Kids and sports: Head injury concerns
Originally appeared on my Huffington Post blog, January 2014.
Having a Son Has Ruined Football for Me
I grew up just outside of Philadelphia; my formative years coincided with a time in Philadelphia Eagles football that is known simply as 'The Buddy Ryan Era.' The defense and mindset that Coach Ryan brought to the Eagles formed how I think about football and my opinion of how it should be played. The 'defense first, hit harder then them' edict that Ryan put into practice was so exhilarating to watch that I could spend an entire Sunday preparing for and watching an Eagles game and not care if they lost 10 to 7.
I never once thought of those games as boring, and it never occurred to me that my team should focus more on the offensive side of the ball. Even though those Eagles had one of the most electrifying quarterbacks that I had ever seen in Randall Cunningham, I just didn't care if they scored. The offense would go three and out more times in a season than I could count, they couldn't win very much and I am hard-pressed to remember many names that played on that side of the ball, with the exception of Cunningham. The Eagle's defense, in contrast, punished opposing players. Men like Wes Hopkins and Andre Waters patrolled as safeties in a way that made the players on the other team quake. Entire games would go by without a pass attempt over the middle of the field, because no one wanted to get hit by Wes and Andre. At the risk of sounding like an old man, I want people who grew up watching football over the last decade or so to know they aren't watching football -- at least not the football I grew up with. You are watching millionaires play catch.
If you don't believe me, ask Troy Aikman how his shoulder feels, mention the name 'Clyde Simmons' to him as you do and see if he doesn't look just a bit scared, still, to this day. I witnessed Clyde chase poor Troy, flushing him out to his right, Clyde hit Troy in his left side, wrapped him up and drove his body into the hard surface with the full force of his massive frame following right behind. If I remember correctly, Troy separated his shoulder that day and if my memory serves further, Clyde didn't check to see if Aikman was okay or offer him a hand-up -- Clyde screamed at Troy, pointed and walked away pleased that he had done his job. It was like watching a war; there was no mercy and no regard for anyone who wasn't on your side. Ask Ernest Givens how he got his nose broken, ask every offensive lineman that Reggie White literally lifted, one-armed, and threw aside like a paper doll on his way to the then NFL sack record. My point is, I grew up watching violent, punishing football, and I loved it.
That is why I was surprised to hear the following words come out of my mouth when my 7-year-old son Cole was invited to play on a football team: "That's very nice of you to ask, thank you for thinking of him... but Cole isn't allowed to play football." When the father who coached the team asked why I refused, I, only partially joking, asked him if he would be comfortable with his son coming to my house to play if I said that the boys were going to go into our backyard, get a running start and run as fast as they can into my house. "Don't worry," I told him, "I'll give them a plastic helmet to wear."
Before that moment, I never once considered if I would be comfortable with my son playing football. He was -- and still is -- a committed baseball player, and I never imagined I would need to have an opinion. It just never came up. The boy in me who was raised on Buddy Ryan football was shocked to hear himself not just say no, but to have such a protective and visceral response. It was a confusing moment; my ego and pride were alive with the notion that someone thought my son would be a good football player, but the idea of him banging his head into other people terrified me. That was many years ago, before I had ever heard the words 'chronic traumatic encephalopathy' (CTE). To be perfectly honest, at that time, I'd never heard of an NFL player taking their own life and never once did I wonder about what happens to the men who play football, after they leave my television screen.
As Cole has grown, I have gotten more inquiries. One very kind man approaches me twice a year to ask if Cole will come play Quarterback for his rather competitive team. I wish that I could say yes. The kid in me who watched the Eagles growing up wants Cole to play and the part of me that is proud of my son hates holding him back, but the father in me wins this argument every time with one simple thought, "My kid need his brain, I can't take that risk."
Andre Waters took his own life in 2006, only four months after the first time someone asked me if my son wanted to play football. I loved watching that man play football, and now he is dead. Pathology reports indicated that Water's brain tissue was that of what would be expected in an "85-year-old man" and that it had characteristics of a person in the early stages of Alzheimer's Disease. Waters was 44 years old when he died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Dr. Bennet Omalu said at the time of his death that if Andre had lived for another 10 to 15 years, he would have been, "fully incapacitated." That news when I read it on ESPN, made me sad for every time that I cheered him on. I felt complicit in his death and my love for football has been waning ever since.
I didn't watch one game last season after I listened to Malcolm Gladwell deliver a speech to the University of Pennsylvania about CTE. Mr. Gladwell showed a great resolve when he brought his feelings about CTE directly to a school that lost a player,Owen Thomas, to an allegedly CTE-related suicide. I walked away from that speech knowing that I shouldn't be part of anyone else getting hurt, even if I was just watching.
