A1c It's Just Not for Me

It's A1c time again.  I've already got a headache thinking about it.  Because I know this time around the numbers won't be too good.  The last three months have included Christmas, New Years, and all kinds of events that have distracted me from playing Nurse Nelly the way I should.  This diabetes stuff is a full-time job and quite frankly it doesn't always get the attention it needs/deserves.

The A1c always feels like a report card.  Like a test of my motherhoodship.  My ability to defy the gravity of bloodsugars, tests, and carb counting every few hours-all while trying to hold down the regular life that the outside world sees.  It's a very exposing look at the last three months of my parenting.  I often think it would be refreshing, though deviously selfish on my part, to require mother's everywhere to take a blood test every three months that could tell how exact they were during that quarter on doing their job just right; on laundry, housekeeping, helping their kids with homework, feeding their family nutritious meals, etc.  I'd call the test a Mom1c.  This test would provide me with lots of nervous and grumpy mother's to bond with.

Seriously, it gives me a headache. And a massive guilt complex.

But, what it ALSO does do is give me a shot in the arm (be it a painful one).  Like going to see your parole officer (I really don't have one of those), it's the kind of sober meeting where you come away feeling like you can do better than you have been.  You can re-prioritize your life and give the most important things the attention it deserves.  You plan new tactics so that you won't get distracted.  And, for a blissful month (hopefully two) I really will do better. 

With that in mind...I'm off to see the doctor with two kids in tow.

POSTNOTE:

Just got back from visiting with the kid's endocrinologist and things went better and worse than expected.  One had a good A1c and the other?  Well...not so good.  Thankfully we have a very understanding doc who knows that teenagers don't always manage their diabetes with lifelong optimum health in mind.  I have found that it has always been easier managing diabetes in a child who's still dependent on their parents and not so easy as they get older and more independent.   But he gave some very very valuable advise: "Don't Give Up."  A timely token for a weary parent.  And so, we plan to keep our chins up and keep trying!

When Mom Leaves Town

In the crazy world of diabetes, things can get a little complicated when Mom goes to leave town.  Everyone in the house gets nervous as to just WHO gets to play nurse while I'm away.  It's almost like a game of Hot Potato.  They all tip-toe around hoping they won't be the one to get picked for the job, and if I do, then they're quick to pass the responsibility on by suggesting someone else!

Mark and I are leaving next week, so it's about time to start prepping everyone.  With both parents gone, the natural choice is to get Mitchell geared up to help change Chloe's pump site.  Then he can be confident enough to help Grandma when she's here.  He's the obvious choice since Mitch has been changing his own pump sites for years now.  The big issue is that Mitchell uses one kind of injector and Chloe uses another.  And the only thing they both agree on is their firm disagreement on whose injector is better!

So Yesterday when it was time to Change Chloe's site I called a very reluctant Mitchell over.  I don't think he really minded the idea of changing someone elses site as much as he minded changing CHLOE'S.  She might be a little tiny thing, but what she lacks in size she can certainly make up for with attitude!!  And poor Mitchell did not want to find himself on the wrong end of that!

Chloe was not very happy about the whole idea either.  I insisted that it would be good for her brother to know how her injector worked and that it would enable him to help Grandma during the week we're gone.  Tears began to flow but she decided this plan would be best after confessing that she's heard rumors that grandparents eye-sights are notoriously bad and that they all had "shaky hands"!  I bit down on my lip to stifle a giggle and quickly reassured her, then followed it all up with a brief lesson on the hazards of stereotyping people.  

I begin to show Mitchell how Chloe's kind of injector worked while he made comments about its inferiority to his.  I would show him something and he would point out something ridiculous about it.  I would show him something else and he'd furrow his brow. 

Finally...it was loaded, cocked, instructions were given, and now it was time to pull the trigger.  Chloe scrunched her face, Mitchell pressed the "rocket launcher" against her belly, aimed, then hesitated.  He just couldn't do it.  So I suggest that I'll count out loud to three so he'll work up the nerve to push the magic button.

