It was supposed to be the perfect, well-deserved summer vacation. That’s what I promised her. She worked hard, played tennis, joined the Gifted and Talented program in math, and finished third grade with straight A’s. Since our motto is “work hard, party hard,” we boarded a plane to Europe for five weeks of travel and joy.
On June 13, 2023, a week after arriving in Romania, thanks to Nadia’s aunt’s vigilance (if you don’t have a pediatrician in the family, find one – they save lives), we checked into Bega Children’s Hospital in Timisoara.
Blood sugar level at admission: 608 mg/dL. Diagnosis: Type 1 diabetes.
What Does This Diagnosis Mean?
When you receive news like this, it feels like everything ends. You think your child’s life is ruined. I knew she’d be insulin-dependent and how painful that would be. I feared her sports dreams were over, that traveling would no longer be possible, and her life would become miserable.
The first two days in the hospital were horrific. I can’t imagine how she felt—setting off for a vacation only to end up in a hospital, with two IVs in her hands and this prognosis. Thankfully, the medical staff at Bega Hospital were exceptional.
They were kind to her and patient with me as I went from knowing “a thing or two about diabetes” to “almost earning a medical degree.”
We were given a strict regimen of diet and injections, following the textbook approach. 7-10 finger pricks daily to check glucose levels and 4 insulin injections (two in the stomach, one in the arm, one in the leg).
Does that sound terrifying?
It is.
Professor Iulian Velea (Puiu) personally took care of her, along with his team. He reassured us, taught us, and encouraged us.
The “funny” part was that Nadia had checked in wearing her Wimbledon outfit, and the professor, a tennis fan, noticed it. When Nadia asked him, “Does this mean I can’t play tennis anymore?” he replied that diabetes doesn’t prevent high-level sports. He mentioned Zverev, a professional tennis player with diabetes.
That was intriguing… Plus, exercise is crucial for staying healthy. And now, six months later, when I thought her dream of becoming the next Halep was shattered, Nadia is back on the tennis court, playing fiercely.
Diabetes Is a Grief You Can’t Mourn
A friend, who is also Nadia’s midwife, told me that when someone dies, you have the luxury of mourning. But I couldn’t, because I was afraid my child would become more scared than necessary.
I accepted the diagnosis calmly, encouraged her, and told her she now had a superpower. I did Zoom calls with my clients from the hospital because life had to go on. I studied the materials the professor gave us and read everything I could find online.
The first and only time I allowed myself to cry was when I picked up the Omnipod starter pack, the most advanced insulin pump available, from CVS. I insisted on getting it from day one, even though it startled the local doctor when I said not to waste time with traditional pumps. If insurance didn’t cover it, we would pay for it ourselves—anything to restore some normalcy for my child.
Walking out of CVS in tears, I held both the high-end system I secured for her and the lifelong reality we now faced.
It’s strange how the mind works… Even though the diagnosis came in June, holding those pods made it all feel real—that this would be our life now. Without daily insulin doses, my daughter wouldn’t survive. She would never be cured—Type 1 diabetes lasts a lifetime.
When Your Child Has Diabetes, Lean on Your Support System
Hospital days were overwhelming—IVs in both hands, glucose levels sky-high, and no partner by my side, as the news hit him hard from thousands of miles away.
But I wasn’t alone.
Nadia’s aunt spent hours on the phone with me, explaining things and reassuring me that I could give my child an excellent life. She asked multiple times a day, “How are YOU?” Friends called, brought gifts, and prayed for us. They asked, over and over, “What can we do?”
It feels strange to experience so much support, especially when your world revolves around keeping your child alive and steady.
But the truth is, Nadia was okay.
She was surrounded by great doctors and sweet nurses who treated her like a princess. They gave the same care to all the children in the ward.
Meanwhile, I operated on autopilot—following a strict schedule of insulin doses, glucose readings, and meal calculations. I woke up at midnight, 3 a.m., and 7 a.m. to take her readings, give injections, and calculate carbs.
I smiled constantly because, no matter how hard it was for me, my daughter was the one enduring endless pricks. She already cried from the injections that would never end, and she felt ravenous as her blood sugar levels dropped toward normal. As Grandma Ana would say, “Her stomach felt like her mouth was hanged.”
We survived those early days thanks to the people who shielded us from despair, obtained extra insulin, and gave us rides until we returned to the U.S. They were lifesavers during a three-week gap when I had no pediatrician back home.
I genuinely believe that the greatest wealth in life is the people who stand by you—family, friends, neighbors, even clients who crossed our path at the right time.
Life with Technology: The New Normal
Looking back, it feels surreal.
Today, we have a Dexcom sensor on Nadia’s stomach that reads her glucose every five minutes and sends data to my phone, the school nurse’s, and my husband’s. No more constant finger pricks, and the sensor changes every 10 days.
Her insulin pump, smaller than my AirPods case, attaches to her arm and changes every three days. She feels a slight pinch when inserting the cannula, but nothing afterward. She plays tennis, wrestles with Iris (our dog), and swims.
This setup only became possible once we returned home.
While in Romania and Italy, our daily routine looked like this:
- 7:00 – Blood sugar, insulin, breakfast
- 9:00 – Blood sugar, snack
- 11:00 – Blood sugar
- 13:00 – Blood sugar, insulin, lunch
- 15:00 – Blood sugar, snack
- 19:00 – Blood sugar, insulin, dinner
- 21:00 – Blood sugar, insulin, snack
- Midnight – Blood sugar
- 3:00 – Blood sugar
This was supposed to be a vacation?
It seemed impossible. But without real-time glucose data, strict monitoring was essential. Precision mattered because a mistake with insulin could be fatal.
The fear of a severe low haunted me, especially after two close calls. I knew what to do, but the fear remained.
Nights were the hardest. If her glucose dropped dangerously low, I feared waking up to find her lifeless. I never asked what would happen in that scenario—I didn’t dare.
Now, with the sensor, alarms wake me if her levels go too high or too low. It’s exhausting, but it gives me peace of mind.
Moving Forward with Hope
I don’t believe Type 1 diabetes will be cured in our lifetime, though advances offer hope. But rather than dreaming of miracles, my focus remains on giving Nadia the best life possible.
The new technology brings flexibility. We can sleep in, adjust meal times, and correct glucose levels without extra injections.
Best of all, she doesn’t mind the devices. The pump and sensor have become part of her, like glasses are for others.
At school, she receives incredible support. The nurse is brilliant, teachers are understanding, and her classmates admire her bravery. No one teases her—some even say they’d cry from just one needle prick a year.
She’s not self-conscious. I explained that her devices are like glasses—just tools to help her. And she has access to cutting-edge technology, which is pretty amazing.
This is our story so far.
I plan to start a new series of articles to help other parents facing this journey. It will also remind us to cherish the wonderful people in our lives, the blessing of a perfect child (yes, even with diabetes), and the ability to keep moving forward.
