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Monday, February 1, 2016

The Toe Is A No Go

Perhaps I shoulda warned him before doing it.

Maybe a little heads-up woulda been the appropriate thing to do?

I'm not sure what good toe poking etiquette entails.  In hind sight, initializing a toe-poking-protocol on a sleeping subject is probably not the proper procedure.

Yesterday morning around 6:57-ish, the house was still sleeping; well everyone, but me.  I was headed out for my morning run.  Joe's Dexcom was showing a 67 and diagonal-downing.  A check was warranted on the sleeping Joe.

I entered his room and readied the glucometer with the test strip.  While wielding the lancing device, I assessed the target situation.  Joe was dead asleep with both hands tucked under his head, making his finger tips unavailable.  I noted his toes, peeking out from under his blanket, were easily accessible.

Pry fingers from under his head...wake him up?

Poke toe...maybe he sleeps?

Fingers?

Toes?

Welp, I haven't tried to poke his toes since he was like 4.  Let's just say I tried to yesterday morning...and... he did not sleep through it and as his leg briskly recoiled, he might have said something like "for the love of all that is good and holy..!" (but with different nouns and verbs).

I wanted him to sleep in.  He's growing.  He's tired.  He was up late the previous night.  He's up, due to diabetes nonsense, more often than not these days.  Note to self:  poking his toes will not help him sleep in.

I then poked the kinda-awake-and-kinda-annoyed-Joe's finger. A 99 was obtained.  The basal rate was decreased by 40% x 1 hour.  I ran.  Once I arrived home, a smooth 122 graced the Dexcom screen.

Waking Joe, via the toe, while simply trying to manage the day-in-the-life.

Saturday, January 30, 2016

Sub Flub

"Did it bother you?"

"No mom, I was OK with it..  ..  It really wasn't a big deal."

A couple of afternoons ago...

Joe was sharing about his school day.  He had a substitute teacher in one of his classes.  His Dexcom started donging off "Meep-Meep-Meep style" indicating a low I presume, from the history of numbers.


One of Joe's classmates started teasing Joe...stating he should put his "cell phone" away.  The students were trying to rattle the sub, not tease Joe per-se.  Another Meep-Meep-Meep and from the sounds of it, the substitute teacher was not impressed with Joe and his ding-donging cell phone.  She asked Joe to put his cell phone away promptly or she would be referring him to the Principal's office. 

 Joe then took a deep breath and went into the abbreviated version of he has type 1 diabetes and the ringing noise was from his continuous glucometer called a Dexcom.  Joe said the substitute then apologized and he added she was quite nice.

This is the third time something like this has happened this year.

I admired Joe's willingness to openly explain his medical condition and the technology that accompanies it in front of his peers to the substitute teacher.  He didn't appear to be too bothered by it.  To him it's part of it, of having t1d, the explaining himself.  Frankly, he knows no differently.

He will be put in this position where he needs to explain himself; to stand up for himself; to advocate for himself.  I think that is part of life for all of us.  Society does not need to handle Joe with kid gloves.  Friends, family, and strangers should feel comfortable to ask questions in a respectful manner.  I suppose... I guess what kinda bothered me about this situation for Joe is it was a potentially embarrassing scenario he was left to deal with, on his own, during the already awkward-y place called Middle School.  Not.Too.Cool.

I figured if I could lessen the frequency of events like this it was worth a try.  So, I emailed Joe's school nurse and requested the teachers add a note about his CGM to their sub binders.

Trying to save him a little bit of explaining about his day-in-the-life.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Oh YAY! A First!

In all our years in dealing with diabetes, we haven't encountered this one yet.  I knew we were due.  I knew someday it would happen.

Yesterday...

"I cannot believe I have to use ... th..i...s."

Joe spoke about it like it was a dirty dish rag.  He was disgusted by it.  Between the process of manually entering in a BG and the fact that his arm was tethered to it with "little-boy" lengthed tubing, he felt it was archaic.  

To hear him talk about an Animas pump so negatively made me feel like I was listening to gossip about my BFF.  I let him know the Animas pump was the only pump I was comfortable placing him on when he was a 3 year old.  I let him know those little, ity-bity basals of 0.025units/hr gave me peace of mind.  I let him know I did not like him talking about our first pump in this manner.  
 
 
So ... as you may be gathering by now... Joe's Omnipod pump failed yesterday afternoon.  As in failed, I mean it had a PDM alarm, I reset it, and it went into some sort of death spiral; the screen transitioned from the happy blue/green/white "Omnipod" screen -> then to an all white poltergeist-y-like screen -> and then to an all black screen.  A phone call was made.  Customer support confirmed my hunch, the PDM was a goner; a new PDM would be over-nighted.

Joe was horrified over the re-setting procedure.  He could not believe the proper procedure was to stick a paper-clip (or equivalent) end into the little hole at the bottom of the battery compartment. 

"What kind of a re-set plan is that, just to poke something around in that hole?"

"I didn't make the pump Joe, I don't know."

"OK".  

Meanwhile... an hour before hockey practice, at dinner time, I've got a 300 and double-arrow-upping Joe, who is no longer hooked-up to insulin.  We had to get a back-up diabetes plan initiated ASAP. Good times.  At first he was dead set against the Animas pump (an old one I've held onto), but shots did not seem to be acceptable either.  

After weighing his options, he decided to pump. He would only place a site in his arm; the only place he uses the PODs, as well.  Unfortunately, the length of tubing was from when he was like a 3,4,5,6,7,8, and 9 year old.  So,  with his pump in a pant pocket..and the site in his arm.. his arm is kinda limited in maneuverability.  This was not even close to optimal in Joe's eyes, but it's only for one day, he conceded.

He's been disconnecting for any sort of physical activity, you know...so he can like ... ah ...  use his arm.  

I did end up at his school today.  The pump lost prime; he disconnected and proceeded to prime out the entire cartridge of insulin; Right.Before.Lunch.  There was a sub-nurse at his school.  He was not about to let her inject insulin and he's never done it.  So he held off on lunch for an hour and waited for me to arrive to get his pump situated.

"My day was going good until this issue."

"What makes it so bad now?"

"I guess nothing.  You're right Mom, this didn't ruin my day ... but it is annoying."
 
Very true.  It's annoying Joe.  
 
It's right now 7pm the following day.  I guess overnight doesn't really mean overnight.  We don't have a new PDM here.  We leave for Quebec City at 6am on Friday for a hockey tournament.  I sure hope the PDM makes it by then.
 
A day-in-the-life of missing our Omnipod.