Why did the insulin die in my pancreas?

The more I hear and learn about insulin pumps the more I realise that it would remove so much doom and angst associated with Lance’s diabetes.

Today was ridiculous.

Firstly,having a 1.8mmol/L hypo before morning tea is a very good indicator that the rest of the day/night is going to be stupendously disasterous.

Lance had a slow recovery, and so to allieviate my concerns, I took him straight to the doctor. After a general lookover from the GP, he was rendered as okay to go home. It’s almost guaranteed that when we have a hypo in the “1’s” that Lance will be struck down with a miserable headache. Got it in one. We sat in our house, with every blind and curtain closed, whilst he got some rest and let the paracaetamol sink in.

An hour later, he woke with a voracious appetite. He visited the fruit bowl, and decided on a smoothie. I blended a banana, berries, milk, ice, honey and sugar free ice-cream together to make a delicious frothy delight, complete with an oriental paper cocktail umbrella. He inhaled it like water, and then regained some of his spirit back.

Not long later, I heard the back door slam. Chino and Lance were chasing each other, Lance manically laughing and trying to jump off the trampoline onto the clothesline. Ummm..where is my son? After removing Lance and tipping the trampoline upside down, he came inside, his face glistening with sweat. I was just filling my friend Liz in on what had taken place when he came in and informed her of how thirsty he was and how he had guzzled 600ml of water. BSL reading: 23.9mmol/L.

Yikes.

Mr Novorapid made an appearance, I dialled up 2 units and he injected himself in his belly.

I noticed that his mood was easing and the mania from sugar saturation was slowly wearing off.  His running, water flushing and insulin had done the job.

Not a bad result from a disasterous morning, I thought to myself. Why do I ever let myself think these thoughts?? It is basically inviting pandemonium to strike at any moment. I’m not overly supersticious, but “expect the worst and hope for the best” is definitely a wise mantra to have on constant replay where Type 1 Diabetes is concerned. I have been caught out too many times. Just when I think that I have sewn up the day beautifully, it all comes crashing down in disaster around me.

Lance dialled up his nightly insulin dose, got me to check it and proceded to inject his insulins, making a total of 6 injections for the day. I made a vegetable medley with cheese, and gluten free noodles. He warmly thanked me and sat at his place.

I hadn’t had my first mouthful yet when I heard a blood curdling scream and a crescendo of ”OW OW OW OW OW’s” amongst a mouthful of beans. What NOW? You would swear I had laced his meal with glass shavings!

“My tongue, my tongue, get the food out, ow Ow OW!”

I hurriedly scooped his half eaten mouthful from his mouth, only to discover a fleshy pink hole in his tongue that was about 2 cm deep. He had complained that he had a sore mouth earlier, but as he has a mouth ulcer at the moment, I didn’t really think too much of it.

The hypo. It was pretty out there…

His refusal to drink or eat whilst in a “1″ zone is horrific to go through. I literally have to sit him in front of him and curl my legs around him to keep him still enough to get some sugar into him. In the meantime, punches are thrown and tears are shed. I recalled him clenching his mouth firmly shut this morning. And, in the process, removing a chunk from his tongue.

My reaction of horror was highly contagious. He ran to the bedroom,stared in the mirror at the offending wound and screamed blue murder. In an attempt to calm him, I bought in a cup of ice chips, which were instantly pushed out of the way. He stood, crying for 45 minutes, getting more and more hysterical, refusing to listen to reason. ( Mum’s who have been through vomiting gastro bugs will have some type of frozen glucose drink in their freezers. It’s just the done thing.) I ran for a cup of Lucozade chips, and quickly blended them into a slushie-style drink, with a sachet of Gloria Jean’s sugar to boot. My heart sank. The insulin. He had had a full dose. It would be peaking right about…

NOW.

5 soon turned into 4, and thanks to a divine intervention, he actually sat down and ate the glucose gloop.

He was still periodically welling up with tears. I racked my brain thinking of the contents of my medicine cupboard. Magic. I had a lozenge with anaesthetic in it. I promised him that he would feel no pain if he sucked it. I never make promises like this but I was absolutely desperate. I gave him a dose of Painstop-an over the counter preparation one step away from a doctors’ prescription. One thing I know is that one dose of this stuff and the pain will actually stop. Usually.

It is now past 1am, and I am warm and fresh after a long, hot shower. Screw the water restrictions-tonight I had a 29 minute shower and would have stayed longer if the hot water hadn’t ran out.

Lance fought the PainStop, cried some more, got down to 2.1mmol/L and spat a whole mouthful of lemonade in my face. If I would have had it open wide enough, it would have landed directly in my mouth. Hey, the family that sprays together stays together.

My poor little boy is moaning in his sleep because his stomach is empty, and he is probably about to vomit any old time now. I knew it was pointless giving more drink so I reached for my ever faithful glucagon kit and sunk it into his thigh. His blood sugar at this point it 7.2mmol. I know I am in for a horror night though. That number is only going to go down down down…an I will have to repeat this ridiculous and infuriating process all over again.

I’m watching Notes On A Scandal. Judi Dench is such a good villian. Cate Blanchett is such a chameleon-I would die for those cheekbones…..

I have plastic and towels covering everything. two buckets, water, more clean towels and face cloths. And the good old Panadol Suppositories for the rancid headache that will follow in the next few hours.

In the meantime, I’ll sit back and watch Judi pursue Cate. And wait.

If Lance had an insulin pump, this almost laughable series of events could have been averted. It’s tough doing it old school. I know the site changes mustn’t be much fun, but this is just absurd. I’m so tired of the same old same old. I can almost pinpoint what is going to happen next.

For now though, on with the show.

I know hell is around the corner, so why worry about it now?

Wish I had popcorn. Or a Valium.