The ice surface has been so smooth and sheen, free of cracks or dents, that we didn't even notice the big open hole ahead. Blindly we skated forward, bearing down, picking up speed, hurtling towards the gaping pit of freezing cold water. Before we knew it, we were submerged; soaking wet, struggling to get out before falling below the surface forever.
No, we didn't really fall under the ice, but this metaphor seems perfect to describe our family life with diabetes lately. Diabetes here has been uneventful, routine, common even; each day predictable and manageable. No lows, no highs, just a whole lot of 6's and 7's.
We were enjoying the skate, getting comfortable, and even temporarily forgetting that ice couldn't be perfect forever. Inevitably D would rear it's ugly head and we would fall. And that we did last night when Dylan's pump ran out of insulin in the middle of the night.
My own fault really, I should have refilled the reservoir earlier. I should have understood that with the stomach bug Dyl's has had the past couple of days, his insulin needs would have been higher. I should have been on top of it. But I wasn't.
Around 3:30am his pump alarm went off, signifying the end of the insulin and in his half-asleep state he heard it, but ignored it. By the time he woke up this morning his bg was 22.4 mmol/l. A quick site change, refill, and bolus, and we waited for the new insulin to do its job. We waited, and waited, and waited some more. Half an hour later we tested to discover a bg of 24.1 mmol/l. Crap. Another bolus, another wait, another test, and finally it started to come down.
A sudden and effective reminder for us to never get too comfortable with D because it has always been, and always will be, anything BUT predictable.