More than a number

***this post is a follow up to my last post. If you find it confusing, you might want to scroll down and read "38" first.***

I don't normally let one number get me down. Oh, I used to when Elise was first diagnosed. Every out-of-range number was a failure on my part. I took those numbers hard.

Then I figured out that I was seriously lowering my life expectancy by doing that. So I adopted the mantra, "one number (or two or three) does not a bad pancreas make".

And I was able to walk around with my head held a little higher, and a stomach a little less knotted after that.

But sometimes all it takes is one number to knock the wind out of my sails. One little number; magnified by the circumstances surrounding it.

The night before the 38, I really didn't get much sleep. Fred is out of town, so I am flying solo. Diabetes and an 11 month old who shall remain nameless tagged-teamed me all night long to ensure that I didn't get any sleep. Total suckitude.

So the next night, I was looking forward to getting a good (oh, who am I kidding), a semi-decent night's sleep, when the number 38 slapped me in the face.

When it happened, I was on the phone with my Mom. The sound of the dexcom emitting it's three yelps wafted down the stairs and I started to grumble, "looks like the dexcom is going to act senile tonight too".

Because the night prior, it wasn't so much D that misbehaved, it was the dexcom who kept telling lies (tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies...). Like Elise was 89 with double arrows down when she was 161. This went on all freaking night until 4 am, when she really was low.

So I hung up the phone and went upstairs to see 81 slightly down. Not too worried, I checked her and that's when the 38 popped up. Expletives were uttered. A sleeping child was woken. Smarties were administered. All the while I felt like I was going to throw up.

Like I said, it's not so much that one number that freaked me out, but the circumstances;

It was unexpected.
When your child has just eaten 15g of uncovered snack, you don't expect their BG to go down. You just don't. How can you do battle with a disease that does the opposite of what should happen? How can I rest knowing that no matter what I do, diabetes likes to throw these curves at us?

It was night time.

There is something that is just so much scarier when these numbers occur while you are surrounded by darkness. It makes it feel more ominous. The blanket of night seems to enforce the fear that comes with lows.

I was alone.

I know that the day will come when Elise will be by herself and experience a bad low. It rips my heart to pieces to think about the fear that she may feel when it happens. I know how hard it is for me, and my senses aren't even affected by the symptoms of a low. It is far less frightening to have someone there by your side. To put their arm around you to calm the shaking. To help you catch your breath after a close call. To quiet the thoughts of, "what would I do if..."

So no... one number does not usually send me into such a panic. But sometimes events swirl into the perfect storm and that number can leave you feeling like you were pummeled by gale-force winds.