Lately I have been questioning myself. I have been questioning my ability to bolus and count carbs correctly.
The news of Alec Temple passing away in the night from a diabetic seizure really scared me.
Then reading blogs and seeing how others meticulously count carbs…and weigh…I don’t do things so scientifically. I’ve been wondering where I get my confidence from. How do I count and guess carbs so nonchalantly? I think it is because that is the way we were taught. Back in 1998 the nutritionist purposely taught us how to estimate. That is all I know. Sure we used to measure every single bite that went into J’s mouth…but we were encouraged to count carbs on our own. Use the book when there is a new food. Measure if you are not sure. But otherwise…make an educated guess.
And now, all of a sudden, that scares me. I am scared I will count incorrectly, or over bolus. I am second guessing myself all over the place, and for a few days I was under blousing “just in case.” I don’t want my child to pass out…or worse. I know we all feel the weight of this disease on our shoulders…but one mistake…just one mistake and things can get scary.
So, I’ve been extra nervous…which we all know helps nothing. Extra nervousness only makes things extra worse. So since I am a logical, and I like to think, kinda’ smart person…I have been talking myself off the ledge and building up my confidence with the fact that I have done it this long, I have nothing to be overly worried about. So I went back to being aggressive with my boluses, and for the most part all has been well. The boys have been having a lot of lows since our last endo appointment. Our doctor made A LOT of changes, but we have been adjusting…and have been successfully catching the lows before they get TOO low.
Until the day before yesterday.
We were at my in laws and Lawton alerted us just 15 minutes after dinner. My husband and I rolled our eyes…he probably has to pee. So my husband went and opened the back door and called him. Lawton looked at me reluctantly and went outside. Usually he won’t go unless he has to “do his business” so we figured that is what he was alerting us to. By the time Lawton got back inside we were getting jackets on and heading out the door. Usually we don’t rush home, but my 9th grader had homework to do…so we ran out and headed home.
We were home maybe a half hour when B came in. “Mom, what does low mean?”
“What are you talking about honey?”
“I just checked my sugar and it says low…here, see…L-O.”
I tore the cupboards open looking for juice…we don’t keep it in the house. I know we should, but honestly we very ,very rarely, like hardly EVER, get a number under 60. I poured out the Halloween candy and threw him some Smarties…"start with this…eat them all fast"…then I found YoGos and dumped them into his hand. My husband remembered he had a Capri Sun in the car, so J ran out and got that. B drank and ate…and came up to 68 pretty quickly.
Crap!!! Crap. Crap. Crap.
The psychology of a medical alert dog is pretty easy to understand. If he doesn’t get a treat for alerting…it is over. He won’t alert. He had alerted me earlier in the day while we were out and about, and I had nothing to give him for a reward. He wasn’t happy. And then for him to alert later, and us ignore him…in his eyes, they game wasn’t being played…so he wasn’t going to alert us again. I absolutely take for granted all the peace of mind he gives us. How many extreme lows were averted because of him? Probably hundreds. He catches the boys’ drops usually before they hit the 70’s. He keeps them safe…and I need to be very careful to make sure he always knows the game is on. He plays the game for the treat. He plays for the love and the accolades.
Last night Lawton finally alerted again…and you can bet your glucagon stash that we gave him a giant treat and partied it up.
The game is back on.