Let's bee it up, yo!

As a parent of a kid with type 1, I've had to deal with a whole range of things that don't even enter the minds of non-d parents; whether it be at a sporting event, on an airplane, or something commonplace... eating dinner at a restaurant.  Sometimes I look around and wonder how much extra stuff I think about, and what it must be like to have all that extra space in my brain.

Case in point... The Spelling Bee.  A milestone of consonants and vowels for every elementary student, and where dreams are crushed by a single misplaced letter.

Elise recently took part in her district's regional spelling bee.  In Spanish. I love that my girl can spell in two languages, while I can barely manage one.  It's humbling, really.

The thing with spelling bees is that they have really strict rules when it comes to the audience.  You can't make it look like you're communicating in any way. So all my pantomimes for "check your BG", "eat something!", and "do you feel okay?" would not be well-received.

Since this was her second bee, I knew to talk to the head-bee lady (queen bee... hee), explain our situation, and figure out a plan.  But that doesn't make the non-stop monologue running in my head go away during the competition:

Check the CGM. Okay, 154 flat.  Not bad.  How much insulin on board?  Crap, she just dropped by 9.  Should I give her something?  How much insulin on board?  When did I bolus her for breakfast? 6:15? Hmmmm, should be about .75 left.  How many spellers before her? WHAT THE CRAP WAS THAT WORD?  What if the adrenaline kicks in?  She'll be so mad if I go up there and hand her some smarties.  And what if the other parents think I'm cheating?  I DON'T EVEN LOOK REMOTELY LIKE I SPEAK SPANISH! CGM check again.  Great, now she's 133.  How much insulin now?WHAT KIND OF LETTER IS BAY-GRANDE???  Did she spell it right? WAY TO GO! To give sugar or not to give?  Another drop, but not so bad.  Let's just wait...  

I could go on, but I feel a minuscule peak inside my head is quite enough.

You guys get it, but nobody else sees the tightrope we walk every day; every scenario can has the potential for a sucky outcome. 

Don't treat, and she goes low.  You have to interrupt the competition which makes her upset and throws her concentration (not to mention the low can make it hard for her too).

Treat, but then the adrenaline kicks in, sending her even higher.  She has trouble concentrating because her BG is now in the 300s.

Thankfully, that day I did nothing, and it looked like this:

It doesn't always work this way, but on spelling bee day, it did.  And got her a tie for 4th out of 35 kids.  And the last non-Hispanic to go out.  Pretty proud of my girl!  And I love it when she can do something and not even have to deal with diabetes getting in the way.

She's pretty A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.

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.

Carb Shark

A few months ago, at a Valentine's party at Elise's school, I helped a mom of a newly diagnosed kid in kinder count the carbs in her sundae.  A sundae laden with sprinkles, whipped cream, gummy bears, and other treats I can't remember.

One glance had me swagging for 40g. The mom practically swooned at my speed and apparent accuracy.

Or maybe I'm remembering it wrong.  Anyway, in that moment I knew what rockstars must feel like.

Her daughter was in-range the rest of the day.

Now I'm the freaking Rainman of carb counting.

Too bad it won't make me any money in Vegas.

These days

It's been awhile, hasn't it? So sorry... it's not you, it's me.

Actually, if I'm being truthful, it's life. Life is screaming by and I'm powerless to stop it.  The other day I received this email from a photo storage website:

"Joanne," it said, "Check out these memories from 6 years ago!!!" (emphasis mine).

"No." Said I. "There has been a mistake. That cannot be 6 years ago... they still look exactly like that."

And to prove my point, I peered over my phone to look at my tiny people.  

And found that I was wrong.  Also, one of my kids wasn't even born yet when those pictures were taken, so as well as getting older, it seems I'm getting dumber.

I have now been  fake pancreas-ing for almost 10 years.  Some days it feels so easy, that I could do it in my sleep (or it feels like I'm sleeping because of the sheer lack of it).

Other days I want to lie down and cry from the enormity of it all.

But mostly it just feels like life, these days. Something that's shoved in there with grocery shopping, and laundry, school and sports. It's present, but not everything, like it was so long ago.

These days, I've been asking myself where the time has gone?

