Sometimes I hate diabetes.  I mean really, really, really HATE diabetes.  My young son, Noah, has lived with Type 1 diabetes for a little over three years now.  We still don't have it controlled.  As soon as we think we have a working system down we find out something in his body isn't working the same.  Then it is back to the drawing board to try to figure out how much insulin he should be getting and at what times he should be getting it.   Managing diabetes really forces one to be flexible--even when you feel so stretched that you could break.  Today I had one of the worst scares of my life.  After a week of lows, Noah had yet another 'fit'.  I do not know how to describe how terrible these episodes are.  It is as if he is having a seizure, rolling on the ground and thrashing about.  He is crying, moaning, whining, and all I can do is try to hold him tight to my body as I pour a fast acting glucose drink down his throat.  I hold him and tell him, "I love you, Noah.  It will be alright.  Drink this!  It will help your blood sugar.  I love you, Noah. So much."  He is  strong and yet I feel so frustrated, because no matter how much I want to I cannot take this disease from him.  I do believe that every challenge we have in life will be to our good if we handle it in the  best way that we can.  For Noah, one of his challenges is this life-controlling disease.  For me, as his mother, it is seeing my little boy struggle as he tries so very hard to live a normal life.