I hate to say that this is a rare occurrence, but it is. We are all of a certain age when running children to various events and activities, coupled with our desire to earn enough money to pay our copious bills kind of eats into our social time. Nonetheless, an effort was made, and we managed to pull it off.
My kids are social animals, and so were excited to see our guests. We cooked some burgers on the grill and sat on the porch talking until the mosquitoes came out. The adults then sat down to a game of cards in the dining room. M sat at the computer, facebooking or something, while her brother chose to play video games in the next room.
We had had burgers, as mentioned before. M had one and with it, she had a nice big bulkie roll. A bulkie roll is about 39 carbs all by itself, plus, as bread is a fast-acting carb, its effect on M's bg levels can be somewhat unpredictable. In cases like these, we typically test M's bg levels about 2 hours after eating to determine if any action must be taken.
With my back to M, I casually ask her to test her bg.
She tries.
I hear an exasperated sigh as her test strip makes itself useless.
With M's old (pre-pump) test strips, M had five seconds after it absorbed her blood before we learned the results. These new strips start the five second countdown immediately upon contact with blood. If she doesn't bleed enough onto the strip, it malfunctions, giving an obnoxious reading like "failure" or some such thing on the screen of her bg monitor.
She tries again. After a moment, I notice her slip up to her room.
My sister reports that she made a face before ascending the stairs. I finish the hand, and go up to check on her.
What I encounter surprises me. It is sheer panic, personified.
M is shaking, red-faced, and teary-eyed.
Gently, I ask, "What happened?"
Shrilly, M responds, "My blood sugar was really high!"
Quietly and calmly, "How high?"
Panicked, "Really, really high! 525!"
Wow, that is high. I pause and quietly ask if M has checked to see if her pump is working. She tells me in a high pitched tremolo that it said "No delivery" on the screen, so she pushed the buttons to administer the dose again.
I check the pump. On the screen I see that it is indeed counting down the dose that is being pumped into her body.
"How much did you have to administer?" I ask.
"19 units."
"Well, let's set the kitchen timer for 20 minutes and see if it your bg is headed in the right direction. If not, we'll give you an injection and change your infusion set, okay?"
She nods and tells me that she's scared. I hold her and tell her that I'm glad that she knows that this is serious, but that we will take care of it. I keep calm by reminding myself that her bg was likely this high for at least a week before she was diagnosed, and that she will not die in the next 20 minutes while we wait to see if the pump is working.
I head downstairs to play cards some for a little while, and dutifully set the timer.
After a very long 20 minutes, I ascend the stairs to check on my daughter. She has changed into her pajamas, and looks a little more relaxed. We test her bg: 228.
Well, now we know that the pump is working, which is a relief. M decides to bolus again, to continue to correct her bg to more normal levels. I allow her to make the call, and we agree to check her bg again in a half an hour, to make sure that she didn't over correct.
I join our guests at the table, who are witness to the joys of worrying about one's diabetic child. My friend reaches over to sympathetically trace the furrows in my brow. I always joke with my students that I need Botox thanks to them, but maybe it is this: worrying about my children, especially the one with the life-threatening illness.
M comes downstairs and sits at the table with us. She is relaxed. Smiling. Sociable. You could almost say that she is a whole other person. We check her bg again. It is 103. This whole other person is the one I am used to: the one who is pleasant, rational, and friendly. The one I knew before the diabetes.
Later M and I have the required discussion about a) making sure that you tell someone when you need help, and b) not hiding from the people who can help you.
At one point in the evening, my friend ad asked, "Do you think she ran off because I am here?"
And I reassured him, saying, "No, I think she just panicked."
But guess what? During our conversation, M told me that the reason she ran off is that she didn't know what to do with guests in the house. She was embarrassed, confused about how to be polite, and of course, somewhat irrational due to the high bg levels.
As far as WHY the bg levels spiked so high that night, we don't really know. I have my theory, which is that when M went to administer her dinner dose of insulin, she did not push the delivery button twice as required (for confirmation). It is the most logical explanation. But M says she distinctly remembers pushing the delivery button twice.
Not wanting to argue with her after her ordeal, I relent, and call it a mystery. Then again, what else could cause her bg to go up by over 350 mg/dl in two hours? I am hard pressed to think of another explanation.
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| Don't do this next time, please. |
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