I lost my mind for a second and thought that I was smart enough...capable enough...good enough at my job of Emma's pancreas to handle taking her on a very looong walk to a store yesterday. It was a nice sunny and somewhat humid day. Leaving from our house, this trip by car would probably take about 6-7 minutes tops (mostly because there are a few stop lights along the way and it is a very busy road. So, I figured it would probably take us roughly 30 minutes to walk (seems like a huge time difference when I type it out...but keep in mind we are also talking in terms of short 7 year old legs). Anyway, we set off and made it there in one piece with absolutely no complaining or questions of "are we there YET?" coming from Emma. We stopped at McDonald's before going into the store just so we could have a break, get a drink, and check blood sugars. Emma came in at a respectable 4.0 (72)...a tad low...but pretty much what I was expecting considering the big walk. So, I let her munch on some fries with no bolus and have a bite of my ice cream figuring that little boost would do the trick. We left and walked across the parking lot to the store. After browsing the shelves, Emma found a book called "You Gotta Be Kiddin Me!" which was awesome...it has a million questions in it along the lines of "would you rather always feel like you have to sneeze?...or...have everything that touches you tickle?"....it's a really fun book!
Anyway, we made our way home laughing and asking each other these random "would you rather" questions. I checked her BG at home and all was still good. I knew in the back of my mind though that the proverbial shit was going to hit the fan sooner or later. I knew that I would be paying the price for this huge walk at some point within the next 24 hours. So, I sat there anticipating it. I made dinner, went about our usual routine of the evening, chatted with friends out in the front yard, gave Emma a bath, bedtime snack, and off to bed. Blood sugars were still being my friend and coming in range at this point...so I foolishly began to believe that MAYBE this time it would be different. Maybe this time there would be no crash. Maybe this time the bastard that is diabetes would leave us alone and we could all get a good nights sleep.
I can't believe I was so foolish and naive...I've been doing this for 3 years now...I should have known...I should have listened to that nagging voice in my head telling me not to fall for it...it was bound to happen. But I didn't.
I wound up having to stay awake until 3:30am feeding her carbs, setting temp basals, checking blood sugars, all to make sure she stayed above 5.0(90). It wasn't pretty. Diabetes was kicking me while I was down. It was throwing all the punches and I was doubled over...bloody and bruised...swaying on my feet...trying my best to just hang in there...stay in the ring...keep my gloves up and knock it down...knock it out of the damn ring and away from my kid. I finally passed out at 3:30am only to be awakened by my Shawn at 4:30am telling me that she was now 17.1(307)....damn...diabetes not only knocked me out cold when I was at my weakest and most tired...but it seems that it continued to kick my ass while I was passed out. We decided to check for ketones and let it ride...fearing that a correction would drop her like a rock (she is always super sensitive in the wee hours to corrections). Well 2 hours later Emma woke me up saying she had to go to the bathroom....in my sleep stupor I instantly saw the gigantic bright flashing neon lit up sign of "KETONES KETONES KETONES!" in my mind. I checked her and she was now 25.1(451).....no ketones...awesome frickin sauce. So, i corrected thinking all would be ok because we would be awake in 2 more hours for breakfast anyway.
Well, apparently diabetes must have loaded up on Redbull or something in preparing to kick our collective asses...because 2 hours later at breakfast...Emma was nauseous...BG was 4.0. I gave her food, bolused as per the pump and thought we were in the clear. Yea....think again Amy! 15 min. later Emma looked at me..her face white as a ghost...lethargic, barely audible, and shakey...I checked BG and she was 2.9....what the EFF?????
To make a very long story short (I'm sorry this post is so wordy...I'm a little belligerant at the moment from lack of sleep)...I set a temp basal again...gave juice...and she came up. I saw my weak and crumpled child...lost in a fog of low BG...so small...breaking my heart...cursing this monster of a disease. Within 5 minutes...she transformed before my very eyes...back to MY child...rosey cheeked, loud, giggling, chattering away, brushing the cat's fur and laughing like a loon at the crazy cat that was trying to eat it's own fur floating thru the air from the brushing. I had my kid back. I didn't lose her. It was a marathon battle and diabetes nearly broke me this time...but in the end we won...finally.