We’ve been on the T1 roller coaster lately… After months and months of easy overnight treatments for hypos, last week when I tested the bear and discovered that she was in the mid-60s and tried to wake her up enough to drink a juicebox, all hell broke loose. Boneless 5-year-old, crying, refusing to drink, refusing anything else offered, reacting like I was torturing her instead of offering juice. Her emotion of course triggered every feeling of fear, guilt, irritation, exhaustion that I have over her having to even deal with T1, all because despite the ridiculously low odds, she got it from me. Eventually the BHE* came to our rescue, got me to let go, and took the bear downstairs to let her choose what she wanted. After some jelly beans, her not-even-very-low blood sugar came back up and she let her father put her back to bed and slept peacefully until morning. While the two of them were sorting things out in a sensible and calm manner I was lying in bed sobbing. Was I really trying to force my child to drink juice? Ready to have her father hold her arms while I put the straw into her mouth and squeezed the juicebox despite her tears & distress? When the solution was as simple as a change of scenery, some time to calm down, having some control over what she ate to treat that low. There was plenty of time for that – her blood sugar wasn’t all that low. Why was her father able to do that when I couldn’t?

That was followed up with a huge crack in her pump resulting in getting a new one overnighted to us, and a day later getting a call from daycare that the pump wasn’t delivering any insulin — she went from 94 to 512 in about 2.5 hours. Fun times!

All of the emotions that come along with T1 diabetes – your own or your child’s – are sometimes the trickiest part. They don’t get “tweaked” like pump settings when you go to the endocrinologist, they don’t make any sense to those around you who aren’t dealing with the same thing (or even to yourself most of the time), and they are exacerbated by the fatigue and blood sugar fluctuations that are physical ramifications of diabetes. I’ve done on and off therapy since my own diagnosis and since the bear’s diagnosis. That can really help, but still has never made the core feeling of being alone with all of it go away entirely. I’m so lucky to have the support of the BHE, my colleagues, and great medical providers, but diabetes is still one of those things that no one else can really share or lessen the burden of. Unless it is being able to take over when the hypo gets out of control and mom needs to go lie down and have a good cry.

P.S. Not to worry – these emotional storms blow through but as usual, life goes on and we all just do the best we can on the next day and the next. Just recognizing that even though most of the time I am able to be positive and accepting there are moments when you just have to be sad.

*BHE=Best Husband Ever

This entry was posted in Getting it Wrong, Living with Diabetes and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Rollercoaster

  1. jessi says:

    I think it’s great that BHE came in and took over for you and you were able to just have a good cry. I cant imagine how it must be not only having your own T1 to deal with but then a child’s as well. It sounds like you have a real night in shining armor.

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