We hit a new low today.
Hazel’s Dexcom was in the two hour warm up time (we weren’t getting blood glucose readings). I checked her finger 45 minutes before this and her blood glucose was 146. She was watching Daniel Tiger and I was having a second cup of tea—a quiet moment after the first day of school frenzy. She came over to me and asked for yogurt. It was almost time for lunch, so I said she could have it with her lunch. Then she tried to walk back to the couch and she couldn’t. She stumbled and fell—looking altered. I picked up my now crying child and instead of holding and comforting her I poked her finger. Her blood glucose level needs to be above 70. This level is low enough that she was having trouble functioning. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a spoonful of honey and shoved the dripping honey in my still crying child’s mouth. Then, after I got some of the honey in her (and all over both of us and the couch), I held her, comforted her, and watched her (and eventually took this pic).
Five minutes later I did another check and she was up to 55. The crisis was averted. Within 15 minutes Hazel was feeling fine. She ate her lunch, had a nap, and joked about how I talked to her when she fell on her tummy.
Most of the time we are able to run diabetes in the background, but sometimes it comes crashing into the forefront. These moments remind me of how delicate the balance is. Tonight at dinner we were recounting our “golden moments” of the day. Everyone had so many. I realized that despite the crisis moments, we have a good life—that despite the horror of that moment it didn’t define the day anymore than diabetes defines Hazel.