Day 3 Topic: Diabetes bloopers - Whether you or your loved one are newly diagnosed or have been dealing with diabetes for a while, you probably realize that things can (and will) go wrong. But sometimes the things that go wrong aren’t stressful - instead sometimes they are downright funny! Go ahead and share your Diabetes Blooper - your “I can’t believe I did that" moment - your big “D-oh” - and let’s all have a good laugh together!!
In reviewing my "bloopers" with D', a common theme was identified.
Nights and sugar dispensing present challenges. Straws go up nostrils. Glucose tabs... nostrils. Oh and the then there was that nasal-"mother birding"-test-strip-jock-strap incident...
I had the family vote on the story to be shared and the winner was, hands down, the "Pudding on the Sheets" incident.
(the "condensed version")
I know, you are on the edge of your seats wanting to know about the puddin'.
1:30am ~ I was woken up by my snoring husband, who was sleeping-off a Stanley Cup Playoff win by the Detroit Redwings. I did a "Dexter Call". Dexter was running right on (BG=127/Dexter=121) diagonal downing (sounds like a yoga pose). I gave a glucose tab in hopes of sleeping for the remainder of the night. This was the last glucose tab in our home.
2:30am ~ Brummmmmmph ... Brummmmmmmmmph... Brummmmmmmmmmmmph. (Dexter "vibration" noises)
I stumbled out of bed, eyes half open, shuffled to Joe's room, peered at Dexter. 64 with a stable arrow. I go to the kitchen...search for glucose tabs ... then remembered we have no glucose tabs. A 'For F*ck Sakes' was mumbled somewhat incoherently in my sleep-deprived thought-feed. After the profanity sequence, my mind wandered to Meri and her "pudding" solution to nocturnal lows.
I had recently purchased some.
I grabbed the chocolate pudding and a spoon and headed to Joe's room.
You see, I didn't really go over this plan, the "puddin' plan", with Joe at all and he is a verrrrrrrry deeeeeeeeep sleeeeeeeeeper.
Back to the puddin'....
I scooped up the pudding. I was doing a gentle "spoon wiggle" trying to wake Joe just enough so that he will consume my offering. Nope, he was not "biting" in both senses, literally and figuratively. So, I try to drag and hoist his limp-cinder-block-carcass up to a sitting position. The zombie-like, flail-y (word?) noodle, otherwise known as my son, won't budge. Again, I tried to place the spoon to his lips with just a touch of pudding, thinking he will like the taste and just eat it in his sleep. He took a small amount, like a teaspoon. Fine, I go in for the "cram" technique. As I go in with a ram-rod like fashion, Joe resisted with his mouth, pursing his lips tightly together and then suddenly he started turning his face...back and forth...back and forth. He turned and smeared his face into his bed ... his face that was covered with chocolate pudding.
The following morning, Joe's bedroom looked like a crime scene for an exsanguinated small, rabid squirrel.
Joe's low came up ... blah, blah, blah... ended up using juice ... blah, blah, blah... Meri later informed me that night lows are treated solely with vanilla, never chocolate. Good to know.
A snippet... from "Sugar Dispensing Tampons? (I wish)"
"Certainly there was some sort of blood sugar bumping, nudging, boosting item buried in that bag. Nope, there was NOTHING, NOTHING but TAMPONS. There were TAMPONS at the bottom of the bag. There were TAMPONS in the internal bag compartment. There were TAMPONS in the outer little zippered pocket. Apparently I was ready to save the world with the plethora of super-duper absorbent tampons I had stock-piled in this bag. Honestly what was I planning on doing with the arsenal of tampons? I was supplied to assist a few peri-menopausal women with some serious "life-threatening" feminine hygiene issues at the pool, but forgot to bring some "lifesaving" sugar for my son. DUH".
I wonder if that paragraph could win some sort of award for "The Most Times The Word Tampon Has Been Used In A Paragraph"?