I made a mistake

I am human. I am not a pancreas, although I try really hard. And as much as I hate it, I make mistakes. What makes it so hard to handle is that they affect my daughter. My screw-ups hurt her, and it kills me.

Within the past week, there have been some evenings that we've added some diluted Humalog to Elise's nighttime NPH shot, so she can enjoy an extra treat. We've discovered the vast bevy of frozen yogurt shops, and we've found that if we time it just right, Elise can have about a 15g serving. And if we add the right amount of DH to her shot, it all evens out.

The problem lies in finding the right amount of DH. Elise's ratios are a bit weird, especially right now since her illness. She's about 4:1 (4g of carbs to every 1 unit of insulin - remember, she's on diluted) at breakfast, and 3:1 at dinner. She doesn't have a lunchtime ratio because she's on NPH. Also, all her snacks are uncovered.

Last night, I screwed up. I thought I had it all figured out. I didn't. The problem was two-fold: I think I over-shot my WAG at how much insulin she should get, and I lost track of time and gave her her bedtime snack about 45 minutes too late. It was a perfect storm.

For almost two hours, her BG hovered in the 60s. It was late and she needed to sleep, but I couldn't put her to bed like that. The extra carbs I put into her just maintained her BG; though I knew it was just a matter of time before it all caught up to her and her BG went through the roof.

Finally at 11:15, she could take no more, so I lay in bed with her; waiting for the moment Eileen would show me the beautiful sight of an upwards arrow. And as I watched through my tears as Elise slept, I cursed myself and this stupid disease.

How is it fair that when I make a mistake, it hurts her? It is my screw-ups that cause her harm, and I remain unscathed. I should be the one feeling crappy. It should be MY tummy that hurts, not hers. I made the mistake and she pays the price.