A post from my husband:
"Sugar Bear had another CNS event tonight (thursday, July 3rd) at our friends' house. He was sleeping on the couch when we came down to collect our things and go home. He was in a cold sweat and not responding. His sugar level was 85. Not out of range but on the low end of where we like to be this time of night.(midnight) This requires the eating of food. Sugar Bear could not come out of his event enough to eat. Swiping any hand that came near him, crying, shaking, angry refusal with no words. It is scary and it comes on from nowhere.
Two days ago I posted on facebook a rather abrupt post about diabetes. I didn't have the words to describe what I had seen. I didn't have the words to describe what was ripped apart between me and my wife in mere seconds. I didn't have the words to explain the helplessness I felt. I didn't have the words to describe what I was witnessing. Our son Sugar Bear is a vibrant, intelligent, sensitive, and caring 9 year old. He can be stubborn but it's normal. Tonight I witnessed a second episode much like the first one. We were at a friends house. It unfolded like this. The invite came while I was out dropping off recycling. Our friends wanted us to come for dinner. We scrape by on next to nothing so a steak dinner is a rare treat we usually don't pass up and these wonderful folks were just back from a trip to California for a wedding and there was some catching up to do. It was about 5:30 when I figure out what we are doing and my wife tells me she'll just meet me there at our friends' house after work. Sugar Bear usually eats around 6 but we were still running errands. At 6pm he tested himself in the back of the moving van (he's done this three times now--he's awesome) and was at 100 which is a low middle stable sugar. He ate 15 carbs and we proceed to finish our errands and head to our friends' house arriving around 6:15 figuring those carbs would carry him to the late dinner and we would get another baseline sugar before eating.
We have done this with him before at times when we go out. When we got to dinner time at 7:30 he was 165. It's a little high but we know from past experience he is active with our friend's children so we feed him dinner and give insulin after 15 minutes. We decide to drop a unit because he will play with his friends for a couple hours and he burns more sugar when we are out. At 9:30pm his sugar is a very high(for us) 241 so we give him a snack(normal) and a single unit of insulin as correction for the high per the ratios with which we are currently working. At 10pm his night time slow acting insulin goes in without a hitch.
Pictures finally came in on the Camp website where our teenager has been for most of the week with no contact so we are in a really great place...our son who is off at camp seems to be having lots of fun. Our son who is with us seems to be having lots of fun...we relax and play Cards Against Humanity with our friends. It seems to be a great evening. We wrap up our game and my wife heads down to check on Sugar Bear while I chat a little with our hosts. Their son comes up and tells me Sugar Bear is having a problem like the other day...My heart sinks, I know what he means and this is the second moment like this in two days. That's two too many. Nothing can reach him in this state...you must figure out somehow to get sugar into his system because he is chemically incapable of pulling out without it...it was the scariest 10 minutes of my life. I want to avoid these events as much we can. May you never. Back won't release. Stomach in knots. Neck is stiff and aching.
So I want to say this about independence day. We are none of us independent. We are interdependent. In the biggest sense, and I get it now, community is God is all of us in community with our universe. As parents we will not be free of this thing which exists in our son. He will never be free of what it does to him and how he will live his life. So with a heavier and more resolute heart I bid you love and strength to get through your challenges and immovable moments. I bid you know that your friends are there and love you. And finally I bid you grace and triumph over that loneliness which protects your softest place that you may share in the genuine trust of one another."
Sugar Bear remembers nothing from these events. After he starts coming out of it he's shaky and a bit weepy. Vulnerable. It breaks my heart into millions of pieces. Hubby called the endocrinologist on Friday the fourth and the doc explained what these are and how serious they are. We changed some ratios and the night time insulin and adjusted when corrections happen (no more unless he's above 250 after 9p). So scary. So unnerving. So awful.
Friday morning came. I got some news from my family that my cousin who was 32 had passed away. I went to work. I'd only had 3 hours of fitful sleep. So much stress. So much anger and sadness, but it was a holiday. I had to go. On the way in to work, hubby called. He was nervous. He's physically disabled and after our evening it was frightening for him to be alone with Sugar Bear. He's worried about how he could handle one of these seizures. They take a little physicality to get sugar into him. I assure him he's got this and I could be home in 20 minutes and if it's where he can't handle he calls the hospital. We both are quiet. He knows I love him. He knows I trust him. But to hold a life in your hands like this....it's so heavy. It's so worth it. I work with my heart and soul at home with my man and my baby. The updates on text and phone calls allow me to pause and breathe. Work is rough. I get through it in a fog. The day after a seizure is recovery. All are exhausted. But I have saturday off to collect our teenager and regroup as a family.
Saturday we drive almost an hour away in the early morning to collect our camper. We listen to our diabetes playlist. It's a collection of songs we're all contributing that somehow relates for us to this awful disease. Sugar Bear's most recent one he wants added is called Game Over. We aren't ready to add it yet. It's his sense of humor but makes us smile nervously. The one that resonates the most with us this time, Leonard Cohen's Anthem.
"Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in"
We pick up our other baby. Sugar Bear is so happy to see him.
On the ride home we have to tell the teenager what has happened after stories of camp fun. We have to bring reality in so he's not shocked if we have another of these seizures. Innocence is shattered. We pick up the pieces and let the light in.