I can't imagine that I would have experienced such a moving response to the news of these men and their deaths if I were not a parent. I began periodically watching NFL football again this year after deciding that my opinion, no matter how well-intended, cannot and should not interfere with the will of another person. The men that play professional football are adults and they can decide how much risk they are willing to absorb in an effort to experience the rewards of playing. I would be lying if I didn't admit to being greatly conflicted on this issue. I do love watching football, but I don't respect myself as I sit down to take in a game.
What I can do with a clear conscience is stop supporting with my dollar or my backing any form of football that is played by a child or young adult who can't cognitively process the danger they incur with thoughtfulness to the long-term risk possibilities. Children can't and shouldn't be expected to have foresight on topics such as this, especially when the allure is so grand -- hell, I can't even stop watching on Sunday. I'm quite certain that my little stand isn't going to make a dent in the popularity of American football, and it isn't my intention to talk you out of watching or in any way infer that parents who let their children play are wrong to do so.
I am completely aware that football has helped instill lessons about teamwork and perseverance in millions of young people, most of whom will not develop CTE. This article is not a judgment or condemnation of any parent's decision; I only wanted to share how being a parent has changed the way that I look at this game, a game that I loved with all of my heart for most of life.
The memory of the men whose lives have been altered by football-related injuries haunt me as I watch. I'm genuinely interested in seeing where the future takes me. I wonder if I'll be able to break free of the amazing memories that I have of the warriors that played defense in Philadelphia when I was a boy, to follow my conscience and stop watching football. At the moment, the exhilaration of the game is winning out, a fact that I am not proud to admit and will think about as I watch the big game on Sunday.
Pitstop fail!
Allow me set the scene
Arden's school has a half-day scheduled and one of her friends has organized an outing for a few of the girls after school. The group is being picked-up by one of the mothers for lunch and a manicure, I am not attending. We will manage BGs as we do while Arden is at school, a sleepover or other out of the home events.
What could go wrong? How about, literally everything...
We were battling a stubborn blood glucose number all morning, it was one of those 180ish numbers that just won't budge. Arden's pump was due to be changed later in the day but I thought it could make it just a little longer - I was wrong.
Arden's morning snack sent her BG into the 300s but we didn't know immediately because her DexCom sensor gave out just after we bloused for the snack. Are you following so far? Pump site going bad, just ate, CGM not reporting.
When Arden texted that she was getting ready to leave school, I asked for her CGM number and she replied, "It says ???". Okay, no problem, "we can just test a little more while you're out", I said. Knowing that they would be at the restaurant in under ten minutes, I asked her to test so that we could bolus for lunch... Arden tested and was over 340.
It was then that I decided to go to the restaurant and perform a 'diabetes pitstop' in our car. Seemed easy, and I had a plan. I wanted to changed her pod, swap her CGM and inject insulin for her high BG and the food she was about to eat. I didn't want all of this to ruin her outing so I didn't think twice about letting her eat with the high BG, normally we'd wait.
In my imagination, I saw Arden hop into my car; we'd switch her pod and pop off the old one, inject some insulin, swap her DexCom receiver, and she'd be back inside before anyone realized that she had left. Smooth, like a pitstop.
Arden got into my car and I told her my plan, she looked at me like I had two heads. She was not thrilled about trying all of this in a car.
Putting on the new pod went smoothly, but she wasn't terribly comfortable getting an injection in the cramped car. After a bit of drama, we injected and moved on to the DexCom receiver and that's where, to use a topic specific metaphor, the wheels came off.
Arden has been wearing a DexCom CGM for years and years and we have never, I want to reiterate - NEVER hit a vein upon insertion - until we tried to do it in my car, outside of a restaurant... while her friends were waiting for her. The blood would not stop, it was gushing out from under the sensor and going in every direction possible.
Arden freaked out just a little and I began to feel defeated and then she said something that broke my heart, "Let's just go home".
I removed the sensor, stopped the bleeding with some glove compartment napkins (Huge thanks to my wife for suggesting that I keep napkins in my glove compartment) and worked to help Arden find a little calm. When she relaxed I told her this...
There are going to be times when diabetes is difficult but we can't let it beat us, we can't give in to the feeling that is telling us to go home. We live our life no matter what. This isn't how you hoped today would go and I am sorry that my plan didn't workout very well but you are going to pull yourself together, go back inside and eat with your friends. Then I want you to get your nails done and forget about all of this, it's over - you're fine.
