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Five Months.

To my Guy,

Five months old!  (And I’m pretty sure I forgot to write you a letter at the four month mark, so here’s a quick high five for turning four months old a bit back, too.)  Five months ago, I was excitedly awaiting your arrival and folding piles of baby clothes.  Now, I am greeted by your big, toothless smile every morning while you excitedly slap your legs against the crib like a mermaid.

Sorry.  MerMAN.

You are a tiny sweet potato with an appetite for both pears and destruction.  Despite being on the more petite side at the moment (single digit percentile for weight and barely double digits for height), you eat like you are a teenage boy.  In the last few weeks, I’ve had trouble keeping up with your food demand, so we’ve started working in the occasional formula bottle here and there.  I’m still breastfeeding and pumping as often as possible, but you need to eat, so formula is at the ready for the moments when I’m not.

You’re more tolerant about tummy time these days and you spent a lot of time on your play mat.  (Although when you’re feeling done being on your stomach, you fling yourself to the side to roll over, like you’re trying to roll down a hill.)  Just like your sister, you are content to holler happily at the plush animals dangling overhead.  This morning, though, you slammed a rattle against your head and engaged in your first “crying because of little injury” jag.  Real tears. It sucked.  And now you are giving that rattle some major side-eye.  Welcome to the world, little Guy.

Real food is also a recently introduced thing, and you’ve joined us at the table in your very own (belonged to your sister and is more than six years old but whatever – we like to save stuff) high chair.  The food you’ve tried so far are pears, and that first go wasn’t very successful.  Lots of confusion about what on earth a “spoon” is and also WTF “pears?”  But now, a few days and many attempts later, you wait with your hands on the high chair tray all excited, ready for the SPOON! and PEARS! and the mess that follows.

At the table. #milestone

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

In the last few weeks, you’ve gone on your first trip to New York City to meet some friends, slept over at your Grammie’s a few times, and you’ve decided that Loopy is your favorite cat because she has a fluffy tail and she walks circles around you and makes you laugh, while Siah is the one who watches you sleep from afar, not daring to go closer but keeping tabs on you all the same.  The world is starting to crack open and let you peek inside, and it seems like you’re a fan.

It still amazes me, even though I’ve done this once before, how quickly the weeks change you.  You used to be a little thing with half-closed eyes and unable to hold up your own head, snuggled carefully and warmly against me at all hours.  Now you’re this much sturdier little man, smiling all the time and entertained by books, patty cake, and the series of foolish songs we make up and sing to you.  I’m afraid to blink because you’ll be crawling, then running, then refusing to eat your eggs before school every morning.

Time goes by very quickly, and I’m trying to appreciate these moments when you are little.  

Thank you for being part of our family. And for sleeping. And for the smiles that make me feel like I must be doing something right. You’re my littlest friend and I love you bunches.

Love,
Mom

Makeshift Solution.

Arriving at the hotel last night, I realized my insulin pump needed a swap-and-refill.  I pulled out all the necessary supplies for a pump site change and dumped them onto the hotel bed.

The little insulin bottle protector* I use keeps my insulin safe(r).  But it also covers the vial, so I didn’t realize the bottle was all-but empty until I took it out.

“SHIT.”

I get made fun of for being over prepared.  My purse is a cauldron of pacifiers, extra clothes for the little Guy, spare infusion sets, insulin pens, and lip smacker (oh hell yes).  Most of the time, my shoulders are not thankful for this extra crap.

But last night, I was lucky that I had a spare Humalog pen rolling around in my bag, at the ready to refill my empty insulin pump.  After (all ten thousand of) the air bubbles were knocked out, I was good to go.

(Also, weird note:  I had two insulin pens in my backpack, and one was completely empty, all air.  Does the insulin eek out when I’m flying?  Yes, I keep the pen tip attached to the pen.  And yes, after typing all of this, I realize the insulin is probably squirting out when the plane cabin changes pressures.)  

Thanks, sometