Ding Ding Ding!

Diabetes is fickle.

What a difference a day makes.    

Here I was having a rest on my haunches.  Taking a win I didnt deserve.  Now diabetes has been kicking my butt around the ring.  Upper cut. hook. jab.cross. jab in quick succession.   The combo leaves me laying on the canvas, spent and wondering if his blood sugar will ever rise. 

Im waiting to do my 6th BGL in 5 hours.   This monitoring is tedious.  Constant.  Annoying.   Glucose syrup should work, surely?  Im highly irritable because I havent slept a wink.  Yet somehow, somehow I must get up, wipe the sweat off my gloves and go another 12 rounds with diabetes.  

(Or at least fight my way to school drop off, gymboree class and the grocery store for essential supplies! while managing diabetes, even though Id rather crawl into bed and pull the doona over my head and not get up!)

You know I do want to throw in the towel some days when Im physically and mentally exhausted and doubting myself and my ability to manage D for the Hurricane -  but who will get in the ring in my place?   He relies on me to fight this for him.

You know when you have a supposed friend.   And the friend mistreats you and leaves such a bad taste in your mouth - you are ready to move on to greener pastures?  You want to stop taking their calls. You delete their texts. But I cant avoid D. I have to continue to ring that friend. Spend time with it, check in on it.  Think about it, plan for it and make way in my life when all I want to do is dump it on its sorry a$$.  

I co-habit with diabetes.   Some days I am positive and upbeat about what has to take place and the rest Im overwhelmed and doubtful about my abilities to do this at all.    I am results driven and I hope for some decent control for Reuben, for his health, and Im left wondering how to get from A to B.   I feel like I need a cornerman to help me put my gloves back on, squirt water in my mouth, rub my shoulders and tell me Im going to knock this thing out in the 3rd. 

I feel entirely frustrated when I  serve him up breakfast, watch him play with his oatmeal like any normal 17month old child does (and refuse to eat mind you unless hes weilding the spoon himself!) then I have to halve the dosage, halve again, and halve again and find its well under the dosable amount.   Im frustrated that we watch morning BGL's climb in what appears to be new morning insulin resistance?  Im frustrated that just when I think theres a pattern emerging and I understand his little body and the effect foods and exercise have on him, and the timing of his insulin and the amounts - BANG - a sneaky punch I didnt see coming; I didnt duck in time; I didnt counter it.  Flat on my back.

Ugh.


Man, I have so much to learn.  

*Dragging self back into the ring*

{Off to check the effects of the last big dollop of glucose syrup. Incidentally have to keep my nurse hat on a bit longer this morning my eldest got up and sliced some skin off his finger... hope Danger Dad has some bandaids....}