7,000 drops of blood. 7,000 numbers. 7,000 tears. 7,000 blisters. 7,000 strips, 7,000 calculations. 7,000 no's. 7,000 times I have dealt with a bg reading and a course of action. 7,000 times is a fuck load aint it?
Thats approximate of course. Some days are actually way more. Some days I actually lose count. Some days its all a blur.
With all those times you'd think I would get used to it huh? Or it wouldnt sting as much?
Today was an amazing family day. But as much as I wanted to not let D interfere it did. Not in ways that anyone but a PWD or a parent of a CWD could get.
We hit the Grand Prix for some Go Kart racing. Justice wanted to drive his own Kart. He was tall enough. I knew he could do it. But I was terrified. If he went low while driving what would happen? Would he be able to grab his skittles and chew while getting my attention or would he pass out at the wheel? No its not a real car on a real highway but its my baby. I told him he had to ride with me and he broke down. He cried and I knew he knew WHY. So I let my fears go. I had just checked his bg 15 min before, he was 212 and I gave a small correction. I said a small prayer and off we went. I drove infront of him and hubs was behind as were our friends all watching him while we drove just to be sure. He did it. He rocked it. He was fast as shit!! I was so happy I could cry. But Im sure people watching at first were confused by my over protectiveness. Why was this mom saying no and then handing her kid candy? Why did she have a mini cooler on her lap? Did she just grab his pants? (securing his pump). Whatever. J kicked Ds ass. But trust me lady appreciate that you can worry as a mom should not that your child may die from a low you didnt see coming. Or that his lifesaving apparatus will get caught on the Kart somewhere and a site change will have to be done in those filty fucking bathrooms.
We enjoyed the rest of the rides and games as a family and Justice finished out at an awesome 135.
We then headed to Smashburger this awesome new burger joint. Bg was 144 and he had two kids meals. Which include 2 burgers and 2 orders of fries. Scale in hand I weighed the fries and swaged for the burger buns. At one point he let out a huge sigh as if he was full. A friend said Justice dont stuff yourself if your'e full its ok. I ofcourse interjected explaining that no he must finish everything on his plate as he was pre bolused. She felt bad but she didnt know. But I could see that look of an outsider who gets a tiny glimpse of our "normal". Then came dessert. A friend offered to buy the boys shakes but we declined. Dh and I agreed we didnt want to swag for a milkshake, that could end very badly. J was upset but he understood and let it go. I couldve easily said fuck it lets try but was it worth it? A low or high later would not be worth the taste of a shake right now. I had sweets at home ,they could have those. It was all good. No one was upset. But inside it hurt a little that I couldnt just mindlessly order up some malteds for us to enjoy. Stupid? Maybe. But unless youve been there you dont get it.
We came home and J was at 138 post dinner. I was beyond happy bgs didnt stop him from having fun today. He hopped in the shower and when he came out I massaged his hands with some lotion. I could feel them. Rubbing against my fingers. Tearing on my heart. I shouldnt of done it but I did. I looked down and saw the damage. My babies fingers were bruised and scarred with holes and rips. It was awful. Ugly. Scary. Damaging. Heart breaking. Soul ripping. Fucking sad.
All my worries. All my fears. All the things we deal with day in and day out with Diabetes was seen in his fingers. Everything my heart feels but cant verbalize was seen in his fingers.
If you look closely you could count it. 7,000 times.
7,001....not any easier.