The things we forget

Back in the beginning of August (Angels singing), our Sweets went off to diabetes camp. I was so chill about the whole thing and said to the doctor in her cabin, “Change what you’ve got to change. You’ll learn soon enough that she’s super sensitive to activity and those basal rates and carb ratios she walked in with will be a thing of the past.”

Fast forward to pick up and we take a look at some not-so-horrible lows, which are really not-so-great lows for running all over God’s green earth with wild abandon. There were a few late night runs to the med tent too, and much worry over being sent home. A change was made. We were told. We got this nifty paper. We were told that we should hang tight for the next day “just to be sure.” And, we decide right then and there that a tough week of high school band camp was coming up, so we’re better off keeping those changed basal rates.

Then we forgot. Completely took the train to forgetfulville and decided to stay there. Until today. Last night I was up doing temp basal increases, and pushing units like crazy. I think I went to bed around 3:15. And if I hurry with this post, I might beat that time tonight!

Today, right before dad comes for our Friday night kiddo transfer, I say, “Hey, let’s review those basals and make some changes for that 3am spike. So tell me what midnight is.”


“WHAT!?” Are you sure that wasn’t .9? Aren’t you supposed to be .9 at midnight?”

“OH, GOD MOM. Camp.”

So, there you have it. Crazy, stupid busy schedules lead to crazy, stupid busy brains that forget. You’d think that any one of the four of us would have caught on to this quicker.

Week 1 post camp: High school band camp from 7:30 a.m – 11:00 p.m. + girly business going on. Highs. Mom spends 10 brain twisting hours a day working in the band hallway and fitting uniforms on 110 incredibly stinky kids.

Week 2 post camp: High school starts. And, I feel like I’m sending enough paperwork in for twins or triplets. Yeah, triplets is more like it.

Week 3 post camp: Numbers are better, but let’s not get comfy in the 200s shall we? What the heck is going on? Look at that spike! Push, push, push the insulin.

This is diabetes. A flawed system of diabetic variables, care-giving, and trying to rely on¬†having “with it” brains that just…aren’t.¬†

Tomorrow is another day.

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I've spent a lot of time in front of doctors, but I am NOT one, although I am without a doubt the best nurse my daughter's ever had. Only there's no degree involved and my payment is made in hugs and respect (mostly).

No content of this site should be taken as medical advice. If you read anything of interest that you'd consider trying yourself - don't be silly! Consult your doctor for the best course of action.

Who I’m Reading Right Now

Sharon C. Written by:

Night Owl Crackerjack - juggling the needs of two talented and witty teenagers (one a T1D), one terrific husband, and my own adventures in a complicated life that's still good.