"One...Two...Three!"

Nothing.  He just shakes his head.

"Come on," I say.  "You can do this, you do it all the time."  I coaxed.

Mitchell gives off a nervous whisper and says  "Yeah on myself!"

So I suggest I count again.  Chloe squinches up her face once more and I begin, "One...Two...Three!"

Nothing.  Again.

I let off a heavy sigh.  "One...Two...Three!!!"

Nothing.

"Just Shoot her!"  I urge.  "Pull the trigger."

At last he closes his eyes and gingerly presses the button.  Chloe stops squishing up her face, she looks relieved, then Mitchell looks relieved, and says, "Wow, that wasn't so bad."

And suddenly I realize I'm probably one of only a handful of parents in the world whose ever encouraged- even begged- one of her children to shoot their sibling!  Oh the crazy world of diabetes.

The Dryer Doesn't Lie

Caught ya! Actually, I'm not sure who I caught but I'm on the case and I fully intend to crack it wide open and sniff out the guilty party!

For the past few weeks I've been opening my dryer to find wads of candy wrappers in the door jamb and in the lint trap each time I go to dry kids clothes. This means someone's been eating copious amounts of unauthorized sweets. And since two of the three children left at home should be minding their carb counting, it feels a little more like finding something especially criminal.

Before bringing in the drug candy-sniffing dogs I'll try an easier method first.  Of course I know I could easily check the kid's pockets BEFORE putting them in the wash and that would pin point exactly who the culprit is. But the problem with that modus operandi is that I've gotten out of the habit of checking pockets ever since the great "Poison Oak Breakout" of '03.   I was so miserable that I vowed to have minimal contact with the laundry before it gets washed. So Im bound to forget to check the pockets first, I'm so out of practice.

My new tactic to sniff out the user? I'm gonna wash every kids laundry separately until I find out who's behind the "Great Carb Cover-up". Once I find the little addict, well, I'm not quite sure. But I bet I'll feel like an ace detective! You can't pull "Operation: Sneek Candy" into my house!

...I'm hoping it's Connor, in which case I'll ask him to bring me home some of the goods, especially if he's got chocolate. We can eat it together in the garage, then put all the wrappers in HIS pocket and hide the evidence!

Missed My Target

Thanks to caller-ID,  I have a mini heart attack each time I see the school's phone number pops up on the screen.  Not that we've ever had a lot of emergency calls from school, but even after all these years it's still my knee jerk reaction.  So when I saw the school's number today, I reasoned with myself that Chloe was just calling to ask a minor carb question or something of the sort and that it was about time I took it all in stride and was relaxed and casual about answering the phone.

It was Chloe.  She said, "Mom, you really need to keep a calendar."

"Why's that Chloe?" I responded.

"My pump is down to one unit of insulin, I think you forgot what day it was and that you needed to change my pump." she blurted.

"Oh...what's today?" I ask.  "Didn't we just put in a new reservoir on Sunday?"

"We changed it Saturday, and today is WEDNESDAY." she said patiently.

"Dang it!  You're right, I need to start writing this stuff down on a calendar!"  I agreed.   Then told her I would head down to the school right away.  I grabbed the bin full of supplies and headed for the door thinking this was exactly why I just can't ever be so relaxed when the school calls.

We sequestered ourselves in the front office over at the couches.  No one was around but our favorite school secretary Meg.  Poor Meg had no idea she'd add full-time school nurse to her resume.  After Chloe got diabetes, she's become our go-to gal.

Chloe and I quickly went through the routine of changing everything out.   

Happily, I can report that I'm getting the hang of it now and it comes pretty easy.  I still laugh thinking of all the years my kids have been pumping and how this is all so new to me.  Chey and Mitch both got their pumps when they were a lot older so I never got the chance to practice;  teenagers aren't too excited about letting mom help with anything but gas money.  

