When powerlessness becomes your greatest strength: Life is so unpredictable, motherf*cker (PHOTO)

Ivan Buncic is just one of the large number of parents whose child has diabetes. Just one out of many fathers, who met the hell of being powerless - when your child is not feeling well, when it breathes heavily, and you don't know how to help. Doctors don't know either.

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Every word in this text was written with paint, lack of sleep, fear and re questioning. This is a sincere, personal opinion of a parent and we are reporting to you in its entirety with desire to help everyone who have the same or similar problems.

This is not a cry,  but a personal display of a parent who learned how to fight it. This text is a proof that a strong family is a pillar of everything, support love and understanding are the most important in the world, and that they are actually - the only things that are important.

You are not alone dear parents! You are not lonely - others are going through the same thing you are going through, and everyone's difficulty is the most difficult to them. That is why, there is no giving up - learn how to accept the situation as soon as possible and to deal the problems. That is the only way you will win.

And hug your daughters and sons as strong as you can. Tell them you love them.

Foto: Ivan Bunčić

We transfer the entire text from the blog chabunkazur: 

Hi Sofija. I haven't written. I have my reasons. Its been three and a half years. Huh, they flew by.

I am writing this the day before we go to Tirsova (University Children's Clinic) for the fourth time. Why? I will start from the beginning.

It was summer. 2014. Beautiful. We packed. The car was full. We were all cheerful. Duster was ready to go down Solina again. Last time we messed up and we didn't get our travel insurance, so we had to pay 60 euros for pediatrician on Vis.

Near the crossing to Visegrad you vomited. You were feeling sick. You drank milk. Understandable. Children feel sick in car. A bit suspicious because you never vomit in car.

We arrived to Opuzen. "Daddy carry me!" "My legs hurt!" "No no no!"

First we thought that you were a bit spoiled but something was suspicious to me and Milica from the start. That was simply not our child. Our child was smiling, loves to play, runs, jumps on the bed, plays football. Last year you didn't want to get out of the water on Vis when it was 10 degrees.

This time no... Carry me carry me carry me... You are peeing like crazy. Drinking water like crazy.

You lie down to watch the cartoon and you had a pee before that, your diaper was changed, you are making a puddle around the diaper...

Textbook example... I wonder how the pediatrician didn't notice. - said the pediatrician in Tirsova when we returned to Belgrade.

But we didn't return to Belgrade immediately. Oh no. We roamed a lot. First you started to breathe rapidly. I am googling the symptoms, and i get diabetes. Hm, fuck, i remember that Laka has diabetes, is Sofija of that luck? Nah you are crazy - don't talk nonsense - eat shit - you are really a moron - you are just screwing around - don't be an idiot - what are you thinking - she is just a little whiny - you spoiled her a lot - she is sassy - she is rude - she needs to acclimatize.

We are going to the ambulance on Friday. We suspect some inflammation. Ear, ass, anything. They say in the ambulance, its no big deal, let her pee, let her drink water, humidity is a little acclimatization, little redness in ear.

Ok lets go back. You vomit once again, and once again. You breathe rapidly. Faster and Faster. 36 inhales per minute. What to do now, they gave us some pills. Let how the weekend goes. 40 inhales per minute. 16 is normal.

The weekend. Lets wait for the exam on Monday. Lets go to the beach, you will surely feel better by the sea. You are full of spirit, you want to play, you are a bit down, little crying, little screaming, but you want to play. The night comes. Gasping continues. We go through the weekend somehow and you are gasping all the time.

Foto: Ivan Bunčić

In the morning, you are sleeping on my chest, you get up and you say quietly: "Dad, i wa..aa..nt home". I freak out. I say to Milica that we are packing and moving to Belgrade and that i am not sure she will make it. Milica said to wait for the control and we will see.

Monday morning, we go to the pediatrician who thinks its asthma. She says its the humidity, swamp soil, it is surely some beginning of asthma, she gives the inhaler and the pump with Berodual.

Two more days go by and you are not better. I am still googling and i ask the internet doctor and all the symptoms point to diabetes. Your sugar lever was not measured. Doctor said you will be better. I ask Milica - what means better - she will jump out of the bed better or she will breathe a little slower and maybe she will want to eat something. She doesn't know. I don't know.

Wednesday morning. She said to come in the afternoon, i say to Milica to pack and we are moving in the morning. We are preparing Diksi (Milica's mother) that we might go straight to Split if the results are bad. Village doctors are taking the blood without measuring the sugar. They are doing X-rays, they suspect cancer, they are talking nonsense. The doctor said - my Sofija, i thought that you will come running to me to me. She was scared shitless. She has no idea what it is. X-rays clean, blood clean as a whistle.

I am saying - people, she is peeing, drinking water like crazy, she has collapsed, take the fucking blood sugar measurement. Young, pissed off doctor from the ambulance, come on you boredom, we will take her sugar.

