how it affects our family, both emotionally and physically (thank you to the family that gave me juice to treat Isa’s low by the pool!). The conference sessions are great and informative, but interacting with others affected by T1D and hearing about the amazing things they’ve accomplished living with diabetes is what makes this conference so special. Can’t wait for next year’s conference!

-Greg