Guest Post: Flashbacks

by Leighann on June 29, 2010

While I’m in sunny Florida for the Roche Social Media Summit meeting some rock star PWD’s and D-Moms and Dads, Hallie is stepping in as your D-Mom du jour.

When I read this post originally published on Hallie’s blog The Princess and the Pumo, of course I cried. When I reread it again, I cried even more. She tells of the nurse who took Sweetpea’s blood the day of her diagnosis.

I often wonder how it must feel to deliver bad news. Most pediatricians and pediatric nurses fill their days with well baby visits and ear infections. On the day of Q’s diagnosis, our pediatrician cussed. I felt it was so human and real of her and I could tell it was news that she hated delivering.

Shortly after, she called me to tell me of my son’s heart condition. She said that no family should have to deal with two issues. I could hear the genuineness in her voice. The right balance of “this is what we have to do” and “you’ll get through this too.”

Read Hallie and Sweetpea’s story as written here on D-Mom Blog and visit Hallie at The Princess and the Pump.


By Hallie
Originally posted on March 18, 2010 on The Princess and the Pump.

Today I took Sweetpea BACK to the doctor to get her ears checked out. She’s been complaining off and on for a week or more of ear pain. Yesterday she refused to drink because it hurt. She said she couldn’t hear herself talk. She woke up crying in the night…. She’s also super congested and has a low grade fever. Not good symptoms. Add to that “puking” up drainage this morning (pukes with D is my worst nightmare). Not good at all.

Cut to the chase…. her ear looks “suspicious” but is not a full blown infection. But, considering she’s had this cold, cough, etc for about 10 days now and it’s gotten progressively worse… we got some antibiotics and will hopefully be congestion free and feeling good for our Spring Break!

Here’s where the flashback comes in…

We were taken back to the exam room today by a very sweet nurse (all the nurses and docs there are great) who took extra time to find out which ear hurt and take her temp in the other one. As I was running through her list of symptoms, I ended with, “She had moderate ketones this morning – but they’re gone now”.

She kind of smiled and said, “Were you diagnosed here?”


“I was the one who did the blood test. You were here with your husband, right? You were in the room next door.”

“Yes, we were.”

“I cried too that day. I just kept looking at that result and thinking something had to be wrong. That it couldn’t be right.”

I was floored.

I have never thought about how that day affected the other people involved. I’ve really only thought about what it was like for us – our family. I guess I never thought it would impact the doctors and nurses that were there, too.

I remember that day and yet it’s a blur. I remember her testing Sweetpea. They tested her toes. Then coming back in to do it again because it wasn’t “working right”…. I knew then. Oh, who’s kidding who – I knew before we went.

I remember trying desperately to hold it together. I remember breaking down in tears when we were told what I knew in my heart to be true, was true indeed. I vaguely remember her being in and out of the room while I sat there and cried.

“We’ve come a long way since then” I said.

“It’s been year, hasn’t it. It was exactly a year ago.”

“Yes. April 27th.”

“I remember.”

“It’s been quite a year but we’re doing ok. Sweetpea, show her what you have now!”

Sweetpea immediately shows off her Tinkerbell pouch and pink pump. She loves that pump!

“Wow! You have an insulin pump! That’s great! When did you get it?”

“October. About 5 months in. It’s great. We LOVE it!”

Sweetpea chimes in, “Yes. And you press these buttons here and put in the numbers and it gives me my insulin!”

“She’s so knowledgeable about it. She’s so mature, I’d expect that.”

“Yeah, she understands a lot about diabetes now and everything we have to do.”

“That’s great. Well, the doctor will be in soon. I hope you have a nice vacation!”

“Thank you. We will!”

And we smile goodbye at each other as this look passes between us. This look of knowing. Of understanding. Of having been through something together. I guess you form a bond with people who were there on the worst day of your life.

It obviously made an impact on her. That day. My baby. Our grief.

It was a special moment. One that I’m so glad we were able to share!

{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

1 Meri June 29, 2010 at 11:18 pm

I love you Hallie! This story gets me every time!


2 Jules July 1, 2010 at 7:14 am

Oh and now I am blubbing into my tea. SO beautifully told. No dramatic language but that’s how we all seem to do this. Not much energy left for drama! I love those rare moments when someone else just really sees you and gets it. Well done on a whole year and having come so far. Much love.


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