Why I should not be living in Texas

When your kid with type 1 gets invited to a party at a splash pad in 105 degree heat... this is what happens.  Yes, it came down... but it took a pod change and shot to do that.  The pod we had just changed the night before was rendered useless.

Go home, Texas Summer... you suck.  I don't want to play with you anymore.

The not-so-friendly way to say hello



as I've previously mentioned, pay no attention to the date... not sure how or why it's so far off the actual date

I was just remarking to Fred a little while ago how we are a few weeks shy of 4 years of dealing with diabetes, and we have yet to see the infamous "HI" or "LO" mocking us from Elise's meter.

Rather, we HAD. You know where this is going, right?

Due to equal parts pump failure and insulin spoilage, we saw the suckastic "HI" during our trip to SF. We were at a back-to-school party that was being put on by our friend's church. There was food, crafts, games and one very unhappy little girl who had to endure a shot (that was useless due to the insulin being bad) and a pump change (that was almost useless because it hadn't donned on her exhausted Mom that the insulin might be bad and she almost filled up the new pump with the bad insulin. Which would have led to the third pump change in as many days. Thanks to super Dad Fred for catching it).

The whole mess caused me to sit in a corner after the pump change and have my very own pity party, complete with tears.  The entire day had been a battle; we had mid-300s in the morning, followed by a scary 34 right after lunch, and then numbers that refused to be touched until after the pump change.

My friend sat with me as I cried it out and commented on how exhausting it must be for us dealing with the roller coaster of numbers (she had been with us most of the day and saw how quickly and terribly the 34 had hit Elise). But I was more crying for my daughter, and how worn out she must have felt. And how THIS. IS. HER. LIFE.

I think instead of saying "HI", meters should instead say something more apropos... Like FUBAR.

Yeah, it's not very nice, but neither is a word that masquerades as a friendly greeting.

Still Crazy after all these years

So.  My last post alluded to something dramatic happening to Elise and I over the past week.  Yeah... about that...

It all started Friday night/Saturday morning.  If you are a veteran parent, you know that this is the time when all children get sick.  In the wee hours of the morning heading into a weekend.

Elise woke us up complaining of a tummy ache and a sore throat.  Wunderbar.  Her BG was high and ketones starting to creep up.  by 8:00 am, she was 359 and 2.4.  With a temp of almost 103.

She wanted no breakfast, so I gave her water and put her in the car to drive to the doc, who is open starting at 9:00 am on Saturdays.  My plan was to drive there and call from the parking lot so we'd be the first ones seen.  On the way into the office, Elise threw up several times.

Did I mention that it was Fred's birthday weekend, and his parents had just flown in to visit?  Because it was.  And they had.

Fred's mom came with me and the dx was strep.  The doc offered us the option of a shot instead of the 10 day course of antibiotics.  Elise was cool with it, so that's what we did.  We had to sit and wait afterwards for 15 minutes to make sure she didn't have a reaction.

Throughout our time at the doc, I checked her BG several times, bolused (when necessary), and set temp basals.  I started to see an improvement in her numbers, but had no idea what her ketones were because I had used my last strip before I left the house and forgot to replenish.  This comes into play later in the story.

After the 15 minutes, we headed out to the car.  Elise was strapped in and as I was driving towards the highway, Elise started to scream that her neck hurt and she was breathing really strangely.  Trying not to crash the car, we headed back to the office where they put her on an oxygen/pulse monitor.  The doc came in and checked her over and couldn't see anything wrong.  Elise kept whimpering that her neck (not throat) hurt.  Her BG at this point was in the low 200s.

The doc left us for about 15 minutes and came back to check again.  She was about to let us go when Elise's pulse shot way up and she started to shake and scream that her tummy hurt.  The doc was very worried about DKA, since she had large ketones to start with, and hadn't been able to keep any fluids down.  And the Mom-of-the-year left the ketone strips at home.  Go me!

She wanted to call an ambulance to take us to the Children's ER, but I was afraid it would freak Elise out even more.  Plus I had my mother-in-law with me, and I couldn't leave her there by herself.  I assured the doc I could get her to the hospital on my own.