When did she become so independent?  This past summer, Elise started doing her own pod changes and making and bolusing for her breakfast in the mornings.  Without any prompting, at the age of 9.

There are still days when she wants Fred or I to do it for her.  But these days, I'm not needed so much anymore.

And when I compare it to the relentless and complete dependence... I honestly don't know which I prefer.

There used to be dance, and gymnastics, and pre-school, and soccer, and all the things that scared me to death.

These days, there's still soccer, but there's also hockey, and orchestra, and choir, and acting classes and sleepovers.

These days there is technology, that I am so thankful for.  Because it makes all the things of these days easier to say yes to.

This picture makes me happy

So yeah... here I sit, in the in-between.  It's a weird place to be.  I have missed blogging, and what this blog has brought me. Hopefully there's still some of you out there. I think it's you that I've missed most of all.

Hey Jealousy

A few days ago, some friends of ours had to take their 3 year old son into the local children's hospital because of seizures.  Fred was away camping with Elise, so I kept up with their situation using his facebook.  At some point, she posted about how she was feeling jealous of everyone's "ordinary weekend".

Hey Jealousy... I remember you well.

Because it wasn't long ago that I couldn't take Elise out to eat, or be at a birthday party, or on a playdate with friends, without having to suppress a terrible rage that threatened to bubble out of me when I saw how easy it was for other people.

Jealous of toddlers that could eat whenever, wherever.

Jealous of not having to check blood sugars.

Jealous of kids who could "graze".

Jealous of Moms who could just leave the house with a purse or diaper bag.

Jealous of not having to wait due to a high BG.

Jealous of forcing my kids to take a time out to eat because of a low.

So much jealousy.

So when I saw her post, I felt a pang in my heart.  I remember yearning for "normal", and "ordinary" so badly that tears would spring to my eyes every time.

I wasn't mad at the "normals", I was sad for me and my daughter.

Then I realized that jealousy is not really a burden I carry anymore.  I will admit, when diabetes is being a jerk, a lot of those feelings come roaring back.  Especially when I'm in a group situation, and life for everyone else is just flowing along while I'm in a corner, trying to tame an ugly beast.

But in the day-to-day, diabetes is just a part of our routine; check, bolus, repeat.  With a pump change, dex change and an occasional shot.  It's a dance and we've figured out the rhythm pretty well.  But I'm curious as to when jealousy decided to slink off into the night.  Whenever it was, I'm glad he's gone.

This weekend, I've had a taste of ordinary.  Fred and Elise were away camping from Friday until Sunday, and in that time the boys and I ate our way through soccer snacks, post-game slushes, a pumpkin carving party, and plenty of eating out.  

And nary a blood sugar check or bolus was seen.

It was so extraordinarily ordinary.  So normal.

So freaking easy.

But even if it is, missing her, is so very NOT easy.  

And I'm glad she's back... blood sugars, boluses and all.

And then... Diabetes

Today has been one of those days.  Admittedly, it's only halfway over, but I am all the way done.

Today has sent one of my children into tears anytime you talk to them.  Crying because they have to sit on the toilet, eat breakfast, sit at the table, wear shoes (or anything on their feet).  Crying because they are not allowed to wear pyjamas out to run errands, the dog is in their way, and it's too hot out.

So. Much. Crying.

Today it took almost 60 minutes to leave to house.  Because of wardrobe issues, foot ware issues, having to poop/not being able to poop x 2 (kids, not me), and our dog going missing.  Turns out she was locked in the office, and hadn't run away into the back field like I thought she had.

Today was supposed to be a day of running errands to three different stores, but we only made it to two, because I might have been a little afraid that I would leave my children at the last stop... accidentally on purpose.

Today one of my children decided to wear shoes that were too small (despite being warned), and ended up with ginourmous, painful blisters on their feet. This necessitated said child having to ride on the side of the cart, which resulted in said child knocking a bunch of salad dressing bottles to the floor as we were trying to pass another cart.

Of course, because today was today... the plastic bottles broke and ranch splattered everywhere. Much like my hopes for today getting any better.  Clean up on aisle 8, please.

Today the store was out of milk.  And Orange juice.  Meaning I'll have to go back at some point.

And the child in the second paragraph?  Still crying.

