After being told Amy had type 1 diabetes we were given some time to be together before one of the wonderful DSNs came back to enquire whether Amy was hungry as it was now dinner time. She was hungry, as she had been for the last couple of weeks.
Her dinner order was taken and it surprised me that she was immediately offered what we call ‘weekday food’ or more to the point ‘crappy food’, consisting of things like Smilies, which most 10 year olds like Amy adore. Of course I had the common misinformed opinion that type 1’s couldn’t eat certain foods and I guessed ‘crappy food’ fitted that bill.
We were transferred to the room which was to become Amy and Jane’s room for the night and a second DSN came in, saying that dinner would be ready soon and Amy needed insulin. It was all handled very, very well, with calmness, control and bucket loads of support from the DSNs. I really liked how everyone focused on talking to Amy, not the parents; it made complete sense but I’d rarely witnessed this before.
Then the horrible question came from the DSN: “Amy, who would you like to do your injection?”. I shuffled forward in my chair expecting to do it – remembering Amy’s fear of needles and Jane’s fear of blood – before I was stunned by Amy’s response.
“If I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life I might as well start now.”
Waves of amazement preceded waves of pride which preceded waves of tears.
It was quite a slow process but she did it. I was so proud.