This photograph makes me smile, because it shows the playful personality of my boys so well. (I have two other sons, Kyle and Liam, and three daughters not pictured.) Riley, age eleven, is finally getting into the groove of his diabetic routine. It has been two months since his diagnosis. For an eleven-year-old, he’s amazingly responsible and careful. Yet there’s something so unfair about a kid having to spend his life giving himself shots. I’m very proud of how he’s handling all this. At first, he was reluctant to give himself the injections, and we didn’t push the issue. His father and I administered the insulin, as long as he was able to tell us how much he needed and why. The carbohydrate counting and dosage mathematics have come easy for him, and we knew that in time he would take over the rest of it.
“I know you want to be like me, but…”
The fact that his older brother Garrett, age fifteen, has the same disease, makes the whole experience much more tolerable for Riley. He might not admit it, but Riley looks up to his older brother. He wants Garrett’s approval and seeks out his friendship. If something interesting happens on the news or if he finds something “cool” on the internet, he runs to find his big brother. “Wait! I’ve gotta tell Garrett!” And Garrett recognizes he’s in the trendsetting big brother role. In the early days after Riley’s diagnosis, Garrett said, “I know you want to be like me, but this is going a bit too far.”
The Monitor
Since Garrett has already had diabetes for eight years, and because he’s a teenager, he has become somewhat lazy in his blood sugar monitoring. Riley, on the other hand, has just gone through all the training and instruction. And being quite a perfectionist, he follows the “rules” to the letter. Garrett’s more laid-back approach disturbs him. “How come you didn’t test?” “Garrett, I thought you were supposed to change the lancet needle every time.”
I remember hearing Garrett take a long, deep breath. “Oh, man. I can already see how this is going to be.”
A Lifetime Bond
There was also a quiet sadness that came over Garrett during those hospital days. In a way that nobody else in the family could, he understood what Riley was going through. Seeing him in the very same hospital eight years later brought back a flood of memories. “It was like seeing myself in the past,” Garrett said. And it was no longer his disease. It was theirs. “I thought diabetes was just some weird thing that only I had,” he said. “I never thought anybody else in the family would get it. I thought I was the diabetic in the family. So when my brother got it, too, it was really strange.”
The boys have told me that sharing diabetes with a sibling can have some benefits. “I like the fact that if I go to visit my Dad, and I forget some of my diabetic supplies, I’m not in trouble. I can just borrow his stuff,” Garrett says.
“Yeah, but he used up a whole bottle and a half of my insulin,” says Riley, and then with an adult tone, “I really wish he’d be more responsible.”
I suppose there will always be a special connection between these two brothers, who now share so much: Genetics, a mysterious disease, diabetic supplies, laughter, irritation, brotherhood, and a whole lot of understanding.
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Kristyn Crow is the author of this blog. Visit her website by clicking here. Some links on this blog may have been generated by outside sources are not necessarily endorsed by Kristyn Crow.