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!
Pancreas out,
Rhonda
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