Conceding the battle, but not the war

Mark started his new job about month ago.  He liked it quite a lot at first.  Adam and I both commented on how happy he seemed, using his muscles and being active.  He has always been a using his muscles and being active kind of kid.

The honeymoon started to wear off.  His ripped his sensor off, twice.  He had a hard time controlling his glucose levels.  Moving heavy objects all day every day is hard work + it has been stupid hot.

Still, I was his cheerleader.  "You can do it!" I said.  "You're making great money!" I said.  "I'm proud of you!" I said.

Privately, to Adam, I was less of a cheerleader.  His blood sugar was all over the map.  I'd talked to Enoch about it and he recommended fruit snacks for when his glucose went low but they'd spike his levels up and then his pump would correct and give him more insulin and he would plummet again.  Up and down and it all made him feel awful.  Feeling awful + moving heavy stuff + 100 degree heat is not a winning combination to make you happy about your job.

"It's good for him," Adam said.  "He needs to learn to manage it."

And I agreed to a point but only to the point that I didn't want Mark to die. (Who me? Exaggerate?)

Enoch advised him to turn off the part of his pump that is smart enough to correct when he goes high.  He tried and it turned itself back on.  There's a learning curve and we don't know it.  Also, I swear that little pump loves Mark and I'm grateful for that.

I knew Mark was miserable.  He confided in me, "I'm scared.  Every day when my blood sugar gets so out of control, it's scary."

That is not what you want to hear from your 18 year old.  18 year olds are supposed to be bullet proof and foolhardy, not scared.

We problem solved and Adam and I went to the store and got him glucose tablets which are only 4 carbs each so that he could tighten up control on correcting when it plummeted.

I told him, "I know this is hard, but I don't want diabetes to win.  I don't want it to limit what you can do in life."

I pray for my kids every day.  I had the idea that we should pray as a family, specifically, about this situation.  Adam agreed.

He prayed Monday night.  He asked to be led to know how to best take care of Mark.

Tuesday, Mark ripped another sensor off.  It was on his stomach and he needed to use straps to move a 400+ pound gun safe.  The straps were right where his sensor was attached.

We've spent hundreds of dollars on damaged medical equipment with this job, at this point.  It's not a great perk for parents.

I had the distinct thought that Mark should quit.  Enough was enough.  I didn't think Adam would agree.  He did.  I felt really good about the decision that I'd felt conflicted about for weeks.

Our prayers were answered.

Mark is finishing out his schedule but he already told his boss he's quitting.  I feel peace about giving this one to diabetes.  It's not that the job was too strenuous for Mark.  He could handle that.  It is just not a job that is conducive to being a diabetic.  It just isn't.  

I also feel grateful and I recognize our privilege.  Mark is greatly blessed by the medical equipment he has.  It makes his life better.  I am grateful we can provide it.  I'm also beyond grateful that Mark has a chance to go to college.  He can earn his living doing something that doesn't rip tubes and needles out of his body.

And that's worth something.