We're in the process of testing out a quite rigid routine of eating with Reubs (and the other kids) in hopes of lowering his hba1c.  I guess what it boils down to is if the tools we have arent working out, and weve done our best, then its off to the pump.    Its hard because the child has so many hypos, you'd think his overall measures would be lower.   This truly is the best course of action, for Reuben, my fears and reservations aside, he learns better and behaviourly a treasure -  when hes in range.

Hubby discussed with the endo actually getting fast tracked through another hospital, and being slightly out of pocket, we could be pumping within 4 weeks if we say the word.   SO- Im working on a plan of 12 weeks of this strict living (probably easy and normal for alot of you, but a learning curve for me and my crew!).

Thanks for your comments on my last post, its the push I needed to get moving.    So tell me what you think of this idea.   Reubs is 15kg (33lbs for you in pound-land), so he needs roughly 500cals a day(?) well, thats what Im working with anyway.

That equates to (another rough) estimate of 60grams of carbohydrates spread out over a day.  Im thinking to make it easy to start just give the main meals 15g each, 1 serve, and see how he goes actually digesting this food.   I think this part will be challenging.  He loves to play with food stuffs so it could be disastrous.   But hey, I gotta try.

Then Ive (on paper) allocated 7gram snacks to morning tea, arvo tea, and supper I imagine these ones to be easily done as its part of his grazing habit now.   So thats a grand total of 45 grams at mains and 21 grams at snacks equalling 66grams for the day.

Im testing out an I:C ratio of 1u NR: 2serves of carbs.    Our correction factor seems right on for now, so im leaving that as 1/2 u NR reduces blood glucose by 4mmol/l.   Sick of the sliding scale system!  

A post with no name

Im going through a stage where I dont exactly recognise myself.

Im not wanting to think about diabetes any more than I have to, yet I do think about it all the time!   Where I go through the motions of what I need to do, yet theres more and Im too tired to face it so Im on autopilot.

Am I alone in this exhaustion?

The three monthly appointment was so stressful for me I literally ran the opposite direction and let my dear husband handle it.   He says to the endo that I interpret their manner as criticism.   I probably have to grow up.   But where do I get those additional rescources from?  We are on the same team, afterall but the tools they've given us arent working.  I want to cry when I almost beg them for an I:C and am told no, a sliding scale will do. 

The waiting in the queue.  S T R E S S.   Too much , that I dont need.   A two hour wait with 2 kids under 3.    OH dear Lord.   Who is this person?

Ive had to cut so much extra baggage in my life in order to handle diabetes.   People.  Activities.  As Ive said previously, drama (that comes with the people) and the like - all gotta go.   I look at it like a sinking ship, its going down slowing, a pin prick in the bottom, but surely as day turns to night, the water is seeping in.   So you GET RID of baggage.   Off the side of the boat it goes!  

Sadly, my blog has also taken a back seat, not permanently, just so I can come up for air.

Ive been in a camping chair, kicking back, watching the storm clouds roll in and scoping out our new chickens, Polly, Molly and Dolly, scratching around their new coop.   Now, they have to be the easiest and calmest backyard pets.   Im envious of the simplicity of their lives.  

not quite ready to manage his own D care

Recently I celebrated a birthday.   Lets just say Im not young enough to bother insisting on gifts and big hoo-har, but old enough to think for a few seconds to quickly calculate how old I actually am this year.    I slapped together a choccy cake and dug around in one of my plastics drawers crammed with egg slicers and milk frothers and came up with a single candle and a 'Happy Birthday' sign to perch on top of the ganache.

We sang Happy Birthday over that one little pink candle, which took all the kids will power not to blow out, I snuffed it myself, wishing that a cure for Reuben and all people living with type 1, was imminent.   I had tears welling up my eyes and an ache in my heart.   Im intensely proud of my little family.   The cheeky little faces smiling at me, clambering over the kitchen bench and trying to hide the icing on their fingers, which proved beyond all doubt they had already snuck a taste. 

Good times.

Fast forward to the next morning, making a round of warm drinks for the family.    Reuben is perched up on the counter, which I often let him do after he fetches the bottle of milk from the fridge, so he can help me count out the coffee, milo and sugar spoons as they get divided into the respective cups.  

Im not paying too much attention to him as he reaches for something, and I see him turning and shifting from 'cheek to cheek'.    Thats entirely odd.    I say to him  Whats in your hand, Reubs?
Hes chatting away, like any happy kid playing but what he says strikes me.
Ouch...sharp.
I pause.
Noodles...Teester.
Whatta?
Did my baby just say needle.  Tester?

What is that Reuben, show Mummy.

Hes still like a dog chasing his tail, trying to reach his left buttocks.

He has the little pink candle in his hand.   Partly burnt down from last night.   He is trying to administer 'medicine' to himself with this prop.