The Midlothian Turnpike and Nuckols Road locations of Cheeburger Cheeburger are generously hosting a fundraiser for us on August 23rd (all day). We can’t thank them enough for doing this! Print out this flyer and bring it in, and they will donate 15% of your bill to our JDRF walk team, Lucy Lu and the Sole Train. Some things to bear in mind:
- Type 1 diabetes is not caused by diet. Eating cheeseburgers (or anything else) did not cause Lucy’s diabetes. I’ve had to correct a few people in this misconception.
- As with most national restaurants, they have healthier eating options as well. A guy I work with that’s vegetarian just took a flyer. He’s not worrying about finding something to eat. Neither should you.
- If you’re a carnivore, save up your fat and calories for a day or so. It’ll be worth it.
We’ve broken down, taken the leftovers to Goodwill, and we’re picking up signs.
Perhaps not as quickly as we’d like, but it’s moving.
Hi folks, it’s time for the Eovino Family JDRF Junk-tique Yard Sale to benefit Juvenile Diabetes Research!
Come see us on Saturday, May 5, 2012 from 7:00 AM – 2:00 PM. We’re at 807 Ferrylanding Drive, Richmond, VA 23236
Items include the following:
- Tons of girls clothing
- Childrens toys and books
- A Little Tykes Storybook Cottage Toddler Bed
- Baby items
- And much, much more!
Pricing is as follows (unless otherwise marked):
- All kids clothing – $0.50/item
- All adult clothing – $1.00/item
- Stuff a plastic grocery bag of clothes – $5.00/bag
- Shoes – $3.00/pair
- Books – $0.50 or 3/$1.00
- Small toys – $1.00
Be sure to come out and support Lucy Lu and the Sole Train and help us find a cure for Diabetes! And if you have stuff to donate, let us know. We are accepting donations!
Please note that all sales are final.
I rejoice that there are owls…. They represent the stark twilight and unsatisfied thoughts which all have.
- Henry David Thoreau
We never seem to be able to completely master this diabetes thing. Week upon week of good readings, and then suddenly Lucy edges up higher. The endocrinologist ups her insulin dosage. And then the lows hit. The lows. Highs aren’t good for her, but the lows feel bad. Shakes. And nerves. And tears. She gets so upset, and I can only begin to imagine why. I really can’t fathom what it’s like to have so little control of your body, the way she does.
This was the story, last Saturday morning. Lucy wasn’t feeling all that great, but as soon as she tested her blood, she was in a free-fall. The monitor beeps, she looks down at it, and that “oh s**t” look washes over her face. I don’t even need to ask her what the reading is; I know it’s low. It confirms the way she was feeling, and she starts sobbing and shaking even worse. I take her into my arms to console her. I repeat to her, over and over again, that everything is going to be OK. She just needs to get this out of her system. After a few minutes, she mumbles something into my chest. I have no idea what she said, so I ask her to repeat herself. And she says what sounds like “I need a little owl.” This can’t be what she meant, so I ask Lucy to repeat herself and again I hear “I need a little owl.”
I hate to ask her to repeat herself again, but I have no idea what she’s talking about. She looks up at me and gives me that you-are-an-idiot-dad look that only your precious 11 year old can give you and tells me “I. Need. To. Let. It. Out.” And we all start laughing. Any time she needs a little owl, she’s due.
I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night
As we rushed to pack the car and head to my in-laws yesterday slightly after noon, I realized that Lucy probably hadn’t eaten any lunch. I shouted over my shoulder to her, asking if she’d tested and eaten. When she replied that she hadn’t, I barked at her that she needed to test and that I would make her some lunch to eat in the car. As I slapped PB & J on some bread, I could hear her sniffling just a few feet away. I raised my head and could see her on the verge of tears.
As we’ve been saying throughout this first year of diabetes, Lucy has been handling this like a trooper. Better than anyone could possibly imagine, with far more poise and grace than your average eleven year-old. But there was my little girl, about to burst at the seams. I took her into my arms. She buried her head into my chest and began sobbing. There was nothing I could say. Bless her heart, this damned disease owed her a good cry. ”I’m just so frustrated,” was all I could hear through the crying.
I don’t blame her for being frustrated. How could she not be frustrated? She can’t skip a meal when she doesn’t feel like eating. She can’t just hop into the car and go without making sure she has a bag full of medication. Candy is something she eats to keep herself from passing out.
So I held her in my arms and told her to just let it all out. Just go ahead and cry until she was done. Mary and Allie joined us in the hug. All of a sudden, the crying stopped. She looked up at me and said “I love you, Dad.”
I’m thankful for so many things, especially my three girls. But this disease, and what it does to my little girl? No thanks there.