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.