A little announcement…

Hi Friends! Listen, daddy knows he has been neglecting you lately. He’s been really busy at work drunk tired.  Oh hey, speaking of daddy, look what we made!!!

I am so happy to introduce you to LT (Little Thompson)! He or she is scheduled to arrive September 5^th (the day before Labor Day, conveniently), and we couldn’t be more excited!

Things around the house have already started changing – the office has mostly been emptied out in preparation for nursery-fication, maternity clothes are making their way into the drawers, and I have the pleasure of being the sole cat poop scooper in the house for the next 6 months.

So far, everything has gone really well. Meredith (my wife, for those of you stalking at home) hasn’t had any huge morning sickness issues, the baby’s heart is beating and it is growing as it should be, and I’ve had an awesome time enjoying the hormonal imbalances in our day-to-day life. For example, the time back in early January that my wife broke down crying over the sad plight of Christmas trees. Can you believe they spend their entire life growing, and then are cut down, displayed for a few weeks, then tossed to the curb?!? It’s really quite a travesty.

So that explains why I’ve been a little preoccupied lately. At least now that we’ve “gone public”, I can share father-to-be stories with you and do super-dorky things such as debate the merits of 3 and 4-wheeled strollers. Stay tuned for more adventures!

P.S. I apologize for the excessive exclamation points in this post.  (Wait, no I don’t, screw it, it’s awesome.) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Frank, you forgot your birthday, didn’t you?

I completely forgot my diabetes anniversary. January 24th. Two weeks ago. To be fair, I’ve been very busy lately with work and other things (more on that later), but it’s kind of surprising that it slipped right by. This was a big one too…18 years…my diabetes can buy cigarettes now! (Not that it should, of course.)

I discovered this not by reviewing my calendar (note to self. calendar – noun: a place to record dates of important occasions that you might want to remember), but by yesterday’s occurrence of the Super Bowl. You see, it was on the weekend of the Super Bowl 18 years ago that Type 1 diabetes forced its way into my life. Everything started off Friday morning at my pediatrician’s office. My mom had brought me in after several days of those typical symptoms: frequent urination, unquenchable thirst, constant tiredness. A quick blood test at the doctor was all it took to determine that the old pancreas was on its last legs (Or beta cells. Whatever.). Honestly, I don’t really remember what happened after that. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of doctors, dieticians, new medicines, long-term complication threats…all things that were completely mind-blowing to a 12 year old boy.

I’m not sure of the protocol nowadays, but the standard procedure back then for a newly diagnosed juvenile diabetic was to be admitted for a few days in the hospital. I suppose this way the doctors could try to get things under control and familiarize you with the injection and testing routine, before throwing you into the deep end of the pool, so to speak. Again, I don’t remember a lot of details about that weekend, but I do remember Sunday evening pretty well. My parents had both gone home for some rest, as visiting hours were over and they had been with me in the hospital most of the weekend. There wasn’t a whole lot to do in the hospital after hours, so I enjoyed my carefully portioned meal and browsed the channel lineup using the combination TV remote/nurse call button/bed adjusting controller. Even though I wasn’t a huge football fan, I ended up watching the Super Bowl, because well, it’s the Super Bowl. It’s just what you do. I remember that the Redskins and the Bills played, but my mind was still swirling with so many questions and concerns that I doubt I really paid much attention to the game. That is the first time in my life I remember feeling so alone…all of the food exchange and regimented injection schedule talk had subsided, and it was just me and my new companion in that room. No doctors, no family, just me.

I’ll be the first to admit things have vastly improved in the past 18 years. I’ve become more comfortable with the cards I’ve been dealt, and the technological and medicinal advances have made things a thousand times easier. Still, every year at this time, amidst all the commercials and halftime shows (oh, and football), I think of that hospital room and the half-size can of Diet Shasta, and I look at how my life has been changed by that Super Bowl weekend 18 years ago.

Oh, and Diet Shasta? The WORST diet drink I have ever tasted. I’m still wondering if that was some sort of test.