OmaHeck: Tate's Take

Our columnist has been on hiatus and so we were thrilled to receive this entry for publications.

Before our esteemed philosopher's latest, some background:
Tate love to make bonfires with his Bompa, or "Bomps" as he's recently been dubbed. Recent weather (wind, low temps, inversions), and the political climate (a recent wild fire near Bomps' house) have prevented him from enjoying fire time.

In an effort to get his fix in, he swiped some matches and started a small leaf fire in the garage. Needless to say, we weren't thrilled and let him know so. The burnables he'd collected (he's got a box that he uses to to stash materials in hold until the next trip to Bompa's) were therefore subject to confiscation, much to his dismay.

A few days after the confiscation, the following appeared on our bed (no spelling or punctuation changes have been made):

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Anderson

Did you know it is agenst the law #600 no throwing away your son's burny box
stuff? Your under arrest.

Signed,The Police, Dan Snare, The garbageman and Mr. Obama

P.S. Your in really big trouble.

Dan Snarr is the Mayor of our city and a staple at school events. In Tate's mind, he's quite the celebrity. The other signatories should be familiar to you.

If harboring resentment is an olympic sport, Tate is training for the Nationals presently. We're pretty sure he'll get over it, but for now we're anxious for the next fire episode so he can get it out of his system.

OmaHeck: Tis the Season...

Here are a couple of Christmas websites that our family really enjoys.

The first is Caroling Chins. Type in your favorite Christmas Carol and let the Chins carol to you and yours. There repertoire is broad, but not exhaustive, so it your favorite isn't there, try another! And Enjoy!

Second is one of the funniest Christmas stories you'll ever hear. It comes in 3 parts, each about 6 minutes long. From this link to YouTube, you'll be directed to each part in succession. Be sure to listen to them all for the whole effect. Don't let the title put you off. It is totally a Christmas story, the set-up in about 3:30, so don't get discouraged, just sit back and laugh (and remember, Santa didn't "used to do" anything")!

OmaHeck: Learning from Your Kids

Last night, as we were winding down from the Halloween events, Tate told us that he never wanted 2010 to end.
He likes being 12, October is great, December is coming, it's his favortite time of the year.
Then he throws out that he likes numbers divisible by 3.

"Um, Tate," I say, "2010 is NOT divisible by 3." I'm so sure I'm right because in my trick-or-treated out head, 201 is not divisible by 3 and so neither is 2010. He starts to argue with me. But he's tired too, so he just goes to bed.

Cyndie was thinking, we probably shouldn't argue with Tate on this issue... it's proven to be frutiless--and embarrasing--in the past.

So today after church, Tate grabs the calculator and types in 2010, shows it to me, hits divide by and then 3... equals 670! He's right. OK, so maybe I'll be smarter next time. But probably not.

OmaHeck: Heroes, Cyborgs and Dad

Cyndie was watching the news tonight when I got home tonight. As we served up dinner, but just before turning off the TV, Minute To Win It! came on. The contestants were disabled veterans who had both been shot in the leg by a missile. Each had a prosthetic leg. Dane was admiring their stories, fascinated.

He looked for a while, then said, "They are cyborgs!"

"Really?" responded his parents.

"Well they are part human... and part machine."

"Oh" from the parents.

"Dad's actually a cyborg, too. He's got that metal machine in his knee."

Cyndie's thinking this could hold braggin' rights at the local elementary milk cooler, so she asks him, "Have you told people about this?"

Dane retorted incredulously, "No, that would blow his cover!"

Maybe it's time for my secret identity to become my only identity.

OmaHeck: Been a While

So you haven't heard from us recently, and that's not by design. Let's just say that antibiotics have become a family favorite recently.

Here are a couple of choice Dane-isms from recent weeks.

Cyndie stopped by the bank to deposit a check the other day. She put the check and deposit slip in the tube and Dane was mesmerized. "Oh!! Looks like some kind of DNA containment chamber--or a pod!"

A few days ago, while we were planning a pool trip, Dane got his idioms combined and let us know that "waiting for an hour to swim after you eat is Old Mothers' Folk!" When he realized that he'd combined Old Wives' Tale, Folk Tale, and Mothers' Tale, he roared with laughter. We all did.

I love having kids for the fun things they say...

OmaHeck: How Did You Find Me?

