My friend’s son’s diagnosis of course is still at the top of my mind. And I’m struck by something her message to me yesterday said: I know it will be like trying to carry water in my hands.

Indeed.

This seems a particularly apt way of describing the first feelings, like nothing stays with you for long. Like you start off on a walk, with your hands full of the stuff, then you take three steps and they are empty. So you go back and start again.

In our house we use the pedaling a bike slowly uphill metaphor. I think of how the front wheel twists and turns in this situation, how you just about stay on. This is how we feel. Most of the time.

And in another entry, the running for the bus one seemed best: you chase after, then when you finally get on it, you realise you should be on the one way over there, on that road.

***

These are all quite depressing ones, really. There must be some moments of relief. I’m thinking of my friend H here and her son. What to tell them?

What are the moments of your or your friend’s/child’s care like? What images occur to you in the middle of the night, or in the day on your own, or when you think of the people you love? Have the images and metaphors changed over time, or like us, do you have different ones for different times?

I’m just curious. Because I know that thinking through metaphors somehow helps me cope. It helps me express and articulate these complicated sets of feelings as nothing else can. I feel like there I’ve said it. For the moment, anyway!

***

On the home front, after a few days of highs and raised temp basals (more insulin dripping in), we realise that we are back where we started after the last unexplained round of lows. Sigh. Spluttering pancreas, growth spurt, infusion set site? Who knows. Two mornings now of finally waking in target. 

What would be the metaphor for this?! Two steps forward, one step back? No, that’s a cliche, and different.

How about following an overgrown path until you reach a sort of clearing. You take a breath, but then realise that the path continues out the other side, and that you must follow it. It’s a bit of a slog, lots of cutting back and hacking through. But you do it. When you arrive a the next clearing, after a few minutes it dawns on you. Yes, it looks familiar. You were here before, only now you’re approaching from another angle.

***

All being well I will update in the next couple of days about the school’s talk with M’s year group, the Bayer Contour USB. And maybe daffodils.

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