So tonight a 460 popped up and immediately B looked at his pump and said, “Yup, it's cracked Mom.”
I think it is important to note here that my hubby is in charge of set changes. I deal with the calls from school, I deal with most of the carb counting and nighttime checks…HE deals with the set changes. It displaces some of my guilt and takes some of the load off of my shoulders. Sure, I've had to do it now and then…and honestly it isn’t THAT big of a deal…
But it’s those freakin’ bubbles that get me every time!
Tiny bubbles…how big is too big? Sure champagne bubbles are OK, but I don’t drink champagne people…how big is too big? I flick, I push it back in, I flick and flick…but I can’t get them to go. My husband is AWESOME at it. One flick of the wrist and he has a full reservoir full of insulin that is as flat as tap water.
So anyway…tonight B’s tubing cracked and he needed a set change. My husband was out for the evening so I took the easy way out. I attached one of the other boys pumps and corrected his blood sugar and then added his basel for the next three hours.
But, it didn’t work.
He was high as a rouge balloon and wasn’t coming down.
He either A) Needed a shot, Or B) Needed a set change.
I was totally going to go with B.
“I’ve gotta give you a shot honey.”
“UHG! I REALLY don’t like shots Mom.”
“I know B. You should know, I REALLY don’t like giving them either.”
Then he says, “They don’t really hurt…it’s just the thought of them that makes it so awful.”
So as I was looking for a needle, I suddenly bucked up…
“Meri,” I thought….”Meri, you are a grown up. Put the freakin' set together and get it done with. He either gets one shot or two. It depends on you. What are you made of? You are no wimp!”
So I gathered the necessary supplies and got down to business. J was by my side. Ryan has been giving him lessons lately, but he too has a bubble problem. I thought between the two of us, we could get it done. I finally got the insulin to what I thought was a good place…but as I showed it to J, we noticed a giant bubble on the top.
“Do it again Mom.”
“What if I just push it out?”
“Do it again Mom.”
(sheesh, what a slave driver.)
So I did it again and this time he gave me a pass. (It was close though.)
So B’s pump was all back together, we primed it and inspected the tubing…
So I call in B and after a bit of negotiating, we decide on a place to put it.
He closes his eyes and whispers, “Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.” And then screams, “GO!”
I pop it in and his eyes pop open and he gives me a look. A terrifying look of shock.
“What???!!! What did I do???” I’m freaking out here…what did I do to my boy?
“Wow Mom…it was just like Dad does it! It felt like a speck.”
A long conversation ensued…what did he mean… a speck? He went on to explain that a speck was like in Horton Hears A Who, that it is something so tiny it’s hard to even know it’s there…”Kinda’ like a whoosh.” he said.
I’m pretty proud of myself for taking the leap. I stop myself from doing a lot of things because I lack the confidence. But I’m feeling a little daring these days.
What could be next?
I’m excited to find out!