This is what I need to find some better answers to. And our
walkie talkies died so I was awoken at 1-something-am with Blaine yelling “Mom!
Mom! I don’t feel good!” His numbers were fine. I think it’s just us being
horribly off-schedule this summer. He was still up, but reading a book at 1:00
am. I told him that he was just over-tired and to go to sleep. Once he saw that
he was 170 he fell asleep. I know he’s holding on to some anxiety about
dropping low while he sleeps.
I thought we were doing pretty well this morning. I woke him
up by 9:30 am in attempts to find some kind of schedule. His numbers were good.
We did his insulin immediately with breakfast. Then we went to run some errands
before picking up Aislin from a sleep-over and then meeting my friends for
lunch.
As soon as we got into the car Blaine said he was thirsty. Polydipsia. The word comes to mind every
time. I was feeling confident with the amount of insulin that we did and it was
too close to the dosing and breakfast to get an accurate BG check, in my
opinion. We picked up Aislin and they immediately began bickering. We have
quickly learned that Blaine has various levels of high.
When he is slightly high, he talks nonstop, he says silly
words and can be sometimes funny, sometimes annoying. When he is too high he
has zero tolerance for his sister and becomes very moody, very quickly. Coping
skills vanish and he is irritable. We decided to check before going in to meet
Jackie and Robyn for lunch. He was 299. What!?
Aislin asked Baline what happens when he is too high. He
told her that he gets headaches and doesn’t feel good. She again asked the same
question, getting frustrated from her lack of sleep from the sleep over. Blaine
tried to clarify the question. She yelled her question louder, with no
clarification, just amplified volume. I tried to clarify. She got angry and
yelled that she didn’t care. Blaine, equally angry, and high at this point
finally yelled back to her, “If I’m too high I will die. Okay? There, I will
die if I stay too high. Does that answer your question?”
Truly not a conversation I ever anticipated my children
having.
Throughout this exchange I felt my blood pressure rise. Was
it anger, frustration, confusion, defeat? Probably all of those things. What happened?
I still don’t know. Did we miscalculate breakfast? Did he not do the insulin correctly?
He does the majority of his injections, although I supervise and usually prep
the kwik pen. Did it all not go in? It’s just frustrating. On top of that we
were trying out a new pizza place. While waiting in line, he did a correcting
dose and we guessed at the needed insulin for his food. Who cares if the people around us don’t want
to see my son inject a needle into his stomach? I don’t want him to have to
inject a needle into his stomach, or arm, or leg. For the first month we were
discreet, but when Brent suggested that Blaine go into a restroom to do his
insulin while at a restaurant I drew the line.
Forget the discomfort of others, not that I’m insensitive. I
just care about my son, his comfort and his needs more than the comfort of
those around me. Even if they have needle phobias. I don’t mind when women
breast feed in public, even if it is a walking, talking toddler that they are
feeding. Others can get over my son doing injections in public. I will not have
him going into a nasty restroom to give himself the insulin that his pancreas
is failing to do.
We checked two hours later and he was in range. Good thing.
But then, just before dinner, with no snacks or food in between the last BG
check he was slightly high again. His
last A1C was 7.0. I’m already stressed that his next one will be higher,
probably at least 8. I know the numbers shouldn’t control my feelings. But they
do. These numbers are now one more thing that can make me feel like a failure
as a mother.
If I let them.
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