Thursday 9/26/13
All-Night Diner
It’s one of those nights.
Good ol’ Diabetes is whipping out his famous torture tactic…sleep
deprivation. In the great words of DH,
Sleep Deprivation is Diabetes’ Water-boarding.
I woke up at 0600 on Tuesday morning. After getting the kids off to school, going
to the gym, and running errands, I took about a 2.5 hour nap in preparation for
my 12-hour night shift. With joy, I
spent 12 hours caring for other people’s babies.
I arrived back home about 0730 on Wednesday morning. After tending to the dogs and throwing a
roast in the crock pot, I slept about 4 hours.
Ordinarily, I’ll sleep a bit more than that after working, but Wednesday
was special. You see, the schools have
these great random days where they release students early. I call them “Parental Inconvenience Days”;
they call them Teacher In-service Days.
Whatever. I chose to make the
best of it. I took the boys to see Planes,
and since Daddy was home, I snuck in a quick pedicure before dinner. My roast was fabulous by the way, which is
precisely why my kids didn’t want to eat it.
My plan was to hit the hay about 10pm after I knew the boys’
blood sugars were ok. That’s where my
thinking became flawed. Diabetes latched
onto my plans and decided to sabotage. We did our typical 7:30 pm check. Asa was 48, Aiden 133. I gave Asa 24g of peanut butter
crackers. We rechecked at 8:20, just
prior to 8:30 bedtime. Asa had
catapulted up to a whoppin’ 61!
Typically, the kitchen is closed after dinner, especially
after I’ve cleaned. Not tonight. What
would you like from the Diner? Juice Box
for 15g. Since Daddy was gone taking the
big boys to a dumb scary movie, I decided to read. Asa is my “slow riser” so I planned to check
again in an hour or so.
While reading an interesting book about a killer night shift
nurse (oh, the irony), I started feeling pretty sleepy! I decided to doze for about 30 minutes until
the man got home and we could have our nightly “adult time” (Kids in bed, adults can watch TV and
converse. It’s a neat concept). I guess Diabetes was lurking in the corner,
because no sooner than my eyes started to close than Aiden came down stairs at
9:10 pm stating he “felt low”. He should’ve
been asleep 30 minutes ago. Of course, he was 51. This waitress re-opened the diner and served
up 15g of Chocolate Milk.
The man got home about 9:45.
After verbal descriptions and bodily demonstrations of how the movie
scared Kyle, I sent him to recheck the boys.
They were low normal. 81 and 100.
We decided to go ahead and watch TV for an hour despite my overwhelming
fatigue. Partly, it was because I savor
my time with him, and partly, because I know it would do me no good to try to
go to sleep with sugars that low. I’d
lay there and think about it instead. Even
when Daddy has it all under control, I have to know and can’t rest.
After an hour or so of TV, I crept upstairs with my
spelunker lamp on my head. My knees creaked
with each and every step…all 16 of them.
Sugars were at a lovely 48 and 69. Back downstairs. I thought the kitchen was closed for the night,
but I had to open the diner…again…for these special circumstances. Repeat the same 16 stairs with the same loud
knees to deliver 15g of Chocolate Milk each.
Tired. Still tired. Still have to
wait to make sure sugars are good enough to sleep through the night. Can I please catch a wink…or a breath,
Diabetes? I’ll tell you whatever it is
you’re wanting to hear!
We watched one more show.
Recheck at midnight. 102 and
104. I decided to retire….finally…at
that point. I set the alarm for 2:30 am
so I could assure they weren’t tanking just before the “dawn phenomenon”. Well, 102 and 104 after lows just isn’t quite
comfy enough for my good taste. So, I
lie awake. I think of this blog. Under
the covers. Out of the covers. Change positions. Watch the clock. Finally, I just get up. May as well since I just can’t sleep, despite
overwhelming fatigue. I can’t sleep
unless I know my babies are safe. (The man is sleeping soundly knowing I have this all under control; he has to work in the morning while I have the option of sleeping if need be. When I work, he has to do this with no backup. He rocks like that!).
At 0100, I listen to my knees pop and creak up 16 steps
again. This time, I sneak a prick on two little toes since they were sticking out;
they don’t like it, but they never know unless I tell them. It gives their over-used fingers one small
break. 86 and 107. One stable, one
declining. Back down to the diner to
serve a bit more juice. Creak, creak,
creak, creak….
(Really, I should have
fabulous thighs for all of this home Stairmaster exercise I’m getting, but
nope.)
Now, I’m wondering what I did to piss Diabetes off. Did I bad-mouth your mother? Did I flirt with
your wife? Did I not pay enough
attention to you? (I disagree as we had to do two site changes only to have a PDM error 2
hours later which necessitated a call to Omnipod and another site change. I mean, who cares, insulin is cheap, right?) I didn’t lose my temper today (despite the PDM
error). I did everything I was supposed
to do. But, Diabetes doesn’t care. He heard I was tired and needed sleep. He’s just contrary like that.
So, the house is sound asleep, and I am awake to make sure
my baby boys will wake up in the morning.
Worst case scenario, I’m up all night, then I sleep while they’re at
school tomorrow. Then, I hope that
tomorrow’s substitute nurse doesn’t need to call me, yet, I hope she does call
me if she has any questions about my boys’ care.
This is a perfect night where a Continuous Glucose Monitor
(CGM) would be a great tool so I could rest with the comfort of being alerted
for plummeting sugars. But, I can’t bear
the thought of jabbing my sons with any more sharp instruments. I can’t fathom the idea of them having to
wear ANOTHER device on their growing bodies.
And, I don’t think their sensitive skin would tolerate any more adhesive
than it already is forced to cope with.
Having to run this all-night diner is a prime example of why
I’ve had to give up other things.
Nothing is more important than my kids, so something had to give. My gym plans fall when sleep takes precedent.
My house isn’t as clean as I’d like it because I’m simply worn out some days. My
dogs need to go to the groomer. I need a haircut. I can’t apply for a job that fits my
post-graduate education because I have to stay home and be a pancreas, because
nobody knows our boys or serves as a pancreas better for our boys than we
do. I’m their Mommy first. Being a pancreas (and waitress) is
exhausting.
It’s 1:30 now. I’ll
listen to 32 more knee creaks as I recheck Mr. 86. Then, I’ll try to sleep until 0545. If not, I’m up. I’m up until because that’s what Mommies and
pancreases do.
And think about it.
Really. Seven broken hours of
sleep in the last 48 hours is enough, right?
Rhonda
