I'm a Checker, but not a Mice Checker...Yo

A few days ago..

 

Pre-post note:  We are currently besieged by mice.  Traps are set in the basement and the main level of our home. 

The words "GI BUG" scare the BeJeezus outta even the most resilient, calm, cool, and collected of d' rents.  Joe currently has one.  I was up at 3 am ... checking a blood glucose, ketones, and then bolusing insulin.

As Dave woke, I updated him on the night care provided.

Me:  "I checked his BG...high 200s, ketones were OK...I've bolused twice over the last three hours."

Him:  "What about the mice?"

Me:  "What?"

A sick Joe with Oscar.  Miniature Schnauzers are supposed to be mousers! 

Him:  "Did you check the mice?" (referring to our traps)

Me:  "I'm the ketone checker; you're the mice checker."

Checking in on the day-in-the-life, but not on the mice. 😱

I Don't Have All The Answers

"I knew about the highs and not taking care of my diabetes and losing arms and legs...but I did not realize I could feel so sick."  ~ Joe talking to me about his death~ate~a~cracker ketone sickness feeling from the other day.

"...so without insulin, would I just feel like that?  I would feel that sick until I died?"

*Uhh oh.  Not the dying business.  Please don't ask.  Please don't ask.  Please don't ask.*

"How long do ya think that would go on for?  The dying?  A year?"

*Ohhhh Man.* 

*Of course, he had to ask.*

"I dunno Joe.  Maybe a week or two?"

No one or nothing can really prepare you for all the conversations you will have with your children.  Limb loss and death have got to be amongst the toughest.  This talk of arm-less-ness and leg-less-ness and life-less-ness ("less-ness-es" added in to "lighten" the mood here) made me squirm as a parent.  What to say and how to say it; I do not know. 

Yesterday...




...Joe "raced" to CURE diabetes.

A day-in-the-life of  talking with Joe.

Fickle D'

"What was he?" ~ Dave to me at 3am...

"144"

My "one-eye" started to close and then I thought perhaps maybe I should ask why he was asking. 

My "one-eye" reopened ~ "Why?"

Dave's sleepy voice yammered off something about 9 glucose tabs and something about the 40s.

Me ~  "oh, I forgot to tell you that I never bolus for all of S'mores ... just half ... he always goes low after eating them."

Joe had a rough diabetes day yesterday.

6:54 am 337
9:06 am 306
10:05 am 319 (ketones 3.9)
11:18 am 248 (ketones 2.4)
12:14 pm 319  (ketones 1.4)
1:46 pm 448
2:14 pm 422
2:53 pm 406
4:01 pm 255 (ketones 0.0)
5:35 pm 56
6:56 pm 46
7:15 pm 110
8:15 pm 77
9:00 pm 80
10:49 pm 52
11:09 pm 41
11:29 pm 65
2:30 am 44
3:16 am 144


He handled it with grace.

A day-in-the-life of fickle d'

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.