Page 17 of Family First
“Yeah.” Noah nodded; his expression uncertain but with a hint of curiosity. Oliver “Cowboy” Cowan was a solid third line defenseman with New York, and had been since he was drafted, not only that but he was just about to move into his fifteenth year of playing professional hockey, which had to count for something. I just hoped to hell this was the right thing to do. A small, scared part of me wanted Oliver to explain how diabetes was this impossible thing, so I could keep Noah safe, but it was the treacherous part. The rest of me wanted Noah to do everything any kid wanted to do, without limits or restrictions.
“So, diabetes eh?” Oliver began. “I know it’s probably a little scary right now, thinking about how this is gonna change things for you. But let me tell you something, buddy—it doesn’t have to stop you from doing anything you love.” His voice still held that Texas twang from the town he’d grown up in, and that was despite him playing in the Big Apple all these years. It worked for him, sitting there all laconic and relaxed, drawling his words and making Noah perk up.
I glanced at Stan, who was seated in another chair, his arms over his chest, his expression neutral.
“I love hockey,” Noah murmured. “I want to play right wing like my dad.”
Oliver chuckled. “God help the D-man who goes up against you then if you’re like your dad.” He shot me a wide smile, and I returned it, and Stan bristled. “So, I was fifteen, a bit older than you, when I got hit with the news. I thought it was the end of my hockey dreams. But here I am, a defenseman for the New York Thunder, and I’ve learned a thing or two about keeping my head in the game, both on and off the ice.”
“What stops you from…” Noah made a motion with his hand like someone flopping to the floor, and then winced. “Sorry, I mean… I don’t know how to describe it.”
“You mean how do I stop a hypo, when my sugar levels drop too far, or hyper when they get too high? It’s all about balance, and first off, I’ve got some tech on my side. I wear an insulin pump.” He lifted his T-shirt, exposing a typical hockey player six-pack and his belly, to show a raised rectangle of white taped around the edge. “It’s like a tiny, personal mechanic, always tweaking the amount of insulin I get.” He dropped his shirt, and I swear Stan had been growling, then made it worse by tugging at a sleeve to show another thing fixed to his body. This time a slim pear-shaped device, again taped up, and with a plastic case on a band, which I assume protected it from knocks. “This is a continuous glucose monitor, a CGM, and believe me, you’ll get to be an expert at learning what all these initials stand for.”
“I have to learn those?” Noah looked lost.
I wanted to reach out and tell him that he didn’t need to learn a damn thing if it made his life easier—yeah, I was losing my shit. Of course, he needed to learn this, and in fact everything.
“It will be second nature, I promise. Anyway, the CGM…” He paused and gestured at Noah.
“Uhmmm… Monitoring. Glucose. I forget the C.”
“Continuous,” Stan murmured, his voice gruff. “All time,” he qualified.
Oliver shot Stan an amused glance. “Yeah, so the CGM is my buddy, always keeping an eye on my blood sugar levels, so I know exactly what’s going on in my body. I can check it just by looking at my phone or even my smartwatch.”
Noah’s mouth fell open, “Like a video game HUD?”
“Yep, just like that. It’s pretty cool stuff.”
Noah’s eyes widened. “I’d need a smartwatch,” he said and stared at me, and then Stan.
“Will get you twenty,” Stan offered, “All watch smarts. All kinds.”
It made me happy to hear Stan engaged and not sulking, and this time when Stan glanced at me, he caught me looking and we exchanged soft, supportive, loving smiles.
“So, here’s where it gets really space-age. I use what’s called ‘hybrid looping.’ It’s where my CGM and pump talk to each other.” He tapped his belly and his arm. “They’re talking right now, and if my sugar’s going high, the pump gives me more insulin. If I’m going low, it puts the brakes on. It’s not perfect, but it’s like having a co-pilot with me, twenty-four-seven.”
“I’d be wearing those?”
“Maybe, I don’t know what system you’ll have, but it’s one option, but what’s important is that I can play hockey, and at NHL level.”
“So, it’s easy?” Noah sounded so hopeful.
Oliver shook his head. “I’m not gonna blow smoke up your…” Stan growled, and Oliver smirked. “Well… no. Diabetes is with you forever, and yeah it might mean you can’t do some things, and some days you’ll hate it, and other days you might want to tear all of this off and just feel normal. There’s no easy fix, but work hard, look after yourself, and you’ll be fine.”
“But seriously, what about the NHL?” Noah asked after a pause. “I wanna play on the Railers like Papa and Dad.”
“And I bet you will, and that’s where it gets cool. On the team, we’ve got a nutritionist called Rainbow, and we work together to figure out what I should eat and when, especially on game days. Timing is everything with food, insulin, and exercise. She helps me stay at the top of my game without my levels going all rollercoaster on me. It’s a team effort—and man, it works. Diabetes hasn’t stopped me from staying in shape—if anything, it’s made me pay more attention to my body, which is a good thing. I hit the gym, I skate, I do everything the other guys do. The only difference is that I’ve got to be a bit more on the ball with how my body’s doing. I hide snacks everywhere, but, dude, don’t hide them on the bench because that place is unhygienic.”
Oliver glanced up at me, and I could read his expression, about how hard it might be, about the things he might not be saying, but the message here was that yes, Noah could play hockey. And that was all our hockey-mad pre-teen wanted to hear.
“And as for being a hockey player—that’s about toughness, smarts, and heart. Diabetes doesn’t touch that. It’s not about whether you’ve got something extra to deal with; it’s about how you handle it. I keep my head up, my stick down, and my eyes on the prize, just like you’re gonna do.”
“Okay.”
“One shift at a time, just like on the ice. You learn to listen to your body, to work with it, not against it. This is just a new part of your game plan, buddy. And you’ve got a whole team of people, including me, right behind you. I’ll give you my number for if you have questions.”
Noah’s eyes grew super wide then. “For real?”
