Posts tagged regular fingerpricking

The Repercussions of The Australian Summer versus Type 1 Diabetes.

I really don’t want to sound like Negative Nancy. After all, it’s the Christmas Holidays, we should be embracing our time together. School is over, Christmas Beetles chirp loudly at night, we can stay outside until at least 8pm-it’s such a relief to watch the sunset, and feel a cool breeze wash over us. Kids walk past our house and exclaim, “Merry Christmas, Lance’s Mum!!” It’s just a wonderful time of the year.

However, where Diabetes is concerned,  Numb November always blends into Dreaded December.

At this time of year, we suffer from blistering humidity. It becomes so overwhelming that you feel like you could almost suffocate. We have had 90% humidity in the air for about 10 days now, along with the Queensland sun burning its little heart out.  Lance’s Diabetes and summer have never been able to meet an agreement where they can give each other a break. We have had 3 out of six Christmases in the emergency ward..it’s SUCH a blessed relief when Summer turns into Autumn.

Last week, Lance woke up, visably hypo. He couldn’t sit up, and his words were slurring together as if he had been sipping vodka all night. I rushed for a handful of jellybabies, and began to speak loudly and in a sing-song-y voice to keep his attention. His eyelids were flickering, and each time I would call his name, he would jump a little, and smile at me. I managed to get him to have 4 jellybabies. He started drinking juice. I didn’t even bother with a blood test, because I knew I didn’t have time.

I lay beside Lance, and began rubbing his hair. He didn’t seem overly distressed, probably because he wasn’t really “with” me.  Then the twitches came.

The leg jerks.

The tightening of his fingers and toes.

A metre long strand of drool oozed from his mouth.

(I have dealt with Lance and seizures before..but I really wasn’t prepared for this one…)

I felt like I was trapped in quicksand. I couldn’t move my feet to grab the phone or the glucagon. I actually had to talk myself through what to do out loud.

First and foremost, I put him in the recovery position, and checked that he didn’t have a jellybaby hiding in his mouth. All clear.

A multi-coloured stain began to bleed onto the sheets from his drool. As I assembled a glucagon kit, I told him how much I loved him, and that I would always make it okay. and that would be all over soon.

I guess, as a result of the whole peripheral neuropathy diagnosis, I am very vulnerable at the moment. My face was awash with tears as  I planted a syringe full of mixed up glucagon into his thigh.

I then kissed his clammy head again, and began to sing softly to him.

I was barely able to dial Lance’s father, Scott. When he picked up, I croaked down the receiver,”I need you!  I need you now! We have a seizure situation here! Please come as quickly as you can!!”

Scott arrived approximated seven minutes later. Lance was sitting up, and falling backwards on the bed. His tenancity to fight the hypo was so difficult to watch, this one had full control of him, and there was nothing he could do to beat it.

I managed to get another glass of sweet drink into Lance-his  bsl was 3.6mmol/L!!! I shudder to think what it was prior to the seizure….

I called my doctor, and his receptionist said to bring him in immediately. As soon as Lance began to speak in sentences again, the first thing he was able to communicate to me was “Mum, I think I may vomit soon..”

I raced through the house for a bucket, and returned, to find Lance’s beautiful strawberries-and-cream complexion had turned into a whiter shade of pale, with a tinge of green.

He was very unsteady on his feet, and was determined that he would not be going to the doctor unless he was wearing  only his underwear.

“Just a singlet and satin boxer shoers, honey…that’s all.”

“No, it’s too heavy on my skin. I will have to go like this or I won’t go at all.

I looked at Scott and sighed.

“Okay sweetie, whatever makes you happy, I just need Doctor Congo to have a look at you.”

“Why? I don’t feel sick!!” An I going to the doctor??

“Um, you had a very bad hypo about half an hour ago my darling. “

“Did I? Can you carry me mum, and turn the lights all off? My head is really hurting.”

Scott rushed out to the car, and I carried my son like a newborn baby and let him lay down on the back seat. I sat with him, and strapped him in as best I could. I told Scott to take the back roads and go as slow as legally possible.

We all made it to the doctor’s.Lance  began to scream when the rays from the sun hit his face.

“MY HEAD!!! MY HEAD HURTS 111 out of 10!!!”

We were immediately ushered into a waiting room, so that inquisitive eyes couldn’t witness his post hypo stupor.

We waited for about five minutes, Lance begging me, pleading with me to go home. He just wanted to go home to bed.

I heard the doctor’s door swing open, and his loud, booming voice bidding a patient farewell. I told Lance that Dr Congo would be with us any moment. He stared straight ahead. I instantly knew what was about to happen.

I grabbed about 30 tissues.

I thought I had done very well, in catching Lance’s post-hypo vomit. That’s until a huge cylindrical explosion sprayed up my arms, in my hair, and up the walls and dripped down on the sofa.

Lance sat heaving,  half crying, his eyes rolling back in his head. A nurse came rushing in and handed him a sick bag, (the type they give you on aeroplanes.) He clutched onto it for dear life, inhaling deeply and exhaling with all his might.

The doctor called us into his room. He didn’t even blink twice, considering that his private waiting room looked like a set from “The Exorcist.”

I began to tell him what had happened. I requested a Panadol suppository for the headache, and a Maxolon injection for the vomiting/nausea. I wasn’t going to allow Lance to suffer any longer than he had to.

By this stage, he was really going to town with the cries of “MY HEAD FEELS LIKE IT’S GOING TO EXPLODE!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!!’

The doctor swiftly jabbed him with a shot of Maxolon, and before Lance had time to complain, he had a dose of Panadol in his mouth. Doctor was sure that the Maxolon would work well enough without traumatising him even more by giving him a suppository.

