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Boo was seen by the pediatrician today. I was afraid I was going to have to fight with the guy to get him to take me seriously, but he sort of agreed with me. He debated doing an a1c test on her, but thought that it might be inconclusive since, if she does have diabetes, she'd be in the very early stages of it. He reeled off the symptoms (as though I've never seen them before) and said that since the only one she had was peeing a lot, he wasn't that worried. Well, dood, I'M worried and I'm the mama so run a test, do something. The conclusion is that I'm going to test Boo before every meal and at the two- and three-hour post-prandial marks. If there is a pattern of sugars over 200, I'm to call back. He said within a week, but if I see it for more than two days, I'm calling back. Screw that.
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(This post is from mid-August - I'll post the updates over the remainder of the week.)
Most parents I know, who have a child with diabetes, worry about any of their other kids getting a diabetes diagnosis. Most will check blood sugars on their other kids on a semi-regular basis. I know I've done it.
The last few days have filled me with concern, though. Olivia has an older brother and two younger sisters. Over the last three or four days, Boo, the nearly-three-year-old, has woken up soaked in pee. I'm talking, peed thru a diaper with a pull-up over it, drenched from armpits to knees, sheets, blankets and pillows soaking wet. Immediately, my first thought was diabetes. I checked her blood sugar two days ago and she was 68, which seems on the low side, actually.
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"Come on, baby, hop up here. I need to check your sugar."
"No, mama, no check sugar." She cries and tries to hide her fingers in her clenched hands.
"Yes, honey, we have to. I know you don't like it, but we have to do it."
"I don't yike it," she replies.
"I know, but the doctor says we have to do it." She loves the doctor, so she complies, gingerly holding out a finger.
I cock the lancing device and push the button. She flinches as the spring thwongs the lancet into her tiny, little finger. Crimson blood pearls out on to the test strip, the meter beeps and does its quick backwards count from five.
She sticks her finger in her mouth, sucking the blood off, as she's seen her big sister do countless times. Then she holds the finger up to me.
"You tiss it, mama."
I kiss her finger and tousle her hair.
"Put a yid on it, mama."
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My daughter Maeve rode Izzy, a chestnut brown teenager. I followed closely behind on Summer, a horse with a slightly darker coat and a hankering for roadside grass.
Just to see what would happen, I foolishly made the little "click, click" sound with my tongue on the roof of my mouth and gave a slight kick to Summer's sides as they do in the movies. Amazingly, it worked. She responded with a trot. Not so amazingly, the trot seemingly chipped away at my ass bone – slamming me hard against the saddle with each excruciating gallop.
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Olivia has two half-sisters, whom I refer to online as Boo and The Bug. Boo is 3-1/2 years old and The Bug is 20 months. Both are healthy, although The Bug concerns me sometimes. There's nothing concrete there, it's just this vague, nebulous cloud of worry. Well, maybe not too vague; she does drink an inordinate amount of water. No ketones, no peeing thru the diaper on a regular basis, but the drinking incessantly thing niggles at the back of my brain.
Anyway.
When Boo was born, we participated in the
TRIGR study. That study is finished, but the
TrialNet study is ongoing. Every year, at camp, there is someone there from TrialNet, trying to get people to have their children tested. I haven't done it.
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In addition to the normal things I worry about (I worry. A lot.), like, did I remember to feed the dog and did I mail the cable bill, I worry about my kids. Why does The Bug only have three teeth, still, when she's a year old? Is she going to be the only toothless kindergartner? Will Boo ever learn to say
chocolate properly? (Don't follow that link unless you have a sense of humour.) Did I get everything on Olivia's back to school list? Is my son going to have that horrendous beard for the rest of his life? (Seriously. It's hideous. It's like pubic hair. Nasty.) But now I'm worrying incessantly about Isobel.
Maybe it's a fluke, maybe it's a urinary tract infection. Maybe she's just not peeing enough during the day and it's all coming out at night. Maybe maybe maybe.
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Boo was 208 this afternoon, four hours after having eaten anything. This really, really sucks. It's really starting to worry me. I brushed it off as maybe a urinary tract infection, but now, I'm starting to doubt it. Everything is pointing towards diabetes, and if her pediatrician won't see that, I will find another pediatrician.
I feel overwhelmed at times by this. Part of me knows that I can handle it but the other part of me wants to just cry at the thought of another child with diabetes. I get upset when I hear about any kid getting diagnosed, but now that the likelihood is that it will be my kid. My little Boo, who cries when I poke her, whose little hands I have to pry open in order to stick them with the lancet. Jesus, do you know what that does to me? I want to cry right next to her, but I don't. I can't. I'm afraid that if I start, I'll never stop.
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Well, the last two days, Boo has been running in the 90s. One reading of 114. I have no clue what's going on, but I really hope the highs were an aberration. I'm going to continue to check her three or four times a day for the next couple of weeks, just to make sure. Even once I get the all clear, I'll probably still do checks a couple of times a day.
It's weird, though. Now I'm left to worry if this is pre-diabetes or if she had some sort of low-grade virus that was spiking her sugar or what. I'll be calling the doctor tomorrow, unless, of course, she spikes a couple of highs in the mean time. I'm going to tell him what I'm doing and hopefully he'll agree that it's a good idea.
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"Yeah, I'll do it," Maeve said, quickly unzipping the black diabetes bag and removing the contents onto her lap.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
She was a little too eager to get her hands on a sharp foreign object and take blood from her little brother. Maeve cracked open an alcohol wipe and rubbed Charlie's fingertip then loaded the meter with a test strip, deftly juggling the instruments. She had never done it before, but she's witnessed it , (one sec whilst I do a little math) , about 17,500 times. It's an unusual thing for an 8-year-old to do. Not your normal car trip activity such as I Spy or the license plate game.
"Just put the striped part into the ..."
"Uh huh. I know."
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I found this post recently in a diabetes forum.
Topic: Juvenile diabetes
A dear friend of mine has an 8 week old that was not thriving. She ruled out heart issues early on, but recently he became seriously ill. Upon further investigation, he was diagnosed as diabetic! Never heard of a baby with diabetes. His eight siblings are all fine. They have also tested for pancreatic insufficiency. He's just plain old diabetic. Thank goodness!
A supportive member of the forum responds:
Oh good grief! So young!
Eight siblings? Sorry, I left out one important detail. It's about a dog; an 8-week-old English Springer puppy.
I'll admit, this post was originally going to have a slightly sarcastic edge to it as it was triggered by recent
FDL entries of pet owners who compared their dog or cat's diabetes to human beings living with the disease.
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