I haven't felt like laughing much this week or weekend.
Mama drama had my social life in upheaval for a couple of days, which kept me from participating in DSMA (my weekly online tweet-together for people with diabetes).
I posted a response to a closed thread as lead admin on TuDiabetes that pissed a member off and resulted in a (so far) 7 page bash-the-admin-team thread regarding our community's perceived agenda and my abuse of authority. *eye roll* The tone of the thread has already resulted in a member suspension, several private messages to members, and another member leaving. And I have gone in and diplomatically tried to apologize for any misunderstandings at least three times.
My daughter and husband both got sick with different illnesses on Saturday - a tummy bug and some type of flu, respectively. And it hit me Sunday morning. My blood sugars had been riding in the 50s and 60s for nearly 6 hours, I couldn't eat another freaking glucose tablet, and I finally started vomiting around 4am.
When you vomit as a diabetic, you have several immediate emergency issues to face - 1) you can start to spill ketones into your urine which can put you in the hospital and even kill you, 2) you have no idea how much of the food you had already taken insulin for had actually converted to glucose and/or how much food you just lost, 3) you probably can't put any more food or liquid in to account for what you lost because you might not keep it down, and 4) who the hell cares what your blood sugar is when you're hugging a toilet?
Many people with diabetes keep a lifesaving emergency syringe on hand full of a substance called glucagon for moments like these. You inject the glucagon into your system, your liver dumps a bunch of sugar into your bloodstream, and you don't have to worry about orally taking in glucose. Me? I have never used it, don't have an Rx for it, and I don't keep it on hand. So my options were limited. I decided on a 2-part approach - attempt to sip 4oz of juice and suspend my insulin pump for 40 minutes.
2 hours later, I woke up feeling sick again - but it was the sick you feel when your blood sugar is high. F*ck. Seriously? 40 minutes without my basal insulin and I spike high 2 hours later? Any time a nurse or CDE suggests to me that I suspend my pump during a low, I always look at them like they're bonkers. YDMV, but my diabetes doesn't work that way. I need basal insulin to do its job - background insulin for metabolic functioning. A change to your basal insulin rate generally affects you an hour or two later. A low affects you now. I choose sugar now.
So needless to say, I haven't felt like laughing a lot this week.
But I did on Thursday evening. My husband was coming home late and Sweetie and I sat down to some of her favorite foods for dinner - broccoli, sweet potatoes (with a little butter and cinnamon sugar), and pork chops. She was tearing through it, smiling, and I asked her if she liked it.
"No." Did you like your pork chop? "No." Did you like your sweet potatoes? "No." Did you like your broccoli? "No." As she reached for another forkful, grinning.
I have been loving her adorable "no." So many parents are frustrated by this toddler vocab favorite - and it's usually because they mean it. They are asserting their independence.
Not Sweetie.
She just knows (probably thanks to cartoons like Mickey and Dora and Bubble Guppies where they always ask "does this look right to you?" followed by "no" several times before the answer is finally provided) that it's an appropriate answer choice when asked a question. (We're working on "Jes!" by the way, which is equally adorable, but apparently we just can't figure out when we're supposed to use it. It includes a very cute head waggle, too.)
Anyway, the first time we heard "no" was relatively late in her word timeline - closer to the 50th word than the 1st. (For the record, "no" was my second word, according to my baby book - after "light" and before "shut up." Tells you something, doesn't it?) But when Sweeties says it, it's the cutest sound ever. Shakes her head and says it as though she's absolutely sure. "No." Sure, sometimes she means it. (It's still cute then.) Sometimes it's just an answer because you asked a question.
Do you want this cookie? "No." Grinning and accepting the cookie.
"No" has crept into one of her other activities, too. She'll build a block tower (she's such a little engineer - give her a doll and she throws it down, but give her something to stack and she's mesmerized). She'll knock it down. "Nah noooo!" (Oh no!) Lather, rinse, and repeat.
The higher you can stack them before you knock them over, the more dramatic and higher-pitched the Nah before the Noo sweeps back down the octave. I love it. I'll knock the tower over just to hear it and giggle.
I need to just throw my hands in the air, grin, shout "Nah nooo!," and stack my blocks back up again.
Because it makes me smile. Every. Single. Time.
This post was written as part of NHBPM - 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J.
No comments:
Post a Comment