And it's times like these that diabetes always decides to be a jerk.  It's never when I'm sitting on the sofa with my feet up, noshing on some bon bons (she said, sarcastically).  

Nope, diabetes seems to like to poke it's head in when I'm losing my proverbial shit.

Because today, a dexcom sensor was ripped off as Elise was getting dressed.  A three-day old sensor.

Being blind during the warm-up period, we didn't know she was going high.  Because of Nightscout, I had my raw data, and it was telling me she was running in the high 100s (normal after breakfast). The 2-hour check put her closer to 300. So we corrected off that number.

That correction plummeted her to 40. She was barely coherent. It took her 30 minutes to get better.

As an aside: I'm pretty sure meter accuracy is the culprit on this one. Even though the strips are testing in range with the control solution (albeit, on the higher end), every 5 strips or so, we notice a huge discrepancy between the meter and dex.  Today, we checked twice (to calibrate dex), and both numbers were around the same. 

So I'm deciding to to send today to time out.  Along with my children.  Because I've got some bon bons to eat.

That moment when...

... The carbs you just weighed for your daughter's afternoon snack almost exactly matches the amount you pre-bolused for (and totally guessed at, not even knowing what she would pick for her snack).

Go me.

Disasters and Diabetes

You may have heard about the storms that blew through the DFW (Dallas/Fort Worth) area the day after Christmas. At least 9 confirmed tornadoes killed 11 people.  One tornado was determined to be an EF4.  Pretty scary stuff.

While the city we live in wasn't affected, a neighbourhood where my husband's friend and co-worker lived was obliterated.  The friend (who I'll refer to as "I"), lost everything; his house was destroyed.  "I", his wife, and their 5-year-old twin boys survived the tornado by hiding in a closet.

"I"'s house the day before

Events like these always bring the stark reality of our situation to my mind.  What would happen to Elise if our house was destroyed by a storm like this? What would we do for supplies?  How do we prepare ourselves so we're not scrambling to make sure we have what we need to take care of her?

I'll be the first to admit we are not prepared in the slightest.  I do have a bag of a few things in our "tornado room".  For those who don't live in tornado country, you want to be in a room that has no exterior walls or windows, and is on the lowest level of your house. I used to have everything in there; strips, pods, extra meters, glucagon... the works.  I had a reminder set up on my phone to rotate out the supplies every few months so they wouldn't expire.

And after awhile, I got tired of it.  So I took all the supplies that expire out, telling myself that I'd have enough time to get what I need in case we were ever in a situation where we had to take cover.

Fred went to visit "I" the other day, to take him some food and check in on him.  He was amazed at the huge path of destruction the tornado had left.  "I" was at his house, surveying the damage and trying to determine what, if anything was salvageable.

What used to be the living room

He told Fred a chilling story; his wife and kids were already in the closet when "I" went to look outside.  He saw the funnel cloud and took off running to the closet.  Not 30 seconds later, it hit.  The winds were so strong, it even blew open the door of the closet. He could hear glass shattering.  Then, 10 seconds later, it was all over.  

After the tornado

Half a minute is not a lot of time, especially in a panicked state of mind.  I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have time to run to the fridge to grab the insulin, let alone anything else, and get to the closet in time to be safe.

And if I'm being brutally honest, there have been times where I've completely ignored the tornado sirens going off.  Usually I'll turn on the news to see what they're saying, then take a look outside. Apparently I fancy myself quite the meteorologist.

That's not to say I'm always so stupid. Last month ago we were having a pretty wicked storm in the middle of the night.  Around 3 am, the sirens went off.  A quick peek outside the window confirmed an eerily green-looking sky, so we scooped up the kids and ran to the closet. Side note: waking small children to huddle in a cramped closet at 3 am is about as fun as counting carbs at a Chinese buffet).  In the end, we were fine, but we did see some damage to surrounding neighbourhoods the next day.

Storm from last month

So what about you?  Are you prepared?  Do you have a "go bag"? It's not just for those of us who have to worry about tornadoes... What about earthquakes? Fires? Hurricanes? Zombies? Land Sharks? Zombie Land Sharks?  Okay, maybe I made some of those up.

You can bet that I've decided to change my ways and make sure my family is prepared.  Hopefully I'll do a follow up post to show you what I came up with.

Many thanks to "I" and his family for letting me share their story.

