[10 weeks]

It’s not a pregnancy, but the first trimester of a relocation holds the same elements: danger, excitement, apprehension, panic, curiosity and plenty of have-we-done-the-right-thing? moments. And the tiredness hits. The other day I was watering plastic pot plants because I thought they were withering.

Our furniture finally arrived after our container was subject to a slight delay as customs officials held it back to examine the contents. Once it was here, unpacking the boxes was a frenzy of paper and cardboard. One broken platter, one broken lamp and one sliced surfboard cover. The collateral damage was not bad for a half-globe move. We even experienced a bit of magic! Somehow, across the seas and over many days, my tupperware population multiplied; box after box explodTupperware (2)ed with plasticware – tubs, lids, drink bottles.

Well, that took care of about 15 boxes and one cupboard. Now for the other 89 boxes. Unpacking is like playing jenga trying to fit everything into a new house, strategically working out what needs to go where without everything collapsing on you. Our already nervous dog’s blood pressure increased with every “Move Lana!” or “Get out of the way Lana!” All she wanted to do is go for a walk…through the paper and boxes. *sigh*

Eventually cupboards are filled (can’t believe I packed that roll of cling film from Australia?!) and Pinterest is consulted heavily for ideas of how to arrange cupboards and the spaces beneath sinks. Our friends, Amazon Prime, are called in to do some heavy work and for days there is a parade of UPS trucks outside our house.

We are fortunate enough to have a small group of friends in Brookfield. Largely, they come from the juvenile diabetes connection at #JDRF. There are a few disarming moments when we turn up at events or at friend’s houses and people come up to us and say “So YOU’RE the Australians! I’ve heard all about you.” I can only say that this is the closest we will ever get to experience what worldly famous people do each day they step out their front door. We are Brookfield Rock Stars! Even Callum had his own fan club at school where the girls two years ahead of him at school would sidle up and ask him to say something and he’d respond with an inane “Something” at which the girls screamed and ran away giggling. I asked Callum how he felt and he merely rolled his eyes. Just you wait young man, there’ll be a day when you will LOVE that attention.

We slowly build up an everyday presence in the US. It has been non-stop for 10 weeks while we navigate (literally) the roads, road rules, and the medical and insurance maze, without trying to gorge on everything that’s on offer. There is so much on offer – concerts, sports, new terrains and topographies, food. It’s a #smorgasbordoflife.

If you follow my blog I have talked about our pooch a bit as she is as integral to our family. Lana is now on Prozac because even our lovely holistic vet Dr Lisa felt that Lana needed a little help. I have often looked at Lana’s little blue tube of pills and wondered what if….

Oh how life has changed in the few months of this year. We’ve booked a trip to Costa Rica for some desperately needed sun and R&R before we come back to cruise through the second (easy) trimester.

Before this post ends, if you are feeling philanthropic, please consider donating to the #JDRFOneWalk. It is the flagship fundraising event for juvenile diabetes in the US and walks are happening all over the country in this next trimester. Donations are tax-deductible. Your donation goes towards changing the lives of millions of people who are diagnosed with diabetes including my awesome kid Callum. Here is a link to the donation page. Thank you!

And now the curveball…a diagnosis from out of nowhere

A previous post was about fastballs. This post is about the curveball. At this rate, I’m going to become an expert at baseball… or certainly baseball analogies! This may be helpful with our pending move to the US.

Callum was admitted to hospital recently. He had been ‘off’ for a few days and I just knew that something wasn’t right by the third day when he was the colour of ash and was curled into a ball on the bathroom floor, intermittently clinging to the toilet bowl. As life would have it, Marcus had had his work send off the night before so he was a little worse for wear and I wasn’t certain if the hospital would end up admitting both son and father. So I left the father at home to fend for himself.

It turns out that Callum has Type 1 diabetes. In this past week our lives have been overturned as we recover from the shock of this diagnosis. There is no history on either side, there were no symptoms other than that he’d been drinking lots of water and peeing a lot, and in hindsight, he’d lost a lot of weight. But it had been Christmas and he’d been mucking around non-stop with his cousins and friends. Callum will be dependent on insulin for the rest of his life, until someone can find a cure for it.

I am a basket case. It breaks my heart that my little boy has to face this. No 9 year old should be dealing with their mortality.

Callum is the champion. He is extraordinary. 

  • He is a super, resilient kid.The great thing is that he can still eat whatever he wants but he has to time when he eats it and how much of it he eats. He can still go to birthday parties and eat sausage rolls and cake. He can still keep doing all the sport that he wants. He can still become a Supreme Court Judge or play soccer for Liverpool. It’s all a matter of management and for him to learn how to manage it himself. Already he is doing his own blood glucose tests.

    School hasn’t started yet and Marcus is still around for a few weeks as he continues to wait for his visa to get the US. Little blessings that I’m happy to take at the moment.

    I’m not going to spruik. But here is the link to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation jdrf.org.

HUGE SHOUTS OUTS TO:

  • Box Hill Hospital Paediatric ED team particularly Dr Archie and Nurse Bon who managed to unravel my garble and pick up on the T1D.
  • the ICU and DACS teams at Monash Children’s Hospital – Meagan, Renata, Adam, Belinda, Tracy and Jacky and all the other extremely calm nurses who helped me hold my shit together in the first 72 hours