Tag Archives: injections

Mama’s Shoes Don’t Fit

Last week I was put in the shoes of my moms for probably the first time ever. Okay, yes, I have a child just like she did (although, I’m only doing it once, not four times over) and some of you may relate that to walking in her shoes. But for me and my moms, it wasn’t until last week that I truly felt what it was like to walk in her shoes.

I didn’t like it.

So here’s the back story: Lightening Bolt’s parents were in the hospital awaiting the arrival of Baby Number 4 (who by the way has the BEST video game name ever) and I was charged with insulin injecting duties for little LB. Something to do with me having the disease, going 28 years of injections, you know, being veteran T-1 and all. And at first I thought no problem. But then the cogs in my brain started spinning.

I have only ever given myself injections. I have never given anyone else a needle, and I have never liked anyone else giving me a needle. I know my pain threshold. I don’t know LB’s. What the frick did I agree to? Oh freaking crud. This kid is going to hate me!

Insert Dr. Google: My fingers frantically danced over the keyboard in search of injecting tutorials. And low and behold, there is a huge spectrum of them: Wikihow; YouTube; BD.com; etc., etc., etc.. Pictures, videos, words, pretty much anyone can become a needle-loving drug addict online! And FYI, none of it is how I do it!

Insert Second Guessing: What if I can’t do it? I haven’t injected a tiny pen syringe in over five years. What if I’ve forgotten the steps? What if I nick a vein? What if I choke? Nope, that wasn’t an option. Texting back and forth with my lovely sister-in-law helped grow my confidence.

But, his eyes: Those what the frick do you think you’re doing eyes as I held the pen in my right hand. His bottom lip, quivering as he realized oh freak, she ain’t kidding. The tears. The clutching, the pulling down his sleeve, the desperate protecting of his arm. The heartbreaking “No! No! No!”. I don’t remember my own tears at the hands of my moms, but I remember the screams at the hands of the nurses who more often than not left my arms purple and blue. Oh dear. How could I do this?

Granny, you're not seriously letting her near me with that thing are you? Granny????

Granny, you’re not seriously letting her near me with that thing are you? Granny????

I counted. My moms consoled. I rubbed his back. I tried to calm him.  His big brother jumped, bounced and danced. My boy looked at me with those same eyes, what the frick you doing to my cousin bestie mama? I showed him my pump, I showed him my meter, I told him we were the same. But a 4.5 year old facing a needle at the hands of someone he’d never had a needle from prior was not going to understand.

I didn’t know his pain threshold.

The needle was in, the needle was out. The un-trusting glare on his face remained. I will never forget that look, and likely will be getting it for the next 30 years.

Last week I walked in the shoes of my moms; I didn’t like it.

3:30 p.m. BG before: 4.7
Temp. basal: -100% (1 hour)
Carbs: gummy bears
Time: 41:45
Distance: 7.13 km
Average pace: 5:51 min/km
4:30 p.m. BG after: 9.1
Temp. basal: +100% (1 hour)

This run was bittersweet – sweet that I made it a whole 2 more kms then I did on my runs last week, but bitter in that my heel was achy and my toes got a bloody cramp in them half way into the run. Argh!

(Top) Taken moments before the beads of sweat on my forehead became beads of sweat in my eyes – youch! (Left) From my run on Saturday when my foot was freshly taped and I felt not even a tick of an ache for the whole run. (Right) Toe cramp! Toe cramp! Toe cramp!

(Top) Taken moments before the beads of sweat on my forehead became beads of sweat in my eyes – youch! (Left) From my run on Saturday when my foot was freshly taped and I felt not even a tick of an ache for the whole run. (Right) Toe cramp! Toe cramp! Toe cramp!

T-1 25 days until Global Heroes Medtronic Twin Cities in Motion 10 Mile. I will conquer this!

Syringes vs. Infusions

For nearly four years I have not known the feel of a syringe, the gentle ease at which it slides in under the skin, the smooth, non-evasiveness of its short metal tip, and the non-existent flinches, pinches, and pokes that often result with infusions.

I was happy not knowing…

The day after Jog for the Bog my blood sugars went into a panicked state. Almost right from the moment I got up they were high, not overly high, but high enough for me to be annoyed. I kept giving myself extra doses of insulin in an effort to bring the sugars down, but none worked.

By dinner, they were 11.5, and creeping up into the Holy crap, what the hell is going on??? hyperglycemic zone. More insulin. Two hours later they were 15.8. More insulin. One hour later, they were 16.8. At this point, most people would probably change out their infusions. But not me. Just like my blood sugars, I, too, can be super stubborn. Plus, it was nearing 11, my eyes were droopy, my body heavy, all I wanted was sleep. The BG lethargy had taken over.

More insulin.

When I awoke at 2 a.m. to check again, they were 16.7. HOLY FREAKING FRICK! Desperate times. I stumbled over to the wardrobe where I keep my diabetes supplies, I rifled through a box until I found the unopened emergency baggy of old-school syringes. I pulled one out, drew up three units of insulin, pulled up some belly fat, and slid her in. It was the first time in nearly four years I’ve done so.

Hello old companion.

Immediate thoughts: Huh… that was the easiest injection I’ve given myself since going on the pump. Huh… had it always been that easy? Huh… why the heck are infusion needles so bloody long? Huh… how the hell am I to go back to injecting infusions, knowing their pains, when I’ve just had a taste of comfortable bliss? Huh….

Like I said, it’s sometimes better not remembering.

Okay seriously, that length and thickness is just not cool next to the sleek syringe!

I switched out my infusion, which, let me just say, at 2 a.m. takes a helluva LOT longer than any other time of the day!!! I thoroughly examined that sucker but nothing appeared wrong. The canula was straight as an arrow, not bent out of shape in any which way; the infusion site was perfectly clear, no redness at all; the tubing wasn’t kinked; and while there were a few air bubbles in the reservoir, it was nothing that should have caused those kinds of BG numbers.

The only thing amiss was the state of my pump’s battery. I had been getting a low-battery alert for a few hours prior to bed, but I figured I could push the battery through to the morning. And it didn’t outright die, there was still juice in there, so again, I’m doubting that the culprit. Just another one of those ugh, frustratingly awful diabetes mysteries I guess.

By 6:30 a.m., my BG was back down to a happy 5.4 … all thanks to the old-school injection!