2016 Biggies: Fifty and College-Bound

I'm 50 now. Actually, closer to 51 as of this writing. My last post was about turning 49 -- simultaneously seems like 20 years ago, and 20 minutes ago.

Fifty isn't terrible, but it's definitely different. Yes, many people are living longer, remaining physically and intellectually active for decades beyond their 50th jubilee. We're a good-looking bunch...for our age. And examples of folks pursuing new careers and accomplishing amazing things only because of the seasoning that comes with years lived truly inspires me. But, it feels like a bittersweet graduation of sorts. Congratulations! You made it through life's undergraduate school! Graduate programs are highly individualized and length of study is unknown. Good luck! Commencement date for advanced life degrees varies. And, it's curtains.

In addition to being 50, I'm now the mother of a college student. My oldest son, Parke, graduated from high school and is studying something...somewhere. He's as prepared and ready as a young person can be in this fast-paced, competitive, complicated time. He left excited and happy!

My college transition experience was the antithesis of Parke's.

August 1984 -- Austin, Texas
I watched the rental car back away. My parents in the front seat, Dad driving, looking over his shoulder to avoid hitting something -- and probably avoid looking at me -- Mom sitting beside him, and my 15-year-old brother peering between them from the backseat. My family said goodbye to me, returned their rental car, and boarded a plane for Phoenix, Arizona. They moved for my father's job the same weekend I transitioned to life as a college student.

I stood in an alley adjacent to the women's co-op that was my new home as my family left, and cried. It was what I thought I wanted. I was three months beyond my 18th birthday. The boy I loved, and had planned to attend college with, had bizarrely been denied admittance to the large state school. He instead, was going to an even better private university in Dallas -- three hours away. I didn't have a car or much spending money, and neither did he. I was completely alone. My family, now states away, and a steady boyfriend, essentially gone.

Dad, me, and Mom -- Wakonda Women's Co-op, University of Texas, August 1984

Me -- Co-op Courtyard, University of Texas, August 1984College wasn't awesome for me. Confused, mentorless, heartsick, and homesick, I flopped around for a few years unsure of what to do or who I was. I only lasted in Texas for a year before transferring to a smaller Arizona school. In hindsight, the giant state school was a terrible fit for a young, naive, immature, directionless girl. There's no one to blame and there's much more to my story; my experiences have made me who I am.

But, I want something different...better...for my kids. My husband feels the same and comes from a similar mentorless, freewheeling past. Some guidance, attention, and support within the education system would have been nice. However, as the saying goes...if things had been too much different, my husband and I wouldn't have met, fallen in love, and created our family. None of us can imagine not knowing our children.

August 2016 -- Malibu, California
So...my son. We attended a comprehensive new student/parent orientation program for a few days at his school before saying goodbye. Then we cried like babies. Parke's attending a school of his choosing (funded by a sizeable scholarship -- we're not fans of paying big money for undergraduate education), and we've done our best to ensure he's had, and has, the things we felt were lacking in our stories. Classic projection. But, projected with so much love, sincerity, and desire for our son to know he is supported. No matter what.

 Me, Parke, and Chris -- Pepperdine University, August 2016

Back to my 50th
June 5, 2016 was a beautiful day. My son had graduated three days prior -- an equally beautiful day -- and my family was happy and healthy. A 40-mile bike ride with my husband and father made me feel grateful for my health. A barbecue dinner in the backyard with my parents, husband, and sons left me feeling loved and celebrated. The simplest things are truly the grandest, and most memorable. For me.

Chris, me, and Dad -- Alpine, Utah, June 2016

I know my son's college commencement date -- May 2020. My advanced life degree commencement date? TBD. But, I intend to graduate with honors.

The Taco Bell Guy, The Mountain Goat, and A Birthday

Duke is adjusting as well as possible to living with diabetes. He's not complained once, although occasionally I see sadness and heaviness on his face. I can give him that. People have expressed their sympathy and encouraged Duke and our family. We're thankful for every kind word and thought. Little things like reassuring smiles, and eyes that convey just the right amount of sympathy have not gone unnoticed.

Last week I hung out near the boys' school so I could help Duke with his diabetes management; I intend to continue this routine for a while. He's not quite ready to fly solo. After helping Duke with his lunch, I drove to Taco Bell and ate a Bean Burrito almost every day. With a cup of water, my meal totaled $1.28. The cost alone gave me tremendous satisfaction, plus I love Taco Bell Bean Burritos.

