I heard my bedroom door bang open and lights suddenly filled my room. My youngest son was standing over me thrusting his pump into my sleeping face.
“What does this mean?”
“Its telling you how many carbs you need to correct your low. Are you low?”
“No I’m high.”
Now I was puzzled. What the heck did he mean that he was high when the pump was telling him to eat? The answer was relatively simple. It turns out that he was higher still earlier in the evening. He had corrected and now the pump felt that he was dropping way too fast and he needed a lot of carbs to cover the drop.
I told him not to worry about it. I would try to wake up and test him in a few hours.
“A few hours!!!! Are you kidding? I could be dead by then!!!” my son’s pitch quickly escalated to panic and I was mildly amused.
“You won’t die. You wake up to your lows now remember?”
“I woke up to a few! It was a fluke!! You can’t risk my life because I might wake up! You have to stay awake. You have to test me!!!”
Yes, I was enjoying torturing him. He never takes diabetes seriously. He rarely ever shows concern about any diabetes related emergencies (or much else actually). This was an entire new spin on a disease that we have lived with for too long. Normally it was me freaking out at him!
Finally, I felt bad for him (and actually began to wonder if the pump could be right and we were heading for a serious drop). I told him to have a sandwich and not bolus for it. I would test him later.
He stomped off to the kitchen and got some food. I then heard him head back into his room where he continued his tirade with his older brother as his new audience. I could hear him stating that he could die and his brother had better stay awake because his mother wasn’t! And did he mention that he could DIE!
I am pleased to state that he did not die. The sandwich he ate kept him up through any unforeseen peaks in his insulin. I didn’t get a lot of sleep and but we both made it through another sleepless night with diabetes!