Early release from school was yesterday. The girls get out at 11am. Since I was at work all day and Josh was home with the kids, all I can do is assume the many hours of running and biking outside is what caused Maddison some lows before bed. At bedtime she was a grump monster. She was 65 with zero active insulin. Normally (the key word here being NORMALLY) 8 carbs would have her back in safe range for bed. Knowing she had many hours playing outside all day I gave her 15 instead. She was then 98 going to bed. I would check her in another 30 minutes to assure she settles in the 120-130 range for sweet dreams.
She hoovered at 98 for nearly two hours until I decided to go to bed at 11pm. Josh was up, so he would check her in about an hour. She was then 65, or so the meter said. I could hear Josh trying to get Maddison to drink juice. She refused with twisting and turning and hiding under the covers. That isn't typical for her. Normally she would suck down a juice box in seconds as most Diabetic kids in their sleep. After coaxing and pleading Josh was becoming angry with her (a bit of stress these days at our house!) and I decided to take over knowing she would be more resistant to Dads vicious commands. I figured she was perhaps dropping fast because of her unusual combative response. I got her to take some juice and two glucose tablets although she was now screaming NO! NO! I waited only about 5 minutes to recheck because I was sure she was lower than we originally thought. The meter showed a frightening 46.
I carried Maddison off to my bed and laid awake for what seemed like hours. Although she was a "safe" 138 by now, I always fear going back to sleep after a serious low in the middle of the night. I have to make sure she doesn't wiggle or move in strange ways indicating another impending low, or every parents fear, a seizure. When I finally fall asleep with my arms around her tight, the slightest move makes me leap out of bed confused and reaching for her meter. It happens every time. This has become a vicious cycle for me after Maddison's lows in the night. It even haunts me for days. As Penny mentioned yesterday in her blog.....is this irrational? In some ways yes, but still, anything is possible with this horrid disease. This isn't irrational, it is the scary truth.
Maddison has been doing so well overnight the past month or so that I even sleep for an entire four hour stretch without getting up to check her blood sugar. I think tonight I might be tempted to check her too much. I don't like Diabetes to take over my mind and cause fear. The more I worry, the more irrational my fears become until the point that I end up angry with this whole Diabetes thing. I don't like being angry and bitter. I don't like living in fear. Seeing a 46 in my combative 8 year old little girl brings back all of this, yet they tell us it is just a number. Do they know what that number FEELS like to parents that manage Diabetes? Diabetes to me, actually isn't about the numbers. I can manage the numbers. I feel in control of that for the most part. Diabetes for me (being an overly emotional person!)is day after day of trying to "stabilize" emotions. I don't want to be angry when Maddison is high. I don't want to be terrified when she is seriously low. I don't want to feel scared when I send her off to school. I don't want to feel guilty when I can't figure things out. But, I DO. Maybe at some point I will be able to just coast through our days without feeling each number? Or maybe I think that is when you start to not "try" anymore. Maybe that is what I am afraid of?
I have a really strange way of purging my "irrational" thoughts and emotions to myself and then immediately brain washing myself into letting it all go. Forgetting it all. Then I make a mental list of all the positives, the good days, the blessing of modern medicine, faith in someone always being with us to guide us through. It is then that I move on, I'm back to seeing numbers just as numbers, not feeling the emotion tied to it. I can then learn from it.
At the moment though, it breaks your heart when you see 46. It takes your breathe away in the middle of the night knowing your little girl doesn't feel it, she needed you to keep her safe. Picture a combative, tired little 8yr old girl all snuggled up in her pajamas. She has big brown eyes, and golden hair. She's sweaty and pale, and she is just trying to sleep. 46, to me, is alot more than just a number. I wish they understood that.
Moving my blog again
8 years ago