Diaversary #2 February 20, 2014
After a pod failure on Tuesday….or failure to report his pod came off (thus delivering zero insulin into his body, lots into his backpack!), we had a crazy high…435. I gave Mr. Aiden a shot to bring his sugar back under control, and I put a new pod on. Two hours later, he was about 225. Coming down, but I also anticipated a late post-Doritos-and-taco-salad high (yes, that’s a real phenomenon), so I gave him a small amount of additional insulin and went to bed.
I lay in bed pondering the meaning of life and going through the Diabetes equation in my head.
(Current Glucose Level + Carbs on Board+ Insulin on Board divided by fat and protein content of latest meal multiplied by the day’s activity level and age and site of pod subtracted from the color of his underwear squared. Divide that result by the phase of the moon…and presto)!!!
This happens every night….at the end, the result is what time I need to wake up to check them again. The result varies. Tuesday night, the result was 2 a.m on Wednesday morning. Alarm set.
At 0200, I awoke to discover that I was well-advised to wake up at 2 a.m. Asa was near perfect at 112, Aiden was 51. So, he got to sleep-drink a juice box. I lay down for 20 minutes and rechecked. 39. WRONG direction. So, he was privileged enough to sleep-drink about 20g worth of Carbohydrates in the form of Chocolate Milk. Twenty minutes later, at almost 3 a.m., he scored a perfect 100. Now, and only now, am I allowed to go back to sleep.
Except. I can’t. I’m awake enough now that sleep evades me. I think out my upcoming trip; all the things I need to do before the trip to make sure my guys are ok without me; what I need to do today; stresses in my life; what’s right in my life (including the sexy warm man next to me)…and Good God…what may have happened has I not woken up at 2 a.m. He skated in at 0600 on Wednesday morning with a respectable 112! Perfect ending to year number 2.
Two years ago today, Diabetes officially invaded our lives. I can recall vividly the fear, helplessness, pain of that day. It still makes me cry. Although it’s routine, no two days are the same. … it’s sort of like my job in Labor & Delivery. Most days are fine; some days are great; some days just plain SUCK! I’ve learned a tremendous amount over the past two years, and I know I’m light years away from knowing nearly enough.
But here’s what I do know:
My baby is alive. He is growing and thriving. He is smart, passionate, and funny...the spitting image of his father! His behavioral problems, stomach pain, visual disturbances and dehydration have been replaced by finger-sticks, insulin, pumps, appointments, and shots. I know as long as we do our best, he can live an imperfectly ‘normal’ life. I know one false move on my part could cost him his life. That, my friends, is humbling and explains the newly sprouted (but recently covered) gray hairs.
Today, we celebrate his life. We celebrate how brave and strong my Aiden is. We celebrate that although the diagnosis sucks, it wasn’t worse. I get to keep a modified version of my perfect baby!
Now, we learn and grow with him. We Walk to Cure Diabetes every year. I’ve written a book describing the emotional journey of the first year of diagnosis….times two
Mommy Can't Fix It
Mommy Can't Fix It
One can watch and support our journey on my new Facebook page at www.facebook.com/FuseA2Team. (Two Too Sweet). Besides the day to day medical care and parenting combined, it’s what I can do.
I’ve battled the mourning and negative thoughts all day. I’ve staved off tears at least three times. Some good Bon Jovi infusions have helped with that. But, now, he’s home..and we celebrate!