Four times a year we make a pilgrimage to the City for Diabetes Clinic. We spend several hours there, while Daughter is weighed, has blood drawn, displays blood sugar records, and sees the dietician, diabetes educator, and endocrinologist. This time our visit was a little bit different. The medical assistant who recorded all her medications and weighed her and did vital signs noticed it immediately. “You look really good.”
I offered an explanation, “She’s in love.”
Daughter blushed and said, “Mom!”
Assistant smiled knowingly and assured Daughter that mothers are supposed to embarrass daughters.
Daughter was cute. She was bubbly, and probably happier than they’ve ever seen her. Her mood was further lightened by the news that she had lost 7 pounds in less than 3 months. Weight loss is harder when on insulin; and for a while all the extra food she was getting at the workshop because they were so concerned about the possibility of a low blood sugar made it almost impossible. I’ve adjusted the insulin and pointed out that they were unintentionally hurting Daughter with their treatment of her, so things have gotten better.
We were out of there much faster than usual. I strongly suspect that the doctor had heard the buzz about Daughter being so happy, because she came in first (usually she’s last) and didn’t have Daughter’s chart with her. Daughter usually is sullen and defensive at the clinic. They were delighted to see her bubbling with joy and so willing to talk to them.
We’re approaching the 8th anniversary of her diagnosis, so they’ve seen her many times. She was once hospitalized from the clinic when she went in insisting that she wanted her leg amputated. The doctor hospitalized her to switch her to a different insulin, and then got her friend to come in for a psychiatric consult. He moved her to the psych unit and changed her medications around. He was the one who first suggested she had schizoaffective disorder.
I’ve no doubt that part of Daughter’s happiness is related to her boyfriend. (They have another date tonight, and are both excited.) I think more of it has to do with the fact that her new psychiatrist has found the right medications for her, and she is now making good choices for herself. In the past boyfriends have triggered nightmares connected with her past abuse. I asked her yesterday how she was sleeping. “Great!” was her response. “I just go to sleep thinking about what D and I are going to do, and I have happy dreams.”
I’m sleeping much better, too.