So we jump on the highway and I start doing my best imitation of a Nascar driver with some right turns thrown in for kicks.  About 10 minutes into the 20 minute drive, Elise passes out.  Not asleep.  Out.  My mother-in-law cannot wake her, and I have no idea what Elise's BG is. To top it all off, I get lost because I came in from a different direction than I'm used to (damn these flat lands with their no landmarks!  Where are some mountains when you need them???).

I also need to mention that I am juggling calls between Laura (Nate's Mom), Fred, and the endo-on-call.  The latter one, our connection gets cut of in the middle of his instructions.  I try to reach Fred again, can't.  So I call Laura and doing  my best to reign the crazy in, I ask her for help getting to the hospital.  At this point, Fred calls, so I switch over and completely loose it.  Doing my best impression of an insane person, I start to scream at him when he asks me if I'm going north or south.  Why was I screaming?  Because I could have been headed east for all I knew... freaking metroplex and their confounding highway system.

Dontcha wish you were on my speed dial?  I'm a peach, I tell ya...

Anyway, we finally find the hospital, get Elise in and get her IV fluids.  A blood draw shows her ketones are down and her BG is 128.  They have no explanation for the shaking, stomach pain or passing out, but I am just thankful that Elise is perking up.  By 2:30 pm, we were given the all clear to go home.  Elise says, (and I quote) "this was the most funnest day ever!"  Wha???

During my ride from hell to the hospital, I drove 90 mph (highway only), ran a few red lights and made some illegal u-turns.  I was praying I would get stopped by a cop, so he could show me the way to the hospital.

The moral of this story?  Don't forget your freaking ketones strips at home.  The end.

Tru dat

Last Saturday (a week ago) was one of our worst days on the pump yet. We went to an Omnipod party and Elise's BGs were inexplicably in the 500s all afternoon. No amount of correcting would bring her down. We changed her pod twice that day and had to give her a shot to correct her.

It was one of the worst diabetes days in a long, long time. We got home late that night, and put the kids to bed. It dawned on me that amidst dealing with all the BG craziness, I never even ate dinner. Fred, being the awesome husband he is, went out to get me some chinese food.

I sat down for what seemed like the first time all day, cried, and then ate my food. At the end of my meal, I cracked open my fortune cookie and was greeted by this decree of discernment:


Apparently, the cookie is trying to tell me something.

The tri-fecta

We've had bad sleep nights here before. That's certainly nothing new. Whether it's because of Mattias wanting to party in the wee hours of the morning, or due to BG issues or night terrors with Elise. Yup, been there, done that... got the dark circles under my eyes to prove it.

But never before have we had such a piss-poor night because of ALL THREE.

I went to bed around midnight, took my usual hour to fall asleep; and just as I was teetering on the edge, Mattias woke up to be fed. Okay, no problem.

Except that he pretty much refused to go back to sleep.

And then Elise's BG went low. And then she started crying about bumble bees in her room. Mattias was ticked off that nobody was paying attention to him. More BG issues. Dexcom beeping. More crying. Curses uttered. A failed attempt to nurse Mattias again, hoping he'd fall asleep. Screaming. Beeping. Cursing. More lows.... you get the idea.

It seemed once we'd get one problem with one kid settled, the other would need attention. And so it went. All. Night. Long. Unlike the Lionel Ritchie song, we were not raisin' the roof, nor having fun.

I think I finally got to sleep around 5:30 am. Poor Fred had a flight at 6:30 am. He left the house at 5:48, and STILL made the flight. That, my friends, is impressive.

I awoke, 2 1/2 hours later, and catapulted myself out of bed, because I realized that Elise had to be at school in 1 hour. I can't believe I actually got her there without spontaneously combusting.

So, here I sit. Sleep deprived. Tired. Alone for the next few days. Stressed. I've already had my first marshmellow/caramel chocolate egg of the day.

Something tells me it won't be the last.

My Mama told me there'll be days like this

Okay, I know that Thursday is no D-Day, and that it's Thursday somewhere in this wide world of ours... but it's sure as hell not Thursday here yet, so I'm going to post about my craptacular day.

Really it's Tuesday's fault. Why? Because Tuesday was the first day I was left alone to care for two kids plus diabetes. And Tuesday went so well that I thought I was the most amazing person in the world. Seriously, I couldn't have choreographed a better day... great numbers, the D-monster behaved, Mattias slept like a dream, dinner was all set to go by 10:00 am, Elise was well-behaved and the best helper I could ask for. It was all so beautiful.