The song beneath the song

In this post I wrote a few months ago, I talked about all the things we do to try and get diabetes to behave that outsiders don't see, and how exhausting it can get.

When you look at the graphs below, you think, "hey!  Not bad.  Those are some pretty good after breakfast and lunch numbers!'

And you know what?  They are. But what we've been dealing with over the past week is anything but nice.

Strep.  High fever.  Ketones.  BGs in the 400-500 range.  Antibiotics. Blah.

Over the past week, through trial and error, I've discovered that we can hold off those high BGs by bolusing her for double what she eats (so if she has 50g of carbs, I bolus for 100g).  And starting at 1:00 pm, I run a 50% temp basal (so her basal + half for non-podders) for the rest of the day.

The result is today's decent looking graphs.  But the back story on those pretty numbers contains a lot of fear.

It's scary because at dinner, when she eats her most carbs, I am dumping a tonne of insulin into her.  Just before she goes to bed.  

Just before we go to bed.

Actually, I'm chicken when it comes to dinner and don't bolus x2.  Last night I bolused for 140g when she ate 80g and she STILL hovered around 350 until we did multiple corrections.

On this last day of World Diabetes Awareness Month, I wish that people would get what a double-edged sword insulin can be.  Yes, it saves my daughters life.  She cannot live without it.  But it can also take her life if I don't tread carefully.

It's a pretty frightening dance and I'm trying my hardest to sense when diabetes is changing the beat on me.

Even 7 years later, I'm still learning the moves to this dance.

Nine. Times.

It was 1:45pm on Monday when I started this post.  As of 10 minutes ago, I have been on the phone with our school nurse 9 times.  Nine. Times.



The first call was around 8:00 this morning, only 15 minutes after school started.  The reason?  Elise was low. I honestly can't remember the number because there are so many from today, but she was below 100.  Only an hour after eating.

Even though I changed basals and I:C ratios (so she'd get less insulin), she only topped out at 120 after breakfast.

The rest of the day so far has followed suit.  Low after low after low.  In fact, I'm expecting a call soon, since my watch is telling me she's dropping.  Again.

All those spikes you see were from the many, many carbs consumed.
But she always came right back down

Now it's Tuesday, about 24 hours later.  I never finished the post yesterday because... well, life.  And again, I've been on the phone with the nurse nine times.  Including one phone call where Elise was 51 in P.E.

As much as this sucks, I am very thankful we have probably the rocking-est (is this a word?  No?  I care not) school nurse in the history of ever.  We are the lucky ones.  I have heard from so many parents how care at school is a battle, the nurse isn't helpful, and things being done to their child are downright illegal.  

We are contemplating moving to another state.  I am unfamiliar with the laws and unsure of the protections that exist for Elise there.  I do know that right now we live in one of the best states when it comes to protecting our kiddos with T1.  

It shouldn't be this way.  There are so many struggles when it comes to diabetes; finding an endo you gel with, getting the supplies you need, insurance battles... the list goes on.  I'm lucky that when I send Elise off to school, I know she's in amazing hands.  Not everybody has this and it hurts my heart for them.

This month, I am thankful for so much.  But after what we've been dealing with over the last few days, our nurse is at one of the top spots on my list.  If you have a good one, make she she/he knows it.  If you don't... well I'd be shouting that from the rooftops too.

And I think a certain nurse will be getting a "just-because-you're-awesome" gift tomorrow.

Second verse, same as the first... but worse lows this time

My new job title

Conversation with Elise yesterday:

E: S told me that his mom is an art teacher.  I told S that you are a diabetes teacher.

The hours suck, and so does the pay.  There's no time off and the work itself makes you crazy.

But there's nobody else I'd rather work for.

Feeling low?

What do you do when you find boxes and boxes of Jelly Beans in the clearance bin at your grocery store?

You buy as many as possible.

And then text your fellow D-Moms in the area to alert them to the booty of low treasure that awaits them for just 45 cents a box.

It's the small things people...

The Trifecta

Her pump wasn't working, her sensor fell off and her BG was 409.  Time for a pump change, sensor change and a shot.

Around here, that's what is known as "The Trifecta".  Thankfully it doesn't come along very often.

