The Scotch Kind

I was only in the basement for 25 minutes, working out.

I came up to this..

An old POD site, oozing blood on our kitchen counters (makes you want to come over for dinner, doesn't it?).

I look over to Joe, who is manning the POD change.

Joe..'I couldn't find medical tape, so I just used the scotch kind.'

Nice.

A day-in-the life of a 12 year old boy with diabetes.

Normally Atypical

As he clambered through the front door, a brisk and soft spoken 'I feel low' swiftly left his lips.  He was 68.  It was dark.  It was an early evening hour.

Type 1 Looks Like Us

A few days ago..

An hour or so before the above mentioned clambering..

I entered the house after a run.

In the mudroom, I removed my shoes.  My eyes glanced to the shoe tray and then to the shoe bin.  His sneakers were nowhere to be seen.

I then look to the kitchen.  His glucometer, sugar, and Dexcom were scattered  across the  island counter.

I yelled out a 'Joe' to make sure.

No answer.

He was gone.  I was pretty sure he was a couple of streets over, at his friend's house.  He was most likely playing a competitive, physical game, outdoors.

I pushed it, him being gone without his supplies, out of my mind.
 
I sliced squash for roasting.  I emptied the dishwasher.  I puttered; waiting.

Finally, I could ignore it no longer...

I took a peek at the Dexcom.  The last bleep on the screen was 30 minutes prior.  He was 150.

In the past, I would have driven around the neighborhood in search of him.  I would have taken him his diabetes supplies.  I let it go  on this day; wanting him to feel a bit more typical;  wanting to feel a bit more normal myself.

A normal, atypical day-in-the-life.

Changing

The intake questions were directed to Joe.

Do you use Apidra in your pump?'

'Yes'

'Are you on any other medications?'

'No'

'Have you been to the hospital for diabetes since your last appointment?'

'Yes'

'Were you admitted?'

'No.'

'Have you had your flu shot'

'No, not yet.'

'When was your last dilated eye exam?'

Joe's eyes darted to me.  I answered.

A couple of days ago, we visited the Endocrinologist.  Joe's A1C was 7.1.  The usual things were discussed and assessed.  The unusual part of the visit was Joe was now an integral participant in the visit. 

More questions were directed to Joe, by the endocrinologist.

'How's the carbohydrate counting, the blood sugar checking, and the bolusing going?'

'I'm asking you these things, not because you are going to get in trouble, but because these are the things you  are in control of ...I don't want to recommend changes to your settings if you are missing boluses or if your carb counting is off.'

My mouth twitched.  I wanted to talk.  I didn't.  It's Joe's turn now.  He's 12. 

Joe responded, confirming he was good with the carb counting.  He is.  Joe responded, confirming he checks his blood sugar regularly.  He does.  Joe responded, admitting he forgets to bolus for afternoon snacks.  He has a few times over the past few months.

Overall, Joe is doing well.  The basal rates need adjusting.  Apparently I've kept him on little boy settings and need to boost them up to more "teenager-y" settings.

He's changed so much.

He's grown over 3 inches in the last several months.

His toes frequently grow out the front of his sneakers.

His face has thinned.

His legs have thickened.

His total daily insulin dose is now over 40 units; it used to be in the low teens.


As we drove away from the hospital, Joe asked if he could start to help me with adjusting his pump settings.  'I need to start being a part of that Mom... someday I'll need to do it on my own.'

A changing day-in-the-life.