I was going to use one of the 2 “free passes” for Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge today. I wasn’t really feeling the Pinterest pinboard, so I left it to do today instead of getting it finished prior to the prompt day. Then some unexpected events caused me and my partner, A, to be up for several hours in the middle of the night. We spent from 12-2:30am at the ER with our daughter, Ms. Diva, and then spent today at an appt. with Ms. Diva’s pediatrician, at the pharmacy (twice) for her new meds, and at home with her resting. I’m exhausted, and so is A. Per usual for parents, we seem much more worn and strung out after last night’s escapades than Ms. Diva herself. She’s sick, but is already much much better and looks much better as well.
She had a little stuffy nose for about a week, and seemed a little tired a few days, but nothing remarkably horrible. Last night, she seemed a little more congested in the nose and sinus parts of her head, and we gave her a dose of children’s cold medicine before she went to bed. She seemed to go to sleep easy enough. A. and I went to bed around 11pm. At midnight, Ms. Diva woke us up with muted shrieking, silent sobbing, and wild gesturing at her throat. She squeaked out that she couldn’t breathe. Her entire little 6-year-old body was shaking. We got ourselves to the ER immediately.
After some albuterol treatment, prednisone, and benedryl, the iconic croup seal-bark cough emerged. Oh, there it was. Croup! Seriously?! I felt like a complete and total idiot. She’d had croup before, when she was really little, and A and I both had it as kids too, so we know what croup sounds like. But she hadn’t coughed ONCE until about 1/2 way through the first of the two albuterol treatments! The mist loosened the gunk up so that she could cough, and there was no mistaking it. Grrrrr.
In the rush to get out of the house, I left Dex (my continuous glucose monitor) under my pillow, so I had no way of tracking where my BG was throughout this frightening roller-coaster of an episode. Once we got into the ER, the staff assessed and started treating her, and A and I sat down next to her, I thought about testing my BG. 47 mg/dl. Abso-freaking-lutely AMAZING. I started pounding the gross glucose tabs I keep in my purse for when no other sugar sources are available. Yick.
I have no idea why the BG decided to do that last night. At 11pm I went to bed at 114mg/dl, and had reduced my overnight basal rate the night before. By 12:30am, it was 47. And serious stress, from other types of situations, generally sends my BG skyrocketing through the roof–like 100+ points. WTF???
It sucks so much to have to even bother with testing my blood and addressing whatever issues it’s having, when our daughter can’t breathe and is sick and needs help. I hate it. I hate that it happened, and I hate that I have to even think about it. But I sucked it up, ate the stupid glucose tabs, comforted and loved my girl, and tried to be good support for A, too. It turned out okay.
Ms. Diva’s sleeping and breathing well tonight, and I hope her mamas will be able to sleep too (!!!). See you tomorrow for #hawmc day 17.