I don't want her to see the worry...or to ever feel the knot in her stomach that I had when the meter rang up a hefty 540 blood sugar this morning. My first clue when I got home from work this morning was the uber dry lips that she had. We took the older kids to school, then when we got home, she asked for a glass of water. Guzzle. Gone. Then another glass of water. Guzzle. Gone. Or...how about the ultra sweet breath that I haven't smelled in such a long time, but recognized at the first whiff? Blood sugar check. Whew.....540. Gulp. More water Jada? No..but she really had to go potty! Gee...I wonder why.... I grabbed the ketone strips and she laughed.....peeing on those darn things for some reason are SO much fun. Large ketones....not a surprise. Obviously, something was wrong and it was most likely the site. And sure enough, when she pulled it out (which is also a tremendous amount of fun for Jada), the cannula was practically bent in half. Ugh.
I checked her at 3 a.m. this morning when I got up for work. She was 300. Lately, she's been high in the middle of the night, so I didn't think too much about it, just gave her a correction and off to work I went. Jeff always takes care of her breakfast, because I'm not home and normally, I communicate with him through a note on the kitchen table about any "action" that I've taken in the wee morning hours, but I didn't today. Looking back through her numbers, I see she was still at about 300 when she ate her breakfast. If he had known that I gave a correction and it didn't work, he most likely would have changed the site.
Guilt. It's what I'm feeling. Not communicating. Being in a hurry...both of us wanting to just get to work and get our day started. I have fought back tears all morning. Jada didn't want to do a site change...they've been a battle and she prefers Jeff doing them. Big, hot, salty tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought me. And I could hardly hold mine back. If it were an option to run to the bedroom and lock the door, bury my face in my pillow and scream....I would have. There are days, like today, that I just don't think I can do this anymore. But I see how well she does this life, and think...how can I not? And I will.
10 comments:
All I can say is I'm so sorry for you and for Jada. Tomorrow is a new day, the sun will shine (while not sure if it's shinning in Alaska but you know what I mean) and you can kick D's butt then!!
You and Jada are amazing Amy. Those are rough days for sure. "D" doesn't play by the rules, it doesn't have to. It has a hold on our children...and like you said, unfortunately, running away and not playing the "game" isn't an option...AND you "have to" play by the rules. Your daughter's life depends on it.
You are a Mama Pancreas Rock Star sistah. Hold your head up high.
You guys are always in my prayers. Dealing with chronic conditions is so draining. Tomorrow will be better. Hugs to you!!!
eek! That sucks! I am glsd she is coming down.
I'm sorry Amy... my heart breaks every time I hear a story like this. Our little ones go through so much, it just doesn't seem fair. I hope that things improved for both of you.
Don't beat yourself up with guilt. I know where you're coming from. Been there, done that. That you're so upset just goes to show you that you are a wonderful, caring mother!!!!
You can not give up. You know that The Big D is evil and wants to try trick you and make you think you can't do it. But you can. Don't give up.. keep making those corrections.. try harder tommorrow. It will get better.
You are doing a great job! This disease is so hard to manage. It's enough to make you snap. :/ Great blog, by the way.
Hello! I'm a Christian mom to a newly diagnosed diabetic & celiac son. It's a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to reading your blog.
hi, ive just found your blog, look forward to reading along.
i know what you mean abt the ketone smell. i dont smell it often , but you recognise it immediately, right. ergh.. dont feel bad, we all have bad days and 2mrw comes quick enuf with another chance to do it all again. hang in there.
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