The screen shows - 24.1.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

They try to put her on the apparatus, to plug in insulin and IV - its no good. I say don't waste another minute, to the vehicle and take her to Split. Milica is going with you to the ambulance, i am going for the stuff and i am going 157 km/h towards Split. Fuck, Duster can't go faster.

We arrive at seven. Milica has seen you on intensive care, she said that they struggled for half an hour to find your vein to plug you to the system.

I ask what is it - Diabetes Type 1. How - we don't know. At that moment we are praying for some indications that you will be better in few hours. Fuck, what indications, what...

The doctor said not to bother you with expressions she is in difficult Diabetic ketoacidosis. It is a state when blood has so much acid that it is a question of minutes if the person will survive or not. Its not the exact way she said it but its like she said it.

I am googling.

Due to the lack of insulin, which is secreted from the pancreas when carbohydrates are taken, blood sugar is deposited because it can not enter the cells, because there is no insulin to open the doors of the cells and to create energy from that sugar.

The consequence of that is the increase of blood sugar, more urination and more water because organism wants to get the sugar out of the body. Its not working out. Sugar is growing. There is no energy. Fatigue. Ketones appear. The process of decomposition of fat that must follow because organism tries to get some energy out of the fat. There is no energy. The last faze of ketoacidosis is rapid breathing. The lungs are trying to release ketones and sugar. When pH value drops to 6.7 the death occurs. PH value was measured 6.93 at that night.

Foto: Ivan Bunčić

Man, SHE HAD PH 6.9!!! You have a Superman child! We take 7.1 to serious intensive care - said pediatrician at the reception in Tirsova after a week.

Firule, Split hospital, which saved thousand little ones from diabetes, has a gorgeous view.

Normal blood pH is 7.3-7.5. The night before this morning was something i can hardly describe. I am not quite myself when i remember that. Somewhere around 6 am the doctor tells us that she is stabilized.

I won't number all the madness that are going through our heads. Phones ringing every second. Broken telephones, insurance, organization, airport, Tirseva, escort, insulin, psychologist, anesthesiologist, ambulance waiting at the airport in Belgrade, we arrive to Tirseva as i am driving the Duster to Belgrade, Diksi with me, Milica with you on the plane. Dusan calls me to ask me if should he wait at Slavonski brod or somewhere further. I am driving only 157 km/h because Duster can't go faster.

We arrive approximately at the same time at Tisova. You are well. You will be OK. The process of education starts. We have no time to weeping, for re questioning, for self criticism, for universal injustice, for someone else is to blame. That must not exist. We didn't take a single day of sick leave. We continue life as if nothing happened.

You are getting used to the blood measurements, you are always against getting the insulin shots but you are cute when you say:

- One two three four five six seven eight nine ten white moon is up and on the moon is written i love you the most.

The time goes. It flies, and now you are already 4.5 years old. And for every lamentation, cry, anxiety and restlessness we first check if you have high or low blood sugar, if you are hungry or you have some infection. For every you are stewpid dad, stewpid stewpid and mean... i know that you don't mean that...

Because now when you have infection that is a whole other game level. That is a trouble and worry how much insulin should we give to you, will you vomit it all and the problem was that we gave you the insulin, if the blood sugar is rising then falling and you are nervous and you won't eat. We monitor you every day, low blood sugar are also, if not more dangerous. You can't go under hypoglycemic coma when you pushed this much. :)

"I have a friend with diabetes, that is easy you live easy with it she just can't eat sweets" 

Go and fuck yourself! Do you know when you are not sleeping for three years. You fall asleep and you wake up at three in the morning to get blood sugar lever, and then error, you can't see, and its low, and shock, and wake up the child, and cookie...

Do you know that a child can't fuck around with food until it is three years old? Do you know what child doesn't fuck around with food?

I know, we are happy, its not cancer, its not tumor, its not multiple sclerosis, its not this, its not that. But its not FUCKING easy.

At last, it is easy to just be full of shit and stay alive.

Foto: Ivan Bunčić

My Sofija, you are growing up to be a beautiful girl, you are doing great at ballet, you are learning English on your own, you are drawing and i didn't understand that you can draw some things you drew yesterday...

You are the craziest and sweetest little girl on the planet. You are Supergirl.

I will bringing it,

I will not it give,

Rope,

Notgood,

You be. And I being,

I will get smallify,

Blocade,

I am princess's,

With some other toylet,

raildriver's who faintd,

who caughs,

give me legohorse and house,

and longen sword,

a pupel's path

to button up,

choo choo choo,

in that motent,

a tasty bunny,

Ancle Iija,

losten egg,

'ev u anderstood me?

shower robe, ev you forgatten me?

why are you my body checking?

you sent kiss me,

withaut hair

spaghetti bognessi,

you know what - you (you know what)

granny my mommy is notsmart - when they forbade you to to say someone is stupid :)

You will soon grow up. You will watch over your insulin pump on your own. I just want to say i am sorry, to say that i love you the most in the entire world.

You are my world.

Milica. I love you. Nothing would make sense without you. Than you for fighting together with me. Good luck tomorrow.

(Telegraf.co.uk / chabunkazur)