Chloe picked a new site, I sprayed a little numbing antiseptic, pressed the dang sil-serter-torpedo-launcher at her, and...completely missed my target!  Chloe is soo skinny that you really have to search for a spot that's not skin and bones.  And naturally, I hit the skin and bones!

My eyes widened, "Oh Chloe, I missed the spot!"

Chloe held up her hand to silence me.  "Don't talk right now mom, I'm trying not to scream." she said calmly.  She kept her hand raised for a whole minute and concentrated on not yelling out.  Poor thing.

"I'm so sorry." I pleaded.

"It's okay mom, I'm just concentrating on not screaming." 

We waited a bit more.

After an eternal pause she looks at me and said, "Oh that really hurt."  Then she added with a nervous giggle,  "I was worried I was gonna scream so loud EVERYBODY in school would hear me."

So today I learned not one lesson, but TWO:

1. I need to buy a wall calendar 
2. I'll never be a sniper, I've got bad aim.

Thank goodness for a kid that is patient with her mom...and for one that can hold back a good scream.

When Three Diabetics is a Good Thing

Hardly ever.

But that said, I must admit it does come in handy every once in a while.

The Three Bears Phenomenon
Because there's three, test time is quite unusual.  We've always got one who's too high, one too low, and another whose blood sugar is just right.  Depending on how you look at it, and we prefer to see the glass half full (admittedly though, this is sometimes quite a challenge to do), the positive side is that we've always got someone in the house right on target!  This is a good thing.

Problem Solving as a Group
 If there's a problem we've got to think through, someone else in the family has probably experienced it and has paved the way to a great answer.  This is also a good thing.  It was especially helpful to us yesterday when Mitchell's pump stopped working.

Over the past week, his pump has been going through new batteries like a fiendish addiction, often demanding fresh batteries every two or three days.  On Sunday night his pump shut off and gave him an A21 and then an A17 alert.  Luckily the good people at Medtronic are always available.  After having us clean the metal battery cap that makes contact with the battery, they decided to go ahead and ship out a new cap to try.

After hanging up the phone I realized Cheyenne had experienced this problem a few years back so I gave her a call.  Her advise?  Get a new pump.  She reminded me that when her pump did the very same thing it was not a faulty battery cap, in fact the cap was in great condition and looked perfectly new.  Replacing the battery cap only prolonged the length of time she was off the pump before getting a replacement pump she inevitably had to get to solve the problem.  After checking Mitchell's pump cap and finding it in pristine condition, we decided her advise would get the problem solved faster.

Luckily, his pump was still under warranty.  I quickly called them back and they were more than happy to send out a new pump.  Until then, we're back to the old school way of doing things.  But I've logged more years with a trusty old syringe than a pump, so we're well within my comfort zone.  Like revisiting an old friend (we've used over 20,000 of them). 

and lastly,

We've Got Our Lows Covered
Every once in a while someone goes low when they're unprepared.  Never a good thing, but it happens.  Once again, this allows another sibling to come to the rescue.  Everyone carries emergency supplies for lows but inevitably someone forgets to replenish their supplies (not naming names, but I will tell you this is usually a teenager).  The other day, said teenager experienced a low and was completely unprepared (exasperated gasp).  Chloe to the rescue!  She simply reached in her bag, pulled out a juice box, and voilia!  Problem solved.  Then she gave the above UNmentioned teenager the "low lecture", as only a nine year-old can do, and reminded her sibling of the dangers of being unprepared.  Not bad huh?  I've got built-in medic/spy.

Honestly, three kids with diabetes is overwhelming a lot of times.  But sometimes, every once in a while, it's a good thing.

I'll Take That as a Compliment

Last week when Chloe needed to change her pump reservoir, Cheyenne and Justice happened to be in town on a surprise visit for the weekend.  Currently, I'm the only one in the house that knows how to use the Sil-Serter (a.k.a. "The Torpedo Launcher") to insert her pump site.  Both Cheyenne and Mitchell use the Quick-Serter.  It just so happened I was sick and resting in bed, but as chance would have it, Justice uses the Sil-Serter so he offered to help Chloe change her pump site.  This was a great idea!  Son-in-Law to the rescue!  Except for one problem.  Chloe did not want him to do it.  She adores Justice and has him help her count carbs at meal time and such but she was NOT having him change her pump!  She wanted "mom to do it".