Then I went to bed and the sun came up and lo and behold Wednesday was upon us. And everything that could go wrong, did. Mattias wouldn't sleep, in fact all he did was scream. And he peed through a diaper all over my clothes. And screamed the entire time I was in the shower, cleansing myself of the urine. Elise's attitude was as bad as the summer heat in Texas. I think all I ate today before dinner was a piece of toast. And let's not forget how I sliced open my toe tripping over a chair.

Elise's BG was on a roller coaster ride the entire day. After her morning snack, Eileen got in on the act and showed me a 96 with double arrows down. The meter showed 81. After 5g more and 15 minutes later, Elise was 72 on her meter and Eileen said 80 with double arrows down (this is also after a 15g snack). Mattias was in his bassinet, screaming to be fed. But I couldn't leave Elise until I got her BG up. It was awful... my heart was being ripped in two listening to Mattias cry.

All I wanted to do is sit down and cry, but there wasn't even time for that. Tonight we went up to our church for dinner and all it took was one friend asking me how I was doing for the water works to start. And they've been off and on all night. Even poor Jessica had to listen to me blubber.

I know... there will be good days and bad days, but this one just took all the wind out of my sails. Perhaps it was just the let down from my triumphant Tuesday, I don't know... but I just feel like I've been knocked down and I don't even want to get back up.

But I have to. Because D doesn't take a day off, and so neither will I.

D is for...

Done.

As in I'm done.

Done, done, done with diabetes. Done with trying to come up with foods that Elise will actually eat. Done with mealtime battles that usually end with both of us in tears. Done with trying to put together healthy, good-tasting meals and done with carb counting.

I'm so done with trying to figure out numbers that are all over the map. Done with tantrums that are due to high BG numbers and done with naps being interrupted by lows.

I am done with hauling all the crap that goes along with this disease. Done with meters, scales, calculators, apple juice, carefully counted out snacks that she won't eat, emergency supplies, insulin, needles... all of it. Done.

I'm done with every illness wreaking havoc in our lives. Done with worrying about her "underlying condition". Done with calling doctors and specialists and wondering just when should I take her to the ER.

I am done with all the money that this stinking disease bleeds out of us. It seriously makes me sick to my stomach when I think of how much all the supplies cost just to keep my daughter alive. Yes, it's a small price to pay, but it also infuriates me and makes me wonder why they do cost so much. Could it be because we don't have much of a choice?

And I am so, so, so very done with stupid insurance companies squeezing every nickel and dime out of us. Done with their crappy policies that say catheterizing my daughter to get a urine sample because she's too young to pee in a cup during her doctor visit is considered a "surgical procedure" and we have to pay for part of it. This never was an issue with our old insurance company, but Blue Crap Blue Shield of Texas is showing me why moving back to Canada is a good idea.

Seriously, I think my head is going to explode.

Of course, I say I am done... but it's a total lie. I can't be done. I will never be done. And that's what makes all this so terribly frustrating.

Et tu, Tuesday?

You know those infomercials where the announcer says, "but wait... there's more?" That's what I feel like my life has been like the last four days. Just when I think it can't get any worse, it goes ahead and does. But at least I can laugh about it.

It started this morning when Elise woke up with a BG of 252 and ketones at 1.6. Grrrrr. This is after we put her to bed at 186, she dropped to 81 about 2 hours later and hovered around there until 3:00 am when she finally went above 150 (our "safe" night time number). She had no carbs in her bedtime snack, so I can't figure out what the deal is there.

Anyway, I was still feeling horrible and we had to stay home from story time at the library, which Elise LOVES. Boo. I noticed her rash had come back, so I finally decided to call her pedi and make an appointment.

After the poor nurse listened to me prattle on for about 5 minutes (and I'm surprised she could actually understand me since I have almost no voice left), she let me know that Elise's pedi is away for two weeks in Africa doing mission work. WHAT? How dare she feel God's calling to a third world nation to serve others while I NEED HER HERE???

Okay, I'm totally joking. I did not know Elise's pedi did mission work, but it makes me love her even more... if that's at all possible.

