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Kingston, Massachusetts, United States

Monday, April 18, 2011

April 18,2011

The other night Christine and I were out to dinner with Paul.  Paul is like a brother to me.  We have known each other since the sandbox at the Old Sailors Home (our kindergarten) in Duxbury – literally.  Over the years we have shared many a meal after, in retrospect, were life’s key events for both of us – it could have been a ham sandwich lunch that Mom would have made us (they were huge), or a great Italian meal his mom made (very good cook), or at one of our favorite restaurants through the years…Ming, Mama’s just to name a couple.
So, I suppose, it was only fitting that we were out to dinner at Mama Mia’s…mmmm, Mama had the perfect blend of spices in her sauce that night.  It wasn’t planned that we would be going out on this night…we had been trying to get together for the last few weeks and we had made tentative plans last week after I got back from the hospital because I wanted to tell him about everything that had gone on last week with the possible transplant that eventually fell through.

As we sat and looked at the menu, I couldn’t help but turn my attention to the dessert section.  For most people, that would be no big deal.  But for me, it was something because having been a Diabetic for the last 27 plus years, I have sort of trained myself not to even think about going to that part of the menu…but there it was staring me in the face – CHEESECAKE, TIRAMISU, HOMEMADE CANNOLI, mmmmmmmmm.

For that brief second, I was thinking of what life would have included had I had the pancreas transplant last week (or more accurately, if the organs were viable enough to transplant).  I know it is probably silly of me to think in those sort of terms, but when you have it drilled into your head that, generally, when you go out to eat, most restaurants do not cater to the Diabetic population you usually don’t look that far into the menu…why would you?  Why would you want to torture yourself?

I know if Christine and Paul had noticed that I was looking at that part of the menu, one of them would have probably slapped me in the back of the head – and rightly so.

No, I don’t want to torture myself.  The reason for getting a pancreas is not just so that I can indulge in chocolate cake, it is to have a better quality of life…a life that would hopefully no longer include testing my blood sugar eight times per day, adjusting my insulin dosages (basal and bolus rates since I am on an insulin pump), worrying about keeping my HbA1c in check (my last one was 7.2%…the American Diabetes Association and Dr. Murphy all want it below 7%, and with a new, functioning pancreas it would be somewhere around 4% - 5%...numbers of which I probably have not seen since I was ten years old).

A better quality of life…that would be incredible.

If you, or someone you know is interested in organ donation, please contact: www.organdonor.gov; www.unos.org; www.donatelife.net; www.organtransplants.org; or  www.thewaitinglist.org;

1 comment:

  1. While I was pumping I didn't avoid desserts, but the guessing game and corrections (sometimes over corrections) was a nightmare. Now it's wonderful. I don't indulge that often, but you have a firm grasp of what things will be like once you get the pancreas. It's a huge weight off your shoulders. My a1c ranges between 4.6 and 5.1 and I'm enjoying every minute of it.

    You will too. I can't wait for it to happen.