His BSL upon leaving was 6.1mmol/L.  Dr Congo’s large fingers ran through Lance’s hair.

“I really don’t like seeing you like this, Lance! Do you promise you will go home and try and sleep for me? You will wake up feeling much, much better.”

Lance’s lip quivered, and he tearfully nodded.

I tearfully thanked Dr Congo profusely, and hurried Lance back into the car, wanting to get him home as soon as possible.

On the way home, a little voice from the back seat said:

“Mum..can we stop off at Woolworths and get some green grapes and watermelon?”

Without that shot of Maxolon, it would usually have been a good 12 hours before Lance actually requested food. I was happy that I suggested an IM injection, rather than try to get him to injest a tablet or syrup. The maxolon had no choice but to work if it was already in his bloodstream.

We arrived home, and I cleaned Lance up. He still had the most hideous headache. I put him into my bed, and lay down beside him. BSL:8.4mmol/L.

An hour later, I woke up, to discover the aftermath of the hypo. I tiptoed around and cleaned up, so that when he woke up, he wouldn’t be unpleasantly reminded of the goings on earlier that morning.

We have at least one of these hypos EVERY YEAR, as a result of the vicious humidity that goes hand in hand with our summers. I have to ensure that Lance has a sports drink with him at all times, as his blood sugar dances around 4-5 mmol/L no matter how many snacks I give, how hydrated I keep him, or even under-bolus on the odd occasion.I thought that this year would be different, considering that we have the pump. I have gone through all of his basal results and set them according to his recent bsl results. More hard work and constant monitoring, but watching a sugar-starved brain related seizure is something that I would be quite happy to never witness again.

I have said this before-the only joy that came out of this morning of terror is that Lance remembers VERY little. 

Without Air Conditioning, I would have to spend all day and night at the cimema with him to escape the savage Queensland heat.

Again, I was up until 1 am rubbing legs and feet last night..I got some Voltaren gel, which I know isn’t going to help the internal discomfort, but it’s more appropriate than panadol or Deep Heat.(!!!)

The whole episode  was all over the next day-after a solid sleep, Lance woke without a headache, and a voracious appetite. He had lost a day-he had no recollection of the events the day before.

Santa, if I can have ONE wish…

Please let Lance get through the summer without another severe hypo/seizure.

That’s all I want for Christmas.

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Project365:Australia-Day 23: Boxes

 It is a very surreal concept to comprehend that my son  continues to live each day by what comes out of laboratories, trucks, refrigeration and lastly, the humble box.

Despite being a week before Christmas, yesterday, I chose to collect a prescription for Novorapid and Levemir; the two insulins that my son relies on to mimic the work of alive and healthy beta cells, and another case of Glucagon.  (Sometimes I will hold the orange casing in my hands and realise that it is responsible for my son being here and alive on Earth, counting down the days until Christmas. His endless chatter is like music to my ears, or his silent concentration whilst contructing a Lego Alien is sheer poetry in motion. )

As Lance is compliant and agreeable to the idea, we have been fingerpricking up to or at least 10 times a day, which is  becoming recognised as the most achievable way of keeping tight control. (Diabetes Australia suggest aiming for between 5mmol/L and 10mmol/L 60%-80% of the time. I like to challenge those numbers however and aim for perfect readings 75%-85% of the time. I want his eyes and kidneys to remain unharmed for as long as I am responsible for him, and I will go to almost impossible lengths to do so.) A Diabetes Educator recently baulked at the thought of my seven-year-old receiving  up to 20 needle induced holes in his body per day, suggesting that he have fingerpricks before breakfast, lunch and dinner, and before bed. I am constantly surprised by the Health Professionals in this state, and their ideas of what is right and wrong in regards to such a silent and insidious condition.  According to her, I am causing Lance “unnecessary mental trauma” by inflicting all of the tests. I guess she hasn’t seen a “Lance Hypo” go from managable to complete pandemonium within seconds. Those are the type of hypos that were causing heartbreak and devastation to me, as Lance would have no clue 2 hours later what had happened.
So, I decided to go and get EVERYTHING. I got my glucometers tested to see if they were in the correct ranges when giving a blood sugar result (2 ticks,) as many boxes of strips and barrels as they would allow before the word “stockpiling” was mentioned, (tick, with a signature to say that I test my son 10 times per day) and 5×5 pack of Novorapid ( in total 25 pens, and $283 worth) and 5×5 packs of Levemir ( in total 25 pens, and $487 worth.)

As my son has Type 1 Diabetes, he is entitled to a “Child Disability Card” which allows collosal concessions.

An hour later, I walked out of the pharmacy with all of the paraphenalia imperative to keeping my son alive ,all after paying the bill of $28. Without the assistance of NDSS and Diabetes Australia, I avoided a bill of approximately $1000.

In this photo is my son’s supplies from an NDSS branch pharmacy. It’s amazing that all of the items in all of these boxes keep him alive and healthy.

“How to keep your child alive when Type 1 Diabetes invades their body .”

Type 1 Diabetes costs the Australian Government millions of dollars each year. With five new diagnoses everyday, it certainly isn’t a problem that is going to improve anytime soon. With the introduction of an insulin pump grant scheme, Type 1 Diabetes would soon become a more managable problem, for the sufferers, and the Government.

Diabetes Australia and The National Diabetes Services Scheme (NDSS) have fought hard to ensure that all Diabetics face the least amount of financial imposition possible. Without this assistance, living with Diabetes would be simply unbearable. If there is anything to be grateful for about having Type 1 Diabetes, it’s that we live in a country that takes the financial load off. As a parent who looks at and lives with Diabetes everyday, I am so grateful for the efforts of Diabetes Australia.

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