What lies beneath

It was reward for a season well-played.  Elise's soccer coach promised that if the girls won all three of their playoff games that day, next week he would treat them to ice cream after the game. So win they did.

Cue 7 year old girls squealing.

Cue inward groans from one mom.

Don't get me wrong... I'd be crazy to be against ice cream.  It's just...

The game was around dinner  time... we'd have to do ice cream first, then dinner.

Trying to make sure her BG stays pretty good during the game is hard enough, now I have to make sure she's at a decent enough number to have a treat after the game?

Let's not forget how crazy her BG can run after games.  Adding ice cream just doubles the fun!

Of course, no matter what, Elise was going to be included.  Even if her BG was 400, she would get her ice cream.  The hard part is that nobody (but you guys) gets what a crazy, mind-crushing, hold-your-breath-and-hope-the-stars-align freaking tightrope we as parents walk in that situation.

Two hours before game: BG is 220.  You want to correct, but not too much so she isn't low at game time.

Check her BG before game: 170.  Hold your breath as you hope the exercise plus IOB doesn't crash her.  

Watch during the game as the dex meanders a line between 190 and 210.  You want it to go lower.  Hope it doesn't go higher.

See her check her pod on her leg after she makes a save in goal and kicks the ball away. Make a mental note to ask what that was about later.

Game is over. Finger poke shows 203.  Bolus for 20g and head to the ice cream shop with the team.

All these decisions we must make, the internal dialogue... nobody gets it (again, present company excluded). It's exhausting.

So off we went to the ice cream shop.  Elise's cone was at least double what I had bolused for.  So I bolused some more.  One of the moms watching commented about the PDM, "Cool!  It's like a remote!"

After the ice cream was consumed, we left to find dinner.  We stopped at a restaurant, but due to behavioral issues, we decided to leave.  

But honestly, it was the 360 double arrows up that was the real reason. Elise's BG was skyrocketing and we didn't know why.  We found out soon enough.

Remember Elise checking her pod during the game?  Something had hit her leg and jostled the pod, resulting in the cannula coming out.  By the time we got home, almost three hours had elapsed, Elise had eaten about 50g of carbs and received no insulin.

What's the point of this post?  It's what people see vs. what they don't see.  They see me check Elise, give insulin, give carbs and we all live happily ever after. Simple... like using a remote.

What they didn't see was the 509 on the meter.  The ketones. The stomach pain.  The crying. The shot. The pod change. The bacon and yellow pepper she ate for dinner at 9:30 because her BG was still so high. The worried discussion on just how much insulin to give her. After all, it was bedtime.

It. Is. Exhausting.

Why do I wish others could see what lies beneath?  I don't know.  I don't.  I just wish they could get what freaking rock stars our children are.

All my rants are belong to you

I'm feeling sort of ranty.  And a little bit stabby. And like playing hide and seek with my kids... Me as the hider, tucked away somewhere they can't find me with a bottle of wine. And some chocolate.

It's hot here people and cabin fever is setting in.  Did you know it's going to be 108 next Monday?

Hence the stabby.

Anyway... something making me particularly crazy lately is diabetes for many reasons.  So here is my list of D-things making my butt itch today:

1. Why the freaking hell does our supply company cover up the expiration dates on Elise's test strips with their prescription label?  Don't they know I have this weird need to organize our supply cupboard by date?  The only way I can figure out the date is to RIP OPEN EACH AND EVERY BOX.  Kill Me.  Kill me now.
 

2. Elise's pump settings are broken.  And I don't know how to fix them.  Everything I do makes it worse.  We did some basal testing yesterday and it showed me her basals are too high.  We tried to test some more today, but multiple corrections haven't gotten her back into range to start the testing.  It's almost dinner time and the poor girl still hasn't eaten lunch.

3. Our last two dex sensors have been waaaaaaay off. Like, 100 points at times off. A call into dex had the guy lecturing me that the dex is not FDA approved for the arm... blah, blah, blah.  Never mind the fact that it's the ONLY place we put her sensors and has been for the last three years. And just now the problem arises...

4. Elise just came and showed me this.

So instead of finishing my rant, I'm off to change her pod.  After which, all my other rants will have disappeared into the vast recesses of my brain; never to be remembered again.