Anyway, I made an appointment for the afternoon and the rest of our day was pretty uneventful save for the semi-low BG number of 71 that Elise woke up from her nap with (unfortunately, another 45 minute nap).

The fun all began when I went to leave the doctor's office. It was about 4:15, and as I was headed towards the freeway, my car started acting up. I was freaked out because we had just taken it in for service and the guy had some issues with it.

What you need to know for this story is that our gas gauge doesn't work. It always reads empty. Our car is 10 years old and paid for, and we will drive it until it goes to car heaven. We've never fixed the problem because they wanted $300 for the repair. As long as we know how many kilometers (we brought the car from Canada) we've driven since our last fill-up, we know when we need to fill up again.

I barely managed to drive it into a grocery store parking lot before it stalled out entirely. I didn't think we were out of gas because I still had about 75 kilometers to go before I needed to fill up. I checked my clock and started to panic. It was almost 4:30 and I needed to get Elise home for her insulin and dinner. I was also sitting in a black car in 105 degree Texas heat.

About 100 feet away I saw an answer to my prayer. A fire truck was sitting there with one of the firemen still in it (the rest were grocery shopping - am I the only one that gets tickled watching firemen grocery shop?). I took Elise out of the car and walked over. The very sweet guy said he'd help push the car into the gas station (that I missed getting to by about 75 feet), but he had to wait for his other firemen buddies to help. I explained my situation and that Elise had diabetes and he said that if she was going low, he had glucose tabs in the truck. He then invited us to sit in the nice air conditioned fire truck... Elise loved it!

Another answered prayer was that my husband was driving back from a meeting and was only 5 minutes away. He was going to switch cars with me, so I could get Elise home. I was worried about her dropping low again, so when my husband arrived we tried to check her BG, only the meter was acting all funky. And of course I had taken the back-up meter out to replenish the test strips and forgot to put it back in Elise's diaper bag. After messing with it for about 5 minutes we got it to work and she came in at 112.

The other firemen arrived and helped my husband get the car to the gas station, and at this point I book it home with Elise screaming most of the way home because we are in Poppa's car, but Poppa isn't with us. The only way I can convince her to stop is by singing "Wheels on the Bus" over and over and over. It was a 20 minute drive home. And did I mention that I have no voice?

The good news is, I'm laughing about it. Just another crazy adventure that I get to bore my blog readers with. It could have turned out a lot worse, but I really feel like God was watching out for me. My car made it into a parking lot and didn't stall out in the middle of the busy road. The wonderful, WONDERFUL guys from the Irving Fire Department that helped get the car to the gas station and kept Elise and I cool in the meantime. My husband being so close by just when I needed him. These are all signs that God knows what I'm going through and He's right there with me. Pretty cool, eh?

Oh by the way... I was out of gas. Apparently super hot weather make gas evaporate faster. Who knew?

Joanne's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad... weekend

Oh man, if I could go back and erase the last two days, I would. I cannot remember being that miserable in a long time.

It started Saturday morning when I woke up feeling sick. Sore throat, headache and a wee bit nauseous. I wrote it off as just being tired and tried to get on with my day.

After lunch, we had a battle royal with Elise about nap time. Seriously, the girl screamed for over an hour before she finally went to sleep. I usually don't like letting her get that upset (for fear of what it will do to her blood sugar), but I'm starting to see hints of a strong-willed child, and I feel like I need to put my foot down. She's tired, all the signs are there, she just doesn't want to miss anything. She awoke, screaming of course, after only 45 minutes.

After she got up, we had to go grocery shopping. We had Elise in one of those carts with the car on the front, and about halfway through, we noticed her face was getting puffy and red. She also had a rash on her arm with what looked like a white bite-mark in the middle. We got her out of the cart and it cleared up. So weird. We always use those carts and have never had a problem. Fred told me the reason he picked that particular cart is because it looked brand new.

Throughout the day we were battling high BG numbers with ketones on and off. She woke up with them, then they were gone at lunch, only to reappear at bedtime. We hung out with some friends that night who had invited us over to come see the owl and her owlets in their backyard. Elise loves owls, so we thought she'd love it... and she did, except she was soooooo cranky the whole time.

When I went to bed that night, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I had a fever, chills, muscle aches and my throat was on fire. I downed two Tylenol PMs, and tossed and turned until I fell asleep.

