Really Bad Low

I haven't written about diabetes for a while. I don't like giving it front-and-center in our lives any more than it already demands. But it's 2am and I'm dealing with the emotional aftermath of a really bad low this afternoon.

I'd been at the park with our homeschool group, with the only child in our extended household who was not sick with the respiratory bug that's been making the rounds. On the way home I stopped at the library to drop off some books. In the parking lot I got a text from home. William's BG is 148 and he's freaking out. I'm two minutes away and head home. I walk in, and, sure enough he's freaking out. Glucometer says he's fine, but after another minute or so of trying to talk to him, it's clear he's not. He's conscious, but not responsive. Crying, all he can say is "mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy." My firmest "snap out of it" voice is not getting through. He can't pull himself together.

So, what do I do? I give him glucose. Meter says his BG is normal. My gut says he's crashing. So, glucose it is. In a few minutes he's calmed down and has a bowl of cereal. He climbs into my bed shivering. I set up a game of Mad Libs on the iPad to distract him. He's fine.

This time.

The enormity of what I have to do every day to keep him "fine" doesn't often get to me. But right now, it has.

My son could have died today. If I hadn't told the meter to go beep itself, and trusted my gut, and instinctively known what was going on with my son, and acted on it, he could have been on the floor seizing before the meter told me he was dropping.

I've never had to use the glucagon. He's never gone so low he's lost consciousness or seized. And I pray he never will. But it's a possibility. Every day and every night.

I don't often let the enormity, and impossibility, of my job as William's pancreas get to me. But tonight it has. His life is in my hands. He's trusting me to keep him alive. Every day and every night.

There is no formula for doing this. There's lots of calculations, but no straight-forward "this is how you do it" answer. And no matter how good you are at it, it's never good enough. You can never keep that fucking BG on target all the time. And one miscalculation could kill my son. I could kill my son.

I usually stay focused on the positive. Everything that I have to be grateful for. All of the tools and resources we have to keep William alive and healthy.

But not tonight.

Tonight I'm heartbroken and pissed.

This is not fair.

William does not deserve this.

Type 1 Diabetes is seriously fucked up.

That is all.

Romantic Dinner

You never know what's going to inspire kids. Among the hundreds of apps Thomas had loaded onto his iTouch, he came across an app that teaches you how to fold cloth napkins. Really. He practiced a few different folds for a while, then asked about formal table setting. I handed him Amy Vanderbilt's Complete Book of Etiquette (yes, I do have a copy on our bookshelf) and he disappeared for a bit to study it. A bit later, a sheet was mysteriously hung across the doorway to the dining room, and David and I were told, in no uncertain terms, repeatedly, that we were forbidden to enter the dining room for any reason.

That evening, hubby and I were instructed to enter the dining room, donning black jackets, where the kids all worked together to serve us dinner. KitMama was head chef, providing her famous chili, Michael invented desert, and Thomas was head waiter (and photographer).

Prepared to be served.

Desert. Fruit smoothie with marshmallows.


Centerpeice, and one of our servers.

Batting Cages

Papa Bear and some of the Cubs met up with friends at a local batting cage place, where the kids got the chance to go up against a batting machine. The thing about batting cages, though, is you can't really get good pictures through the net. And when you manage a decent picture through the net, it's of the back of the person batting. So, no action shots. Just a couple of posed shots.

Michael and Little Man.

Papa Bear, Thomas, Michael, Little Man, and William

with friends

Wind Machine

Michael's concept of a windmill....the motor turns the propeller. I was impressed with the balance, despite the long legs.

Invention 2:14:12

One of Michael's many inventions. I'm not sure what this one does, but it's made from the remains of a mosquito trapping machine.

The Ties That Bind - or the Knots That Tie - Us Together

Continuing on my tatting journey, I found this lovely (and very simple!) pattern for a bookmark. What better gift for my bibliophile friend's birthday?

Plus a hand-made card...

And final touches, for a sweet little gift.

Happy Birthday, Grace!