So I'm dropping the mic and walking off the stage.  

make animated gifs

BOOM.

*in case the title of this post makes you think I've gone crazy, read this.  The title really has no meaning.  It just made me giggle.

Snacks gone wild

I've played soccer for a long time... probably longer than some of you reading this have been alive.  Man, that makes me feel old and stuff.  

The bowl cut!  I can't look away!

I don't really remember having snacks when I was really young, but as I got older, the fixture became orange slices at half-time.  When I was a teenager, the team manager put lemon slices in our water... now that was something special.

Before my Big and Middle littles starting playing soccer, I had head rumours of the post-game snacks; donuts!  Gatorade! Rice Krispie Treats!  Juice!  Sometimes all of the above at the same time!

Holy crap and then some.

It's not that I'm opposed to those things (okay, some of them I am), I just don't get why anyone would feed that junk to their child after they had just gone out and done something good for their little bodies.

I mean, when was the last time you saw a runner crack open a pop after running a 10k?

When Elise started soccer at the age of 4, I took the snack coordinator aside and told her about Elise's diabetes.  She was still on NPH at the time, so snacks were tricky.  Honestly, I'm not sure how we even handled it at the time.  We agreed that healthier snacks were the way to go and she asked for parents to stick to those guidelines when bringing snacks.

Now that Elise is older, I don't yell "DIABETES" at the snack mom.  In fact, we don't really mention it anyone except the coach and how we deal with the post-game snack really depends on what her BG is doing.  

It gets hard on the days that Mattias and Elise have their games right after one another.  For some reason, siblings are included in the post-game snack.  I  guess all that watching (right after breakfast, may I add) makes people hungry.

Just a picture of my cute little guy at his first game

My biggest face-palm moment came this year after one of Mattias's games.  The grandparents had brought (wait for it...) pigs in a blanket (full sized ones) and donuts.  Oh yeah, and juice.  Before I knew what was happening (I was alone wrangling blood sugars and an ornery 2 year old), Mattias had grabbed one of each and was stuffing them in his face.  Elise saw what was happening and went in for the spoils.

I stopped her and let her know she could choose one thing, and she would be splitting it with Lucas.  Before the protest could leave her mouth, I stopped her and told her she had just eaten breakfast 90 minutes ago, and that she had not done anything but sit there and watch.

Of course the grandparents told her to take one of everything, and I politely told them that we were okay with just one donut.  They insisted, telling me there was more than enough and I firmly told them, "no thank you... my other two are fine with sharing."

It got me some strange looks, but I'm sticking with my siblings-do-not-need-snacks policy (and yes, I realize in this case I gave the siblings a snack, but it was all over when Lucas saw the donut... I barely made it to the car alive).

So what do you do when it comes to sports and snacks?  I'd love to hear how other parents handle it.

And for the record, my go to snacks are (not all at the same time); yogurt, cuties, popcorn, applesauce and water .  

Because I'm lame like that.

Makes my heart happy

Different kind of same

When Lucas was approaching 6 months old, I turned to the Internets to see what was new in the world of baby food.  I had made all of Elise's food from scratch, but never did with Mattias because he pretty much refused to eat anything.  But I was pretty sure Lucas was going to be a great eater and I was looking forward to making my own food again.

As I delved into the murky waters of mommy-dom on the internet, I started reading about a new trend; baby led weaning.  This is where you pretty much give your baby whatever you are eating, except in baby-sized pieces. I even saw pictures of babies gnawing on the bone of a pork chop.

Excited, I set out to try baby led weaning.  Except that Lucas hated it.  Hated. It. Everything I gave him, he gagged on.  I had made him a few purees at first and he did great with those, but if he fed it to himself, he just couldn't eat it.  Not wouldn't, just couldn't. So I went back to making purees for him.

One of the things that bothered me about many of these pro-BLW sites is how they put down people who fed their babies purees; calling it "gross" and "old-fashioned".  One blog pooh-poohed the "bizarre and disgusting food combinations" that people fed their babies.  They led you to believe that BLW was the ONLY way to feed your baby.

He eats like this now, but it wasn't always that way

You may be wondering why I'm writing about this on a diabetes blog.  It's because the attitude I found on those blogs is so similar to something I see from time to time in the D-community (not just on-line, but in person too); and it really bugs me. It's the my-way-is-the-only-way-and-all-other-ways-suck attitude.