After seeing me in the drive-through on the third day, the young Taco Bell guy offered to give me a larger cup of water. "Would you like more water today?" he asked. I told him that would be wonderful, that the burrito always leaves me feeling thirsty. He gave me a regular fountain drink cup--not the small, flimsy plastic cup typically provided for water freeloaders.

I revisited and soaked in that simple act of kindness and thoughtfulness. It was a bizarre moment to find such an effective and comforting antidote for the week's chaos and stress. But I took it.

Then there was the mountain goat.

I haven't exercised in a few weeks, so I forced myself to grab some fresh air and a hike Saturday morning. At one point on the trail I looked up, and no more than 15 feet above me stood a large mountain goat. Perched on...nothing. I couldn't imagine how she navigated the sheer cliffs, but there she calmly stood, appearing almost fake as she looked at me and I at her. She was placid and remained standing on nothing for longer than I cared to watch. I continued my hike, but like the Taco Bell guy, the mountain goat gave me a gift.

That goat seemed to simply "be". She epitomized it.

The Taco Bell guy = be kind. The mountain goat = be. Two spaces I aim to occupy with joy and peace, illustrated beautifully.

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And to cap off this week, September 9th is Redmond's 7th birthday! I have permission from the on-screen talent to share the following video clip. Parke and Duke meet their brother, Redmond, for the first time on September 9, 2005.

Duke

Many of you know that our oldest son, Parke (14), has type 1 diabetes. He was diagnosed when he was five-years-old. Our middle son, Duke, entered a clinical trial six years ago after a blood test revealed the presence of autoantibodies that were predictive of the development of type 1.

Duke has willingly participated in semi-annual monitoring, collected $50 from the TrialNet research fund, and surprised a doctor or two by remaining diabetes-free, while other kids sadly had to leave the study upon diagnosis. A few high blood sugars over the years alarmed us. This is it. Diabetes is here. Duke's numbers would resolve and a happy holding pattern resumed.

Call me naive, but I believed Duke was a pancreatic anomaly. They call it practicing medicine for a reason, I snickered to myself. He's been in the study longer than any other child; predictive autoantibodies are not a disease.

On Monday, August 27th, Duke was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.

It goes without saying that we're sad, and it also goes without saying that worse things could happen. Duke has watched a brother live with type 1 diabetes for almost ten years. Observing a medical routine, even with a backstage pass, is different than having the disease yourself. Duke's drinking through a fire hose as he learns how to carb count, what the difference is between Lantus and Novolog, how the timing of each drug works, and...how to give himself injections.

A nurse we hadn't worked with prior was educating Duke on Monday. Because Chris and I are experienced parents of a diabetic child, we were able to avoid a hospital stay and manage insulin dose tweaking at home. But Duke needed to begin learning about his self-care immediately. Although he didn't feel great, he felt well enough to plow through a lot of information that day, knowing he'd have to return later in the week.

The last lesson of our very long day was how to inject. The nurse gave Duke a handbook, Diabetes Basics for Kids, Teens, Parents, Families--Things you need to know and do in the first few days after a diagnosis. She turned to page 20, a section titled How to use an insulin pen.

That boy in the book is Duke's brother, Parke. Four years ago Parke modeled for some educational materials. I'd forgotten. So had Duke. We all had.

We got through the lesson. Even the nurse was moved and cried.

I gave Duke his shots for the first few days--seven a day for those who are curious. I don't share that to be dramatic. Some people are simply curious.

August 30th, Duke and I returned to the Primary Children's Diabetes Clinic where he successfully gave himself his first shot. He's got over half a dozen under his belt as of this writing. Literally.

August 30th is also Duke's birthday. He turned turned 13-years-old.

We had a small family celebration for Duke. He requested a Baskin-Robbins Oreo Cookie Ice Cream Cake and enjoyed a huge piece. He then had an insulin reaction and was able to drink some of the Mexican Coca-Cola he asked for and received as a birthday gift...long story.

Duke is hanging tough. He brushes against sadness; his father and I brush against worry. But for the most part, tenacity, gratitude for life's good and healthy parts, and the desire to move forward in a strong and positive way...are the attributes we're embracing.

And? If someone would have told me 20 years ago that I'd be the mother of TWO teenage boys someday...I would have laughed. I was supposed to have girls.