No end in sight

I've been feeling weary lately. I spent a couple days vegging on the couch while the kids played here in the living room. It was like I had taken a sleeping pill; I was just so tired I couldn't wake up. I know that my son has a much harder road ahead than I do, but I've been feeling a bit sorry for myself. Every time I have to check his blood sugar or give him a shot, I want to stick myself, too. It isn't fair that he has to go through this alone. The least I could do is to feel the pain, too.

He sometimes fusses about it all, and I cannot blame him. I know he doesn't know how it kills me when he cries about it. But it also is frustrating; it HAS to be done.

Today he offered to get the shot in his abdomen. He actually said he prefers it there now. That's good. We have one more rotation area.

I started taking Reliv, again. I need to get back to it regularly, and I need to see my doctor. I missed my 6 month follow-up when Little Boy was in the hospital. I need to get back to taking my Wellbutrin. Between the Reliv and Wellbutrin, I know I'll feel better. And I need to get the den cleared out enough to use the bike and treadmill. And then I'll feel even better. And I plan to start back on a "diet" as soon as the Reese's PB Cup ice cream is gone. (I refuse to let it go to waste!)

I just think about testing blood and insulin shots for years to come, and I get very sad. I've been told that Little Boy is blessed to have parents who care, who comprehend how to treat him properly, who love him so much. I'm sorry; that is a very hollow consolation to a mother who wouldn't hurt her son in that way for all the world. I breathe a prayer for a cure every time I have to call him in.