Tate is officially in Jr High. For all the frantic worrying (by his mom, not so much by me, and especially not by Tate), day 1 went off without a hitch... mostly.

Day 1 is for 7th graders only. Get 'em in the school and herd 'em from class to class without the 8th and 9th graders owning the halls. Makes sense. We did a dry run at back to school night on Wednesday. Did you know that Jr High has a distinctive smell? It is a smell that says,"I haven't showered recently, but I used deodorant 2 days ago and it since I haven't showered, it should still be on." But I digress.

Tate spent 5th grade brooding about moving and spent 6th grade being done with elementary school. This summer he told me that he was looking forward to "a whole new life at Jr High." Music. Music to my ears!

We met with the teachers and the special ed coordinators. Everything was lined up. Schedule, locker (which did get changed once we realized where his classes were relative to his original locker), paper filing system, plan for the alphasmart, etc. etc. After lunch, the plan was for him to hit the media center and read. Grrreat! He doesn't really like sports or playground, so that's a fantastic solution. Until we execute...

After lunch, Tate headed straight to the media center for some reading time. He camped out behind the book fair display and got down to business. Shortly after opening Eyewitness books on snakes, skeletons, and sharks, the Librarian came by and said sweetly, "Well hello! What are you doing here?" Technically the media center wasn't open at lunch. Trouble brewing? Nope, Tate took it in stride and responded,, "How did you find me?"

Librarian called Special Ed instructor and said, "I think you have a lost soul down here." He offered Tate lunch access to his room and bookshelves and Tate was cool with the swap. Disaster averted. Thank goodness for small miracles.

While getting ready for bed, Tate offered up that he was thankful for a great 1st day of school. We're on our way!

OmaHeck: Anybody Want a Peanut?

First off, if you recongized the title from its source in "The Princess Bride", +2 for you and a gold star to boot.

[pause for self congratulation... now on to the meat of the post]

If you buy salted-in-the-shell peanuts in bulk, you may want to stop, or at least reconsider your current venue.

In a fit of randomness, we learned the following recently:

Sitting at breakfast, Dane asked Cyndie, "Mom, are you supposed to eat the shells?"

"What shells, honey?"

"On the peanuts, are you supposed to eat them?"

"Well, no, but they do have lots of salt on them, don't they?"

"When there are peanuts out in a box at the store, I used to just grab some, suck the salt off, then put the peanuts back in the box."

Now, I can't prove this actually happened, nor can the alleged location be pegged. All we have is the mad ramblings of a diabetic 9-year-old.

But I did think you should know.

OmaHeck: The Devil and College

Here are a couple of great kid-isms that occured recently:

We have neighbors who are big PAC-10 fans (or is that PAC-12?)... mostly USC, but conference affiliated in any case. Dane was at their house playing and the kids went to the computer to get on Webkinz. As the screensaver went off, he saw Sparky, the ASU mascot on the desktop. His question to his hosts: "Why is Satan on your computer?"

...

Our family was in the car talking about all sorts of things (driving, too, not just sitting in the garage to enhance "tegetherness", but it's something we may consider). Somehow the subject of college came up. Dane was adamant that he isn't going to college. Just not interested in that much schooling. Too bad since he's a sharp kid and wants to be a paleontologist. Cracker-Jack box diploma anyone?

So Tate started asking more questions about college... why people go there, what it's like, and so forth. Cyndie and I explained that some jobs require people to get specific education. We also talked about different kinds of jobs and that today -- in their generation -- it is harder to get a job without a college education.

At this point Tate deadpans, "So Dane will never get a job" with just a hint of question.

OmaHeck: Tate's Take

Today's topic on Tate's Take: Trampolines...

1. We do a lot of tricks. Boing.
2. Dane tells me his dreams on the trampoline.
3. We play a lot of crazy things.
4. We play when each other isn't around.
5. We play on it after our homework.
6. We play on it after our big sized dinner.
7. We get hurt a lot on the trampoline.
8. We never fall off the trampoline.
9. We act like the nets are webs.
10. We are exersizeing on the trampoline.
11. We are monsters for each other.
12. We act like killers on the trampoline.
13. We are so big fans of the trampoline.
14. We act like fool like on AFV.
15. We play with water on hot days.

