Been up since 5:30, avoiding the breakfast IOB...Joe's tryouts are at 8am. Last night, as Joe went to bed, I asked him to wake me when he woke in the morning. Told him that I would get his breakfast ready right away...plan was to hopefully feed him before 6am. Breakfast, bolusing, and morning hockey have notoriously been problematic for us over the years. Joe's body seems to be extremely insulin resistant with his first bolus to cover carbs. His breakfast ratio is a 1:10 (the rest of the day it is a 1:20 to a 1:50...interestingly enough the 1:50 comes at morning snack to put the "brakes on" the 1:10).
OK...that's the boring stuff...onto the good stuff...
Tryouts (part 1) went well. Well, that is, Joe did well. He skated hard. He did his best. Dave and I were proud of him. Most importantly, Joe was proud of himself. Felt he did good.
I was, however, a bit disappointed in myself. I share everything, too much perhaps, here. I share the good, I share the bad. I am not always pancreating perfectly and, as you know, my parenting tactics have their own set of issues. Combine alternative parenting, with being a pancreas, and with being a hockey mom...well, I mess up. A lot.
Here is what happened...please don't judge too harshly...I just wanted my kid to be evaluated on his skating...not on coming to the bench...I just so badly wanted for this chunk of time ...tryout-time ...for diabetes to not be involved. I always say I don't really care about where Joe gets placed as a result of these tryouts. My actions and behavior yesterday...well...they speak otherwise. I need to take a look at that, in myself.
Joe's pre-tryout blood sugar was 288. No IOB. I did nothing, thinking he would skate it down. Joe's and my plan included a blood sugar check half-way through the tryouts...at the 35-ish minute mark.
There were about 40 children on the ice. They were each assigned numbers and were wearing a corresponding pinnie. Evaluators were sitting on the opposite side of the rink, with clipboards... The kids do drill-after-drill-after-drill...repeating each one several times. 20 minutes into the session the kids are in like 6 lines...whistle is blown...a skater from each line takes off...skates hard to the blue line...hockey stops...whistle...another wave of kids takes off...first wave moves onto next line...whistle...third wave of skaters take off...first and second waves are moving on down the ice...skate.stop.skate.stop.skate.stop...they looked like soldiers. During this intense skating-hockey-stopping-drill, Joe peels out...to the bench...looks up at me and gives me the "finger-poke" sign, indicating he feels low.
Fine.
I noisily clump and clop down the bleachers in my newly purchased Old Navy ankle boots (bootlets?)...Woodchuck slung over my shoulder.
I was running fast. I didn't want Joe to miss his evaluation time. As I rapidly approached the bench, I hear a coach telling Joe to "get out there and hustle". I chime in with a "he has diabetes...needs a blood sugar check". He backed off. Told us to take our time...meanwhile, Joe is missing out on evaluation time...looking like a ninny to the evaluator guys holding the clipboards across the rink. They don't know our situation. Not sure I want them too, but don't want them to think my kid is a big baby that needs to go to the bench to be coddled by his mommy.
In one fluid motion...I ran to the bench, pulled out the glucometer...loaded the strip...pulled out and cocked the lancet...Joe's number was checked. He was 271.
*thought here is that site is going bad...mid 200s all day...not budging...Joe's number will hold steady for the rest of tryouts*
So, I said to Joe something like ... "Don't come back over to the bench. You are fine. You are 271. You're number hasn't budged. They (my eyes dart over to the clipboard guys) are evaluating you. You don't want to miss skating time for unnecessary checks. Don't come over...unless..."
"Mom, I felt low."
"Yeah, I know...but your not...go skate...and...have fun." (but what I really meant..go skate your patootie-off...screw the fun)
So, off he went. He skated. He stick-handled. He did fine.
Then, with 15 minutes left...he comes to the side of the rink. I am looking at him with a "what can you possibly need?" look...mascara-fringed eyeballs kinda buldging outta their orbits. Through the glass, through the helmet, through his gestures, I make out that Joe now has to go pee. Denied. I somehow convey back by pointing to the clock and giving him a "what-the-what?!" look with exasperated arm gestures that pee-ing will have to wait. He skated off.
Not sure how the mid to high 200s feels on one's bladder. He finished though. Did well.
Post-tryout number was 273. Changed his site. Only 1/2 corrected and bolused for dinner. He came down to 100 within and hour, or so. Had to stop the crash with a couple of glucose tabs.
A day-in-the-life of diabetes being part of it all...even when I wish it would just go away.