I felt like crap when I dropped her off at the door to the restaurant, I couldn't believe that so much went so wrong, all at once. Moments before, Arden asked me why we were having so many problems and I responded, "It's just bad luck - randomness that seems like it's not". She laughed when I told her I was sure that we had used up our allotted 'bad luck' for the month in the last five minutes.
Arden went on to eat and laugh with her friends, she got her nails painted purple and had a wonderful afternoon. I'm grateful that I didn't give-in to the pressure that diabetes put on us, I think that it would have been a serious personal setback for Arden and perhaps me, if I would have taken her home.
Proud to say that this blog entry is a Best of the 'Betes Blog winner. Thank you for nominating me!
There is a ton of value in persevering through moments like these because you can't replace or recreate the tough situations that teach us the most. I know that none of us want these challenges, but there is so much that you can take from them... sometimes they are worth the hassle.
In the News: Long Island Hospital Admits to Improper Insulin Practices
CBS New York is reporting that the South Nassau Communities Hospital in Oceanside, NY is contacting patients who received insulin injections from a pen reservoir that might have been used with more than one patient.
from CBS New York
"More than 4,000 patients have received, or may soon receive, a disturbing letter in the mail about the risk.
The component that might have been reused was the reservoir – the part of the insulin pen where the hormone is held until injection — and not the single-use needle, the statement said.
The pens each contain multiple insulin doses with disposable needles. While nurses used new needles for each patient, they did not use a fresh pen.
Blood may have back-flowed into the chamber contaminating the insulin, the hospital warned.
The hospital said while the testing process is voluntary, it is recommended. The hospital will be offering the patients free and confidential blood testing services, and asked patients to schedule a blood test within 60 days of receiving the letter."
Weekend Roundup
Happy Blue Friday, I hope you enjoy the weekend and a few of these initiatives, stories and a giveaway.
You take the quiz and a diabetes charity that we all love gets money - nice!
When you take this two minute quiz Novo Nordisk will make a donation to the Diabetes Hands Foundation.
Help Strip Safely to effect real change in the FDA's meter rules.
from strip safely: "FDA has two draft guidance documents about blood glucose meters that are open for comment until April 7, 2014. A “draft guidance” is basically a preview of what standards the FDA is considering requiring in order for blood glucose meters to be cleared — the law requires that FDA open its draft guidance documents up for comment before publishing a final version. FDA welcomes comments from the public, and so we highly encourage everyone affected by diabetes to submit their considered thoughts." - I did it last night, it's easy and important. Go take a look.
This week on Arden's Day
We are giving away a pair of diabetes circles shoelaces - easy to enter
This simple pancake recipe is easy on Arden's BGs
Does your DexCom make you sing?
I wrote a piece for Disney about spousal engagement and your child's diabetes management
Name that Tune: Diabetes Edition
You know how hearing a certain sound or word can make music begin to play in your head, sometimes you are even prompted to sing out loud? That happens around here more than you would expect and almost always because of diabetes.
You know how hearing a certain sound or word can make music begin to play in your head, sometimes you are even prompted to sing out loud? That happens around here more than you would expect and almost always because of diabetes.
Available on iTunes
This first one always gets me and most times I can't stop myself from singing out loud. When Arden's BG gets low, her DexCom G4 'beeps' three times... BEEP, BEEP, BEEP...
As soon as the tones stop, I sing, "Everybody get up...".
Check out the music, see if you hear it too.
Available on iTunes
Arden has said in the past that she can "feel the fall". What she means is that when a high BG is beginning to come down, before her meter or CGM can even tell what's going on; she can sense that it's happening.
She'll look at me very seriously as she tries to make sense of the sensation. Then she looks right into my eyes and says, "I think I'm falling...". There is something about Arden's phrasing that makes us all sing-along with Ms. Alicia Keys.
Also on iTunes
It's a simple question that gets asked about thirty minutes after we bolus for an elevated blood glucose,
"Arden, is that insulin working... check your CGM" - When everything is going as planned Arden answers, "It's going down" and the entire house sings...
"I'm yelling timber!"
On iTunes
More music courtesy of the DexCom G4. Two beeps can indicate a high or rising BG. In this house they are also an excuse to sing the theme from Rocky 3.
Rising up!
We listen to all kinds of different music but I there is just something about diabetes that makes catchy pop songs jump into our heads. I'd love to know if this happens in your homes, I think if it did... I may feel less weird the next time I belt out, "Everybody get up!". I can't wait for the next wave of summertime radio to arrive so we can replace a few of these songs, I need a new diabetes playlist - this one is so 2013. Don't worry, I'm keeping 'Eye of the Tiger'