She came upstairs to find me in a flurry of Kleenex and NyQuil cups and informed me that I was the only one who was allowed to change her pump.  The funny thing is, that a few weeks ago, after first getting her pump, she would often suggest that we go back to the doctor's office and have her favorite nurse Maryanne change it each time.  During the first couple of weeks she was not real happy with the way I was getting the job done.  And honestly, in the entire span of my 16-year diabetes "career", this dang torpedo launching Sil-Serter gadget gizmo-thingy, well, it has me nervous each and every time I've had to use it!  So I found it quite amusing that she wanted ME to change her pump and not Justice, who's a pro.  Her conversation with me went a bit like this...

Chloe:  Mom I need to change my pump and I want you to do it.

Me:  Are you sure you don't want Justice to do it?

Chloe:  (furrowed brows) Yes, I'm sure!

Me:  Really?  Cause Chloe, he has way more experience at it than me.  He's been doing it for years.

Chloe:  So.

Me:  Seriously, you'd rather have me change it?

Chloe:  Yes mom.

Me:  Really?  Can I tell you something?

Chloe:  What?

Me:  I still get really nervous when I change that thing.  It freaks me out.  Are you sure Justice can't do it?   

(at this point I should probably admit that it is never a good idea to tell your child that you get nervous about any aspect of their diabetes care.  You want them to be confident in your care.  However, I think that under the influence of the above mentioned sniffling-sneezing-coughing-aching-stuffy-head medicine, well, let's just say it made me a lot more candid with her than I should have been!)

Chloe:  No mom.  I know you get nervous, but I trust you.  You do it really good.  Even when I scream.

Me:  Wow, you know that? and you still trust me? 

Chloe:  Yes, I only like you to do it.

Me:  Okay then (sneeze), let's go get the stuff.

Chloe:  smile

Mark says she's imprinted on me.  She won't even let him do it  (course, come to think of it, neither would I).  The strange thing is that I never get nervous about much of anything.  I'm fine with blood, guts, needles, skydiving, public speaking; not much gets me nervous.  But this Sil-Serter, this things' really got me!  It just looks so violent!  And here I thought I was putting on a brave face so Chloe wouldn't see my nerves, apparently she saw through it, but she doesn't care.  She trusts me!

I'll take that as a compliment.

Fridge Art?

Some friends came over the other day and pointed out the fact that the "fridge art" we unabashedly display on our fridge is quite unique.  I guess we're guilty there.  I suppose the stuff you display on the front of your fridge is usually the things you care most about, like your child's latest works of art, cherished photos, the phone number of your favorite pizza place.  And since the space there is pretty limited you've got to be choosy.  Only the most important things make it to the magnet.  It's a little like being the curator for the Louvre-you've only got so much square footage to display a world of meaningful things. 

So, if what goes on the fridge front can tell you a lot about the family, what does yours display?  Inspriational quotes?  Photo collages? Kindergarten art? Maybe even coupons.

Originally, my fridge was supposed to display absolutely nothing.  What does that say about us?  That I'm a neat freak?  Probably.  I made sure there was nothing on my fridge a magnet could stick to so I wouldn't collect a jumbled mess of trinkets on my fridge.  Unfortunately, that plan recently went awry.  Here's a closer look at what we've now got on ours...

Post-it Notes!  And what does this say about us?  Well, perhaps that we love food facts more than we love family photos.  It also says, that Chloe is trying really hard to memorize how many carbs are in her favorite foods so she can bolus for them without looking it all up each time.  So while we're on the steep learning curve, folks who come to visit us will get to enjoy valuable nutritional facts about our favorite things to eat!  We call it "Informational Food Art".