Sunday morning Elise started crying at around 4:00 am, so Fred went in to check her BG. High 200s with 0.7 ketones. She settled down, but when she woke up a few hours later, her BG was still high and ketones were now 2.0. We called the endo, spoke to the on-call doc and felt reassured that what we were doing was right.

After lunch, Fred had to drive some neighbours to the airport, and as soon as he left, Elise went crazy. She's been having this separation anxiety from him lately. If he even leaves the room, she gets so upset. I think it was made worse this weekend because she wasn't feeling well. I tried to settle her down and put her down for a nap, but she went ballistic! It was awful listening to her scream like that. After about 45 minutes, she finally slept... for 30 minutes.

When she woke up, we let her play for a bit, and at some point we noticed she had the same rash as yesterday, but now it was all over her body. It looked so bad, but it didn't seem to bother her. Thankfully, we have a friend who is a PA that lives nearby, so he told Fred to bring her over. He said it looked like an allergic reaction to something, and gave us some soap to bathe her with and told us to use Benadryl cream on the rash. It did the trick and the rash started looking better almost right away.

All this drama caused us to miss church, which wasn't a huge deal since the last two times we've been, Elise has gotten so upset in the nursery, we've had to leave service to get her.

I woke up this morning feeling worse than ever (seriously, the last time I felt this bad is when I had strep throat). I managed to get in to see my doc, but the only appointment time they have is when my husband is in a meeting. So I have to drag Elise with me to a germ-infested doctor's office. Yay.

So let's see; we're battling high BG numbers, ketones, rashes, illness, separation anxiety, sleep issues and just plain bad attitudes (mine included).

If you stayed with me this long, either you are extremely patient or a sucker for punishment. Either way, thanks. I needed to get that off my chest. To make matters extra-specially worse, Fred is going to NYC on Wednesday until Friday.

Life sure stinks sometimes.

I'm glad this day is over

In bed at 8:30, ketones finally gone, BG is 143... that's much better.

Then again we had almost the exact same scenario last night (except BG was 154), and look where she woke up this morning (BG - 252, ketones - 2.6).

We'll see...

Sucker punched by D

Just when I think I'm doing the diabetes thing pretty well, it turns around and kicks me in the teeth. I've heard other parents talk about this before, and have even experienced it to a degree, but nothing, NOTHING scared me like today did.

Elise and I were out for a walk after her afternoon snack. She woke up with a BG of 130, which is pretty good. I gave her 6g of carbs, which is enough to hold her until dinner time. About a third of the way around the neighbourhood, Elise asked to be picked up (I had been carrying her off and on throughout the walk). When I did, I noticed she was a bit... er, floppy, for lack of a better word. Her head seemed to be lolling all over the place and she was whimpering.

Let me say something here. I always, ALWAYS, bring my emergency bag with a meter, glucagon, apple juice and my cell phone. Today, I didn't. Lesson learned. I was about 15 houses away from my own, so I started to run with her in my arms. NO easy task with a 24 pound toddler in your arms, and walking a crazy 42 pound dog.

I get her home and check her BG. Yikes, 47! I cut up and weigh about 8g (of carbs) of banana. History has shown me that it will be more than enough to get her BG up. The reason we use banana is because she has never really liked juice and the few times we've tried; she's refused it. Plus banana ALWAYS does the trick (I'm sensing some sort of pattern with the always here...).

When she finished the banana, she starts screaming like I have never heard her before. Not when they put the IV in her arm in the ER a few weeks ago. Not when she fell 1/3 of the way down our stairs. The noise the was coming out of her will haunt me... I never want to hear it again. She was absolutely wailing. I checked her BG 15 minutes later... 52. I had to put her down to get her some more banana, and she started walking away, looking like she was drunk. I gave her 7g more for the total 15g, and when I tested her 15 minutes after that... 57. What the *insert expletive* is going on here? All the other lows she's had, we never have a problem getting her BG up.

Since my experience with this situation is limited, I decided to call the endo, because I am absolutely panicking. It's now dinner time, and I can't get her BG up, and she is still screaming like she is dying (has anyone else with small kids with D heard this cry? I get shivers every time I think about it). In the meantime, I decided to try the juice, which to my shock, she drinks!

