Riley had been running high for a while. He would come down a little with insulin, but not as much as I thought he should. He woke up with a sugar of 222 this morning. That’s pretty unheard of for him. But, he had lasagna for supper last night, so I chalked it up to that.
I arrived in the office at 12:30 and picked up the phone to call my mom. Her first words were, “He’s still high.” I told her I’d be there soon to change his site. I’d rather be safe than sorry.
I got to my mom’s, sat down on the couch, and called over Riley. I pulled out his old set. I couldn’t find anything wrong with it. It looked fine to me.
I filled the cartridge with insulin and tapped out all the bubbles. Then, I went to prime/rewind on his pump menu and hit “OK”.
I scrolled up to “rewind”. It flashed across the screen “FULL REWIND REQUIRED”. Every so often, his pump requires that it rewind the whole way. His pump will hold 200 units. Riley only uses 9.5-10 units a day, so there’s no need to fill it all the way. I usually only rewind to about 75. It doesn’t take as long that way.
As I sat there listening to the whir of his pump and watching the arrows flash on the screen, I thought, “Hmm, why didn't God give us a rewind button?"
What if I could rewind back to before Riley had D, back to when life was simple?
I really don’t remember what life was like before Riley got diabetes. I don’t remember not thinking about what he ate or when he ate, or even if he ate. I don’t remember not getting up two or three times a night to check on him. I don’t remember going to work and not calling my mom all day to check on him.
It’s a defense mechanism I guess. It helps to take some of the sting out of it.
The whirring stopped and I heard a beep and my attention was again returned to the pump. I primed it and swabbed the area with IV Prep.
I cocked the inset and held it up against Riley’s skin. He flinched as the spring released and delved the needle into his flesh. I held it there a few seconds and pressed down a little. Then I pulled back on the device. And, out came the needle and the canula with it. “Darn it!!!”, I shouted. It didn’t stick.
I got a tissue and held it to where the blood was trickling out. It seemed to take forever to stop bleeding.
Then, I went through the routine again with a new set. Placed it against the skin, deep breath, released the spring, and, this time it stuck.
I bolused for his lunch he had just eaten and cleaned up what was left from the site change. Then, I leaned over and gave Riley a kiss on the cheek and explained that I had to go back to work.
He looked at me and said, “Now I’m going to go low.”
“What did you say?”
“I’m going to go low.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because sometimes when you change my needle, I go too low.”
He’s right. It’s just something that happens. A 60% decrease in his basal for 3 ½ hours and a decrease in his meal bolus usually does the trick. But, he still usually has at least one time during that day that he has to have fruit snacks to keep him from going too low.
As smart as he is and as proud as I am that he knows this, I turn away as the tears well up in my eyes.
“It’s just so unfair!”, I think to myself. “He shouldn’t know that! He shouldn’t have to worry about things like that!”
But, he does.
And, now, I know why God doesn't give us rewind buttons.
I don't know how Riley got this disease or why. If I were to go back in time, it wouldn't prevent him from getting it, it would just delay it.
To fully get rid of this disease a full rewind would be required.
And, I'd rather have the Riley with the carbs and the pump and the midnight needle sticks than to have no Riley at all.