So it started out pretty innocently. B was 327 before bed. Considering B has been on the low side of normal at bedtime for the last three months, I took it as a fluke and corrected him. He had just had a bath disconnected from his pump. Crazier things have happened. (PS This was the same night my husband was out of town, and I had to change L’s set myself…leading to the previous post, So can I.)
So anyway. High number. Correct. Done and Done.
Well two hours later…327. Again. HMMMMM…weird. I’m tired. Correct. Done and done??
Two hours later…317. He moved. I’m obviously stupid or something because I correct and go back to sleep.
Two hours later…321. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Ok! I get the hint. It is four in the morning and something isn’t right. So since I was delirious with exhaustion…and was due to get up in one hour, I gave him a shot. My brain was not in the zone enough to do an entire set change.
4:00am: Gave him a shot. Corrected. Done and Done!!
5:00am: He is 258. FINALLY! We have entered back into the earth’s stratosphere! Sa-weet!
7:00am: Wake up B. He is 52. Wow, I’m really doing a bang up job today. Who has the mom of the year trophy on their shelf? Send it my way. I’ve so earned it after this night.
But I’m not done yet! I’m on a roll! I make another stupid a** decision.
I changed B’s set…but did not change out the reservoir. He still has A LOT insulin in there people. Throwing out insulin in this house is like throwing out a solid gold bar. You just don’t do it.
I DID go to prime and enter in a half unit. I lifted the ring up to the light and saw that indeed, the insulin was coming out! New inset…insulin coming out. HELLO! It should be good right??!
So then I make stupid a** decision number one million. I decide to not give him insulin for breakfast, and just to correct his number as he is walking out the door. Where do I come up with this stuff? He was…SURPRISE!! 307. (Why Oh why did I do this? I have never done this before. What was wrong with me!)
Writing this is embarrassing friends. The string of stupid decisions run long and deep here.
So I correct that number instead of blousing for breakfast and get a call at snack announcing the number of…you won’t believe it, well, at this point you probably will…327. (It is at this time I am wondering if it is Groundhog Day. Haven’t I seen this number before???)
So the insanity continues as I think, “Meri, you under bolused him for breakfast. He will correct and he will be fine. “ So I tell him…correct and check in an hour. If you are still high, I’ll come get you.
One hour later. High.
Yes. HIGH. He is so high…there is no number to display.
So mom of the year, who was nakie when she answered the call because she had to jump out of the shower to get it, said…”I will be there in 20 minutes. DON’T EAT LUNCH!”
I FINALLY get there. I sign him out in the office and tell the secretary there was some sort of pump problem. He’s high and I’m taking him home to get things under control. So the secretary asks me how high he was.
“Yeah, but what was the number?”
“Too high to register.”
At the very same moment her mouth fully dropped to the floor, B walked in the office door and I instantaneously swung around and shot him in the arm with the four units of insulin from the syringe in my hand.
I smiled and walked out. She was still a statue…dumbfounded, trying to register the fact that B was that high.
You would think he would be pale. You would think he would be feeling sick. But there he was, bouncy happy B.
“You’re probably not hungry for your lunch anyway.” I said.
“No,” said B. “You’re right; I don’t want my ham sandwich. I would rather have a burger.”
Guilt makes mama’s do crazy things. So I got him that burger and as we sat down to eat I reflected over the day. Every decision I made…was one that I wouldn’t normally make. What was happening to me? I am a smart woman. I am an okay pancreas. What was I thinking?
Whatever it was…I sat eating that burger with my son who was still in the 400’s and decided that was my last bad decision of the day. And it was.
He came down quickly. That four units was twice the amount he needed to come down, so I knew that all would be ok. But I wanted to get this all down on my blog to let you all know…that Our Diabetic Life is not all unicorns and rainbows. We have stupid days around here like everyone else. Unfortunately, this stupid day was brought to you exclusively by my laziness and my stupidity.
In my defense, I’m pretty sure when my husband leaves on business trips…he takes my brain with him.
I don’t know how he does it.
But as any good wife would tell you, I’ve decided it’s all his fault. He should know better than that.