It was another roller coaster of a day with diabetes. Emotionally, physically, mentally...
It was "field day" at school, meaning hours of running and playing in the sun. Lows were expected. They never came. The sun managed to stress her body enough to keep her in the high 200's for the two solid hours of running around. She had fun. She laughed and bounced and smiled and loved every minute of it. I stayed with her, gave her extra insulin and water. Vigilant. It didn't help. She was 320 before lunch, dehydrated and tired and happy.
In the afternoon it was time for a Mother's day tea party. It was precious! She was so excited to show me the gifts she had made and the poem she'd written. I thought my heart would melt. Perfect joy! They served sweet tea and cookies, she was still 300. Damn sun. Damn diabetes. One cookie and water. She was a little sad, but we wrapped up a cookie for later and planned to have our own tea party at home. She understood. She's amazing.
I decided to let the kids swim after school. It's HOT and they've been begging all week. We pack our little cooler for our short trip down the block. Water, juice boxes, glucose gel, crackers, insulin, test kit, glucagon, etc. When we arrive she's 130. Perfection. She splashes and plays. Happiness. She reconnects for a snack. We reconnect to the pump to replace her basal every 30 minutes. We answer a hundred questions from curious kids and ignorant adults. We ignore the stares and pointing. We're used to it.
Two hours later she's over 300, again. Another bolus... oh, but wait her site is out. Crap! We have to go, NOW. We get home and her sensor falls right out of her arm. Frustration! I fight with tubing that wont prime and finally get her set ready. Her bottom looks so awful, it has to have a break from these sites. I insist that we try a new spot. She is exhausted, over 400 and inconsolable. Ketones now. She fights, I hold her down with all the strength I have and put a site in her thigh. She cries for 10 minutes. She calms down. She sits down to eat dinner, she's "starving." She gives me a hug. Guilt. I give her insulin for dinner. She starts to feel sick to her stomach. She can't eat. Oh no.
I put her in the shower. Wash her beautiful curls. Put rash cream all over the old sites, tape rashes... holes, everywhere. Lotion her little calloused fingers. Watch her limp down the hall because her new site hurts. More Guilt. Read some stories, smile at her sweet little face. Put "magic cream" on her less irritated arm for the new sensor. She asks if I can do it while she sleeps. I will. She's grateful. I wish magic cream worked on my heart.
She's sleeping peacefully, beautiful. I hope she stays that way. I hate to make her cry in her sleep with a stupid needle. Hate it! Her blood sugar is still 380 after a new site, new insulin, no dinner and a day of non-stop activity. I can almost feel it damaging her body. Fear. It makes me want to scream. I expect lows... the activity is bound to catch up with us sooner or later, but they may or may not come. The sun may have won today. I can only hope that our new sensor will help me keep her safe through one more night. I'm grateful and angry and happy and a little bit bitter and totally exhausted and hopefully heading toward numb again. I want off of this ride! I'm done. I want a cure.