OmaHeck: The Incident (of Dane, Deductibles, and DKA)

In his extremely odd song "Pancreas", Weird Al favors us with the following:
My pancreas is always there for me
Secreting those enzymes
Secreting those hormones too
Metabolizing carbohydrates just for me

OK, so what if it doesn't? Metabolize carbohydrates, I mean. Well, then you are Dane and you have Type 1 Diabetes. This news may come as a shock to some of you... we've told some as it has come up, but haven't reached out en mass, and we know that others are learning here for the first time. Hope the Weird Al reference softens the blow for you.

It was just a few days after my last blog post (which of course was intended to kick off some more frequent blogging) that we had our "incident." Here's how it went down:

Dane had been a little sick for a while. A cold. Some sniffles. Nothing too crazy. Maybe a virus we thought after a few days, because there was a bit of vomiting. But really, this family has seen kid sickness before.

The weekend got a little more intense, he was pretty lethargic and a little more of the "fun stuff."
By the time I got home from work Monday night (rather late, because I had an event with some customers that evening) Dane was in bad shape. While the vomiting had subsided, he was breathing very heavily. This is normal for D when he has a fever, but he didn't have a fever, so we were getting really concerned. After another trip to the bathroom where Dane was just too tired to walk out, so he just lay down on the floor. Well, he lay down if you call falling over and saying, "I'm just too tired to stand up" laying down. OK, now we knew something was up.

All along we hadn't seen evidence of Swine Flu (H1N1) or any other pandemic or such... we were at a loss.

Cyndie just looked at me and said, "You have to take him to the ER." So I did.

They did a History a quick once over and started in on their stuff. I didn't know what was going on.

Every once in a while they asked me a question.

Eventually, about 2 am they said "Diabetic Ketoacidosis." And I was totally confused. Dane doesn't have diabetes, I told myself. And good thing, because if there are 2 things this kid hates, it is shots and food. At that point the Doctor in charge told me that Dane needed to be transported to Primary Children's hospital because that is where they treat juveniles. And transport would be by ambulence. At this point I am pretty sure we have reached our insurance deductible for Dane. Turns out that Diabetic Ketoacidosis (DKA) is pretty serious stuff. You can read more about it here.

I followed the ambulance up to PCH. At this point I am really confused. Partially because I am bleary-eyed, and partly because I am still relatively sure that Dane does not have diabetes (this is what psychologists call "denial".)

About 2 more hours in the ER at PCH, then maybe 8 or so in Pediatric Intensive Care (PICU). After which Dane was transferred to the "floor" or the regular hospital with a confirmed diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes where he stayed for the next 3 days. This kind of stay is totally normal with a new diagnosis of Diabetes.

This is already long, but I'll shorten the rest up a bit...

You spend 3 days at the hospital so the endocrinologist can monitor how you respond to insulin (and in Dane's case so we could get his blood sugar levels down from 500 to closer to 100 in a slow and controlled manner). Also, there is a substantial (read: overwhelming) amount of information you need and about every 90 minutes someone is coming in to teach you something: diet, exercise, pharmaceuticals, injections, insurance, support groups, clinics, supplies, etc. We didn't know quite how to respond to it all... compare this to when Tate was diagnosed with Autism and we were essentially told "Your son exhibits behaviors consistent with the Autistic spectrum. Good luck with that."

I'm sparing the emotional detail. Frankly, it's almost too exhausting to relive, even in pixels.

So where are we now?

• Dane is testing blood glucose himself (sparingly) and doing his own injections (always) after Cyndie or I calculate the dosage and draw the insulin.
• We generate much more garbage that we did before (mostly little plastic caps from the syringes, alcohol wipes, alcohol wipe packaging, blood glucose strips and packaged food (which lists the exact number of carbs included).
• We live a more regimented life (Dane needs to eat regularly, and he's still in the honeymoon phase, where his pancreas regains some-though inconsistent-functionality before finally giving up for good).
• We are extremely grateful to Heavenly Father who sustains us in all things, and for those locally who have helped us through to this point.
  Cyndie and I don't go out as much... still need to get him comfortable with dosing himself before we inflict him on a babysitter...

There's more, of course, but I'm getting too deep and that's not what I wanted for this post. It is a life changing event. That's an understatement of course. The change is more pronounced for us because just 72 hours before the "Incident" and diagnosis, Cyndie and I spent a couple hours with several old friends at a wedding reception. All those conversations would have been radically different if they'd have happened a week later.