Type 1 Diabetes is truly a game of numbers.
It’s a terrifying experience.
It’s a balancing act. High blood sugars can cause death. Low can too.
Last night we experienced the low. At midnight I was woken up by Peanut:
“Mom, she needs you. She needs you now.”
Groggy and half awake I get out of bed. I find The Middle sitting on her bed.
“What’s the matter, honey?”
“I’m 50, and going down with three arrows.”
Fifty is low, fifty is dangersouly low. Three arrows means she’s dropping, and dropping fast. Type 1 diabetics can go unconscious with a blood sugar around 50. If she passed out, we may not be able to bring her back.
“Peanut, go get a glass of juice. Make sure it’s full.”
We have an emergency backup, something called Glucagone. But we couldn’t find it. It was nowhere to be found. I started to panic internally, but knew I had to keep a brave face. We gave her more juice, a granola bar, and some apple sauce.
We waited, we waited fifteen excruciating minutes. The longest fifteen minutes of my life. My brain is whirling with things I would need to do if we couldn’t bring her back up. If she passed out, that could be the end. We could lose her.
My brain was working overtime, thankfully the anxiety that usually cripples my daily life took a backseat to the emergency in my hands:
“The ambulance station is literally around the block, they could be here in minutes. My Dad could meet us at the er, if we need. I know where my purse and keys are.”
Finally, the fifteen minutes needed for the sugars to react is over.
She’s come back up, but is still trending with three arrows, and still has active insulin. So, we’ve got another waiting game of fifteen minutes, but i can breathe. We’ve overcome the dangerous low and can relax just a little.
Peanut grabs a deck of cards and the two of them play a game of “Go Fish”. It kept everyone calm.
After another fifteen minute wait, we’ve discovered that she’s back in range. Everyone can breathe again, and get some sleep.
Damn you, diabetes. Damn you.