We did everything we could. He just wouldn’t ever come down.
This was a night from hell.
Shot #1.
519 at bedtime. He was in no mood for a shot. He became irrational - fighting us.
"Do you want to be 500 all night?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to spend the night in the hospital?"
"Yes."
He knocked his head on the wall repeatedly as I searched for a spot to stick him.
"Charlie!"
Shot #2
Midnight. Blood sugar soared back up after coming down just a bit.
"Not good," I called to Susanne.
Half asleep, he yelled as if warding off an attacker.
"Get away from me!"
He then tensed up, absorbing the syringe that plunged into his bottom.
Shot #3
3 am. Even higher than before. The insulin is seemingly impotent. A placebo.
I made an attempt for the back of his arm but he opened one eye and flinched. "Not again! he cried. Blood from one finger to check sugar. Blood from another to check ketones. Another shot in his butt. He’s been abducted by this wretched disease. We are aliens, probing him in his sleep.
By morning we could only hope that shot #3 did the trick. But, as I mentioned, this was a night from hell. Nights from hell don’t mess around. Still high and presenting large ketones, shot #4 came with a small prayer and little resistance from Charlie, who desperately did not want to miss ice hockey; an almost absolute certainty.
We filled him up with fluids for the next two hours and monitored ketones via blood and pee. We rubbed our eyes and asked each other, "How long has it been?"
Remarkably, the ketones vanished quicker than we thought they would and our night from hell was finally over.
Until next time; when the aliens return for more.
Oh Carey. This is such a sad story. I'm sorry that you and Charlie have to go through this. Sending you good thoughts.
I predict a really bad cold in your future (although I hope not) Hope you have caught up on your sleep! Hugs to Charlie - and you and Susanne - you guys ROCK!
michelle, trevsmom - thanks very much!
How frusterated for you, and of course Charlie. When he get's older,he will thank you. I love to read your posts.
Carey I only wish I had parents as awesome as you when I was growing up with Type 1. I had to learn a lot of things the hard way and I am amazed at the involvement you and your wife have. Charlie is so lucky to have you, even if he doesn't know it at 3am when you're wielding a syringe :)
As a parent with a 13 year old type 1, I sympathize with your ordeal. Trying to stick a needle into a very resistant, panicked, crying child can make you feel like the most terrible person in the world.