The endo helps calm me down, and when I re-check, Elise is now at 150. But she is still wailing away. The endo told me that it sometimes takes awhile for the brain to feel the effect of the sugar, and that's probably why she was still crying, even though she was in range.

Since she got 30g of carbs during this experience, I expected her BG to rebound high at bedtime, but it wasn't too bad at 298.

This may sound like no big deal to people, but it was a hard, scary thing for me to deal with... especially by myself. I think if my husband was around at the time, it wouldn't have been so hard. I hope I never have to hear that cry again.

Finding the sweet in the sorrow

It's 4:30 in the morning. Elise woke up crying; not the out-and-out screaming like she does when her BG is low, but my gut told me I needed to get up and check her. She's at 74, an obnoxious number. It's close to being okay, but with 3 1/2 hours to go until wake-up time, it's not a number I'm comfortable leaving her at. Plus I have no idea if her BG is in the process of going up or down.

So I pick her up and take her downstairs with me. It's a drill we've done a few times before because as soon as I walk into the kitchen, she starts squealing, "Na-na? Na-na! Na-na!" Elise-speak for banana. I hold her and try to chop up the banana, fretting over how much to give her. I don't want to overshoot and have her sky high when she wakes up, but I want to make sure it's enough to get her BG to a safer number.

Evidently, I am weighing the banana and doing my calculations much too slow because Elise starts to scream and grabs the banana before I can cut it up into bite-sized pieces for her. I had settled on 6g of carbs, but she cries and demands more. At this point she starts shaking, so I worry that her BG is crashing and I end up giving her the rest, 10g of carbs in all.

Back upstairs, with a wailing Elise in my arms. She is tired and she doesn't feel good. I sit in the rocking chair in her room and silently count the seconds as I rock. We are enveloped in a cocoon of darkness. Elise lays with her head on my shoulder, her cheeks wet with tears. Sobs turn into whimpers, whimpers into shuddery breaths, and then nothing. The squeak of the chair is the only noise in our world right now. I sit and I rock.

When I'm sure the 15 minutes have passed, I check her BG once more. It's 160, a good safe number. My work here is done, time for me to place her in her crib and steal softly back to my room. But I don't. Instead I sit and I rock.

Her warm breath tickles my arm and I breath in her soothing scent of lavender. Her hair is soft and silky against my cheek. I listen to her breathing and hug her closer. I ask God to protect her. To hold her in His hands the rest of the night and for all her nights to come. I ask for wisdom in taking care of her, patience and endurance. More than anything, I ask Him to help me when I am weak. I pray as I sit and I rock.

I know I should be going back to bed. I am tired and daylight is coming soon. But instead I hold her, kiss her head and pray for her. She feels good in my arms and so few are the moments like these, so I sit. And I rock.

But it's a big deal to me

We just got back from a visit to Elise's kidney doc. It was a follow up to an appointment from about six months ago, before her dx. Elise had been getting UTI after UTI, and her pedi was worried that there could be a problem with her kidneys. The funny thing is, a few moms on the Diabetes board that I go to said their kids went through the same thing leading up to being dx with Diabetes. Interesting...

Anyway, we did a renal ultrasound on Monday, and thought the doc would give us an "everything looks fine" report and we could go home, never to return. It's never that simple though.

The doc started talking about how D can damage the kidneys, not right away, but over many years. I knew this, but thought that if we maintained good BG levels, there wasn't a problem. I'll spare you all the details, but the end result is that Elise will have to be on a medication to prevent kidney damage for the rest of her life.

I think to myself, "that's such a small thing compared to everything we've been through." And it is. But it's one more thing. It's one more burden added to our list, something else to worry about, one more thing to remember, more side effects to fret over, another medication to buy.

Go away D, why can't you just leave us alone?

It Changes Everything.

Sometimes D sneaks up on you, like a sucker punch to the solar-plexus. Everything can be going great; wonderful numbers, no food issues... everything's coming up roses as the song goes. But D is always out there, waiting to take your feet out from underneath you, lest you get a bit too cocky.

For me it happened a few days ago. I tookElise to attend a birthday party for a little friend of hers, a first for her. D wasn't really on my mind, I thought we'd go, Elise would play, have some fun, and we'd go home.

