The Solo Sleepover

And, there are times I write about the day-in-the-life to let you know you are not alone.  And, we did it!  We made it through some new situation alive, some-what happy, and with some sorta glucose stability.

Words like "trampoline park" and uh ... "sleepover"  scare the bejangels outta even the most seasoned of d'rents.  Well, I got to experience them both in the time span of less than 48 hours.  The trampoline park escapade was with a friend and his grandma; not with me and my watchful eyes.  The sleepover was an impromptu arrangement made at 8pm last night;  it was to occur at a home where I have not provided any education about t1d (and this is where hot fiery pokers repeatedly jabbed into my mascara fringed eyeballs sounded more enjoyable than enduring the anxiety that was about to ensue).

The trampoline park went well.  Joe consumed roughly 80 grams of carbohydrate for "free" and we reduced his basal by 40% for a couple of hours.  His blood glucose stayed safely in the low to mid-200s.

It was the sleepover where I really struggled.

Joe ran into the house last evening.  His voice was laced with hope, as he asked for permission to spend the night with a couple of friends.  It was the last night of his Spring Break.  The sleepover would be at a home where he would essentially be flying solo with his diabetes care.  Yes, he is independent, but it is reassuring to have a some sorta supervision over all the blood sugar checking, carb counting, bolusing, and equipment management; not-to-mention the whole sleeping thing.  Joe sleeps like the DEAD.  He does not wake up for Dexcom alarms.  Sometimes, he wakes up from a low. More often than not, I catch the low first and treat him while he sleeps.  Nights are scary for me, if I'm not there to help him.

I offered to let him stay at his friends until 10, until 11, until midnight.  Joe felt that defeated the point of a "sleepover".  He was right.  I know this much about diabetes... the psycho-social-emotional part of this disease can smother your spirit.  The over-dramatic struggle taking place in my brain looked something like this "let him go ... he most likely won't croak" and "don't let him go ... he may become a depressed, maladjusted mess of a person."  The struggle was real.

The question "would I let him do this if he did not have diabetes?" repeated and repeated in my thoughts.  The answer was, of course, a resounding "YES".  I needed to let him do this.

So, he did.  He slept over at his friends house.

The Dexcom Share was on through the night.

He texted me every couple of hours with his blood glucose until he was incommunicado, while he slept.  The Dexcom eased any concerns of demise, due to hypoglycemia.

>

Anxiety, and over-coming it, is perhaps the main reason I write about our day-in-the-life.

A Free Meal

It's one, of many, difficult concepts to explain to those who do not intimately know t1d;  the tasks that accompany the simple act of eating.  Typically, a blood glucose level should be obtained.  The number, if high, should be corrected with insulin.  The number, if low, should be treated with fast acting carbs.  The food that will be consumed should be counted for grams of carbohydrate.  The carbohydrate count should then be covered with insulin.  Eating, the joy of eating, ...at times..can be dampened by the cumbersomeness of the management.

This morning, Joe sat down to a chocolate chip pancake breakfast.

Outta habit, he went to do a check.

"Joe, you just corrected about 30 minutes ago."

His morning BG was in the 230s, which he corrected.  I had pre-bolused for the 120 gram meal of 3 chocolate chip pancakes and a full cup of OJ.

"It's kinda nice not having to do the diabetes stuff ..."

"Is it doing the stuff every time you eat that bugs you? ...  Or, the me reminding you?"

Joe was kinda quiet here.

Me.. "Perhaps, it is both?"  It's hard to conceptualize.  I'm possibly as annoying as living with t1d; maybe more so?

A few more seconds of silence.

A mumble-y "yeah " ... and then a quiet "both" came out of Joe's pancake-stuffed mouth.

Enjoying a meal without doing his day-in-the-life.