This is the story I began to write last night, at 2 am, sitting in my daughter's bedroom as she slept.
I completed it this morning.
I think I just want to cry. It would feel better, to cry about this, than to sit in my daughter's bedroom and check her blood sugar every fifteen flipping minutes and see numbers that all start with two.
Since 8 pm last night, here's the numbers roundup:
8 pm 244
9 pm 260
10 pm 252
10:30 pm 282 Pod change to arm
11 pm 272
11:30 pm 276
12 am 285
12:30 am 277 Pod change with NEW Apidra
1 am 291
1:30 am 265
1:45 am 272
2:30 am 242
THOSE ALL LOOK LIKE THE SAME NUMBER!!!!!!!!!!
I mean, you know what DMamas, I know meter accuracy, 282 is the same as 275!
Despite boluses ranging from .05 to .30 AND temp basal increases of +30% for hours.
WHAT THE HECK???
And Grace doesn't hang in the 200s. When she is that high, I correct and she comes down.
OK, so I changed her Pod to her arm at 10 pm. No problem. From the same just-a-bit-left Apidra bottle. Mistake, I think that was. I should have cracked open a new spanking new bottle of Apidra and roundly said 'Cheers my friends!'
It is finally at 1:30 am that I realize this is what I should have done. Why did it take me over 5 hours and readings that did not change, despite bolus after bolus, to actually DO the one thing I knew would help her. Sleep deprivation? I don't know, but last night I felt so very lost. I was so very tired.
And Grace was awake until about 11 pm through it all. I sat at the edge of her bed, my iPad in hand, desperately trying to stay awake and asking Grace to try and sleep, that I would take care of it, her job was to rest.
And I said some angry things last night. I cursed the damn insulin. I cursed the Pod changes.
Not cursed like sailor-cursed, but cursed them through saying -
'This is ridiculous...What the hell is wrong with this?...I cannot believe this... I will never get to sleep... I am so very tired..."
And Grace heard me saying it.
And I profoundly regret it. It's even hard to write that I said those things in a semi-awake 9 year old's bedroom, one who didn't ask for diabetes.
One who just wanted their Mom there, to make it all better.
Right around 11:45 pm, Grace whispers to me at the edge of the bed. She is about to fall asleep.
"Thank you for helping me Mom."
And I start to cry. I tell her that "No, no, Mommy is always here to help you through, no matter what. I will stay awake for days if that is what it takes. I don't mind Grace, it's just that I am so very tired and when Mommy is tired she says things she feels inside, instead of just keeping it to herself. But Grace, you are so very welcome. Mommy is so very sorry I said those things. I love you honey."
And I went to bed, finally, at 3 am, with a 179 BG and a +20% temp basal set for the next 2.5 hours.
And I went to bed with a heavy heart.