But it wasn't like that at all. Oh, it was at first, but I had forgotten about the food. Because of the timing of the party, Elise wouldn't be eating. I was going to feed her lunch when we got home after the party. But I didn't take into account that I had to watch all the other kids scarf down their pizza, while Elise wandered around eating string cheese.

It killed me, I felt like my heart was being Texas Two-Stepped on. Elise didn't care, she was quite content with her cheese. But what kept reverberating in my brain was, "this is how it's going to be for her, always the outsider. Always different." I hate that I think that, and I know I need to stop thinking of her that way.

I thought maybe she could have some strawberries from the fruit salad, so I checked her BG. She was almost at 400 and that's when the tears started to well up in my eyes. I took Elise and went around the corner, so nobody could see me. I distracted Elise by showing her the fish tank and had myself a good cry for about 5 minutes. I don't know who I was crying more for, me or her.

I returned to the party in time for the cake to be brought out. All the kids cheered when they saw it, and Elise started clapping too. Not because she understood what was going on, she just likes to join in the fun. I almost lost it again watching the kids dive into the sugary-goodness.

I know one day Elise will be able to take part in birthday fun, but for now because of the type of insulin she's on, and because she's so little, it doesn't fit into her food plan. Every time I run into one of these situations, it's like she's been diagnosed all over again. Pain that I had forgotten about rips into my heart and tears threaten to fall seemingly every second.

But, in the end, you do go on. The wound scabs over, and you almost forget about it until the next time D opens it up. It is getting a little easier, I don't cry as often or for as long. And that's what I need to remember... bit by bit, I'm getting there.

Days like these... a follow up

So after I wrote the post below, I had pretty much resigned myself to getting a bit of sleep while waking up every two hours to get Elise's BG. That actually would have been preferable to what REALLY happened.

I finally crawled into bed around midnight, and had turned off the light, when about 15 minutes later Elise started to scream. Not just crying, it was a terrifying I'm-about-to-explode scream. So I rushed into her room, afraid she had thrown up again. She hadn't, but was standing at the end of her crib, arms raised and wanting to be picked up. I calmed her down, rocked her and put her back to bed. I went back to my room, 10 minutes pass and the screaming begins anew.

I go back in, check her BG (it's fine), lay her back down, and stay with her until she's actually asleep. I leave, get back into bed, and start to drift off. At about 1:00 am, she starts screaming again (before I had totally gone to sleep), and startled me so much that I knocked my water cup that's sitting on my nightstand over (it's the huge one you get when you're in the hospital), and spill water all over my magazines, books, TV remote and other items that are piled there. It also runs down the wall, into the electrical socket and forms a huge puddle on the floor. Meanwhile, Elise is still screaming.

I check her BG again (this time it's a bit high, probably from all the crying), so I checked for ketones (negative), took her temp (100.3), and get her calmed and asleep again. This goes on until 2:00 am and I am at my wits end. Because Elise seemed to be in pain (she was writhing in my arms every time I picked her up), and because I didn't know what else to do, I gave her some baby Tylenol. That kicked in at about 2:30, and she finally fell asleep.

I went back to my room, cleaned up the water and quite literally crawled into bed. It took me about 30 minutes to fall asleep. Elise again woke at 5:30, crying. I was able to calm her down and she fell asleep until 7:00, a full hour earlier than usual.

This was tough to handle anyway, but when you add D to the equation, it's downright miserable. I had pretty much ruled out that it was D related, but what if I had missed something? There seemed to be no reason for Elise to be crying (yes, I checked her gums - no teeth coming in), except that maybe her stomach was still upset from getting sick.

The good news? I discovered I can still function on only 2 and 1/2 hours sleep. Go me!

Days like these...

I was all prepared to do a cool little post about what to feed a baby with diabetes (tips, ideas, maybe a recipe or two), when stupid diabetes decided to kick me in the butt (for a change).

Basically, Elise threw up after I put her to bed. On everything. Her sheets, herself, her blankie and her stuffed dog. It's a good thing I have duplicates of the last two items. She was high when I put her to bed (379), but when I checked her a few hours later she had dropped to 229. Methinks that's too quick of a drop. So it looks like I'm on checking-every-two-hours-through-the-night duty (or until it looks like her numbers have stabilized). Who needs sleep, anyway?

Oh, and did I mention that Fred left for New York this afternoon? It figures...