I have had people question my pump choice, my carb-counting choice, my doctor/hospital choice, my insulin choice, and even the way I approach life with D (the optimistic vs. realistic way people deal with diabetes).

Someone once told me I was a bad Mom for letting Elise be on NPH.  I had another tell me that the Omnipod was awful and they would never use it on their child.

Luckily as a Mom with three kids, I knew the BLW sites don't know what's best for me and my kids, and that I should follow my gut.  And I am thankful that I feel confident enough in my choices and my D-skills to know what works for Elise.

But what about the rookie Moms out there? And the rookie D-Moms?  I've always said that having your child diagnosed with T1 is like becoming a new parent all over again.  There is so much to learn, and it can be frightening.  You're afraid that one wrong move might irrevocably harm your child.  And there is so much information out there that sometimes it's hard to know what is best for your child.

When it comes to giving advice on diabetes, I now wait until I'm asked for my opinion.  It wasn't always that way, when I first met Laura I was high on the power of carb factors and I just HAD to share it with her.  Like a teenager gushing over her first kiss, I went on and on and on (and on) about how awesome carb factors were.   And I probably acted like it was the ONLY way to count carbs.  Luckily, Laura found what worked for her and didn't shun me for verbally vomiting all over her.

The way I look at it is that diabetes is not a "one size fits all" disease.  Just like there are different ways to parent, there are different ways of managing your child's D.  If you are new at this and trying to find your way, there will be lots of trial and error, but you will find your path... I promise.

And as frustrating as it can sometimes be having so many options (and not knowing which way is best for you), there is beauty in choice.

We all do it differently, but it's a different kind of same.

5 different D-Moms.  All doing it differently.
And rocking it in their own way.

It's a fact

Wanna know something?

I HATE adjusting basals.  Like, really, totally, majorly hate.  I'd rather do some hard-core toilet scrubbing than sit down with the PDM and adjust those basals.  

Because it seems to me that even though I wait the requisite three days, see a definite pattern, then change the basal; she will then just go ahead and swing the opposite way.  ALWAYS.

Case in point: Overnight... she was going high, high, high a few hours after midnight.  Like into the 400s high. We are pretty much dealing with "fasting" BGs, because she hasn't eaten in about 6 or 7 hours.  So, I change the basal an hour or two before the highs show up, and BOOM.... hello 50s!  

I only change the basal by .05 (smallest change available on the pod), and start off with a small time period, so there is no way it is dropping her that much.  

What I'm guessing is that the growth spurt finally ended, and she's back to her normal insulin needs.  So these days, instead of messing with my basals, I just run a temp basal for the equivalent of raising/lowering her basal by .05.  I'll do it for about 3 days, and if it works, THEN I change the basal.  This method has been saving my sanity for a few months now.

I love finding an "easy" fix.

I read this the other day and it made me laugh.
Sometimes life with T1 can be just like this

This is in no way medical advice.  Nope... not even close.  If you are so far gone that you are taking advice from some weirdo in your computer, then may I suggest you have far bigger problems than messed up basals?  This is all just anecdotal.  I think you need to talk to your doctor.  

That is all

Letting go and letting her

I'm a control freak.  There's no denying it and I have no problem letting my control freak flag fly (within reason, of course... I do my best to not let it affect other people).

Elise was diagnosed at 12 months old, so obviously either Fred or I were in charge of everything at the start.  For the most part I did most of it because I wanted to.  Because along with being a card-carrying member of the Control Freak Society, I also have some type A tendencies.

These two things can be both a blessing and a curse when it comes to diabetes.

I constantly read and try to learn all I could about type 1... but all that information can be scary.

I weigh her food counted carbs down to the decimal point because the accuracy can be crucial... but it can cause meal times to be stressful and makes me crazy at times.

I study her BG readings and dex graphs, trying to figure out how to dose for problem foods, even keeping a journal at one point hoping I could spot patterns... but it's exhausting and what works one day doesn't work the next, causing this control freak all sorts of rage.

Elise has now had type 1 for over 6 years and is in charge of certain aspects of her care.

She does all finger pokes (except while she's asleep, of course)
Helps set up for pump/dex changes.
Cleans the insulin vial/dex transmitter with an alcohol wipe, along with the insertions sites.
Presses the start button to insert the cannula for the pod.

But part of me has been wondering lately if I need to let go of more responsibilities.  She vacillates between wanting more, and wanting nothing to do with D.  And I struggle with the question, "how much is too much?"  She's only 7 after all.

Sometimes just asking her to wash her hands and check her blood sugar puts her into a tailspin.

"Why do I have to do this and nobody else in the family has to?"

"I'm tired of checking my blood sugar!"

"I'd rather not eat so I don't have to poke my finger again."

On days like these, I offer to do it for her.  She seems tired and over-burdened by the disease and is grateful to have me step in and do it for her.  But then I worry... Am I enabling her?  Will this delay her independence?  What will happen when she moves out on her own and there isn't anyone there to take over?

Other times she is gung-ho about her diabetes care. She wants to learn how to count carbs, even asking me to print up a cheat-sheet of her favourite foods to hang on the fridge.  She wants to check her brother's BG after she checks hers (and the sweet boy always obliges). She begs me to let her fill her pod with insulin.  But again I worry... how much is too much?  She's going to be doing this for a long time and I don't want her to burn out.

Because there are so many aspects of her care that I will slowly be doling out on her way to adulthood.

Dealing with insurance companies.

Making doctor appointments.

Scheduling lab work.

Managing prescriptions.

Ordering supplies.

Organizing supplies.

Keeping up with all the technology.

The list goes on (and on).

Parents of kids with T1 who are diagnosed at an age where they rely on us walk a very perilous tightrope. On one side we run the risk of raising a child who is totally unprepared to live on their own.  Cannot count a carb or figure out an insulin dose, and is completely dependent on someone to help with their care

On the other, there's the real possibility of them burning out very early on, when they have decades to go in living with this disease.  We must let them be kids first, and kids with diabetes second.

We try to stave off burnout by doing it for them.

We try to teach independence by letting them do it themselves.

It's a dance, and I'm doing my best to teach Elise the steps.

If you decide to get out of bed in 2015

If you decide to get out of bed on January 1, 2015, you might just be greeted with a HIGH on your daughter's CGM.

And if you see that HIGH on the CGM, you will go into her room to check her blood sugar. When you check her blood sugar, the meter will tell you 389, so you will pull out the PDM to correct her.

And when you pull out the PDM to correct your daughter, it will screech at you in error.  And tell you to call Omnipod support.

And when you call Omnipod support, they will tell you to reset the PDM.  But that won't work.

When the reset doesn't work, Omnipod support will tell you they can't get you a new PDM for two days because it's NEW YEARS DAY! and people who depend on their medical supplies are SOL because, well... Happy New Year!!!

And when you're done freaking our about that.  And the fact that you have no Lantus.  And the fact that you've never USED Lantus.  And the fact that 2015 sucks balls so far, you will turn to the people who live in your computer.

And when you turn to the people who live in your computer, they come through for you.  And angel choirs sing.

But when the angel choirs sing, they get interrupted by a series of mishaps that lead to you getting an old version of the PDM and then your husband has to drive across town to get another PDM that is actually the new one.

And while your husband is getting the PDM, your garbage disposal will clog. 

And when your garbage disposal clogs, you will be reminded that it's NEW YEARS DAY!, and people don't work on NEW YEARS DAY!  And if they do, it will cost you the price of a month's worth of diabetes supplies to pay for it.

And because you are so cheap, you get on the Internets and search "unclog garbage disposals".  You grab a sink plunger, baking soda, vinegar.

After you grab said ingredients, you will go to work on your sink for about an hour, with no results.  You will then decide to try one final time, plunging that bad boy with everything that is in you.

When your tenacity pays off, and your sink begins to drain, you will thrust the plunger into the air with what could only be called a primal scream of triumph.

You will almost want to holler "YIPPIE-KI-YAY, (insert expletive)!", but when you see that your seven year old daughter has come to see what all the fuss is about, you will dance a jig with her instead.

And when your husband gets home with the replacement PDM, you will program it, slap a new pod on your daughter, and call it a day.

Because when you get out of bed on January 1, 2015, you might just get handed a big ol' crap sandwich.