While battling non compliant blood sugars of 245-270 from midnight to 2am, I decided time to change out the site just in case.
Higher temp basal, and two corrections wouldn't bring it down more than 30 points.
As I'm struggling to wrestle this 89 lb kid to a good position for me to clean his new spot, as well as trying to peel the tape off that just won't budge with a bandaged thumb, all the while worrying I'd contaminate the steel cannula; I hear the simplest question. "Why are we going through all this!?'. You can hear the angst in Justice's voice as the steel pierced his skin, and as I pushed down the adhesive.
I wanted so bad to hug him and say "I don't know baby! I just don't know!".
All I could reply was "Cause your sugars high baby". I told him come lay in my bed it was ok.
But it isn't is it? I didn't have the answer to the simple question my sweet boy had. Quite the same way I don't have the answer when people ask me "How's he doing?".
How do I answer that? Everyday is a battle. Everyday we fear the worst, pray for the best and do what we can. Taking over as the job of a vital organ aint fuckin' easy. PERIOD. We work hard, do our best and still sometimes just a simple Totinos pizza can cause nights like this.
I just really wish I had the answer to Justice's question.
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