Saturday, May 18, 2013

An Hour's Time...

The numbers never cease to amaze me.  How quickly they can turn on you; for the better or for the worse.

10:00 am-ish today:  BG: 319    Ketones: 3.9.  Site was removed; cannula was kinked.  Supposedly Joe had been in the 300s since 6am.  I never checked in with him about his pre-breakfast number until now (head hangs and shakes from side-to-side in shame).  New site was placed.  A "correction" of 2.3 units of insulin was given.

"How long will this last?" ~ Joe to me.  He is referring to the death-ate-a-cracker-feeling that he is enduring.

"Hopefully not more than a few hours."

Joe's sick.  Ketotic sick.  He's never been that kind of sick before.  Sure, he has been vomit-bug sick with subsequent ketones, but not vice-versa...the ketones inducing the "vomit-feeling" sick.

He is pale.  He is lethargic.  He is nauseated.  He is crumpled in his bed.  He should be at a baseball game right now.  And, sadly I actually tried to push him to go and play.  (I have a "competitive issue".... and ahhh... a "suck-it-up issue)."

Sometimes, actually a lot of the time these days...I forget that I am messing with a disease.  Not sure what I think I am doing with all the blood sugar checking and bolusing and carb counting and needle jabbing.

The "invisibilities" of  type 1 diabetes are like a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I am thankful for Joe's "normal-ness" in his appearance. His ability to run, jump, skate, bike, scooter, gallop, skip, and careen astounds us all. I am thankful for it; truly I am. On the other hand, what is difficult; what stings; what is painful is that the very thing I am grateful for is the very thing that detracts on why a cure is so desperately needed. It takes away from all that is done "behind the scenes", hourly, to ensure Joe's safety and wellbeing. The hidden sequella of it all can lull you into a false sense of comfort. It can lull the public into the inaccurate perception that we "have it under control". It has even, at times, lulled me into apathy and indifference.

An hour later...11:00 am:  Joe's perky voice is calling from his bedroom announcing his recovery as evidenced by his sudden urge to consume a fluffer-nutter.  BG: 249    Ketones:  2.4.  Carbs: 48.  Insulin Bolused:  2.3 units.

Things are going to return to "normal" quickly it appears.  The numbers, like I said before, never cease to amaze me.  How quickly they can turn on you; for the better or for the worse.  In and hour's time, things are drastically different.  Must be unsettling for one's body and subsequently for one's psyche.

A day-in-the-life of  an hour's time of living with type 1 diabetes.


Denise aka Mom of Bean said...

I'm thankful for those times that the numbers turn quickly! The sooner our kiddos can get back to feeling normal, the better.

The invisibility is truly a double-edged sword. We want our kids to 'blend in' to not feel 'obvious' because of D.
But at the same time it keeps people from understanding the seriousness of it all. And I totally hear you on it lulling us into a false sense of security.

Kelly said...

Oh those darn numbers! They sneak up on me every time. Glad to hear that Joe was starting to feel better. xoxo

Sarah said...
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Scott K. Johnson said...

Such a double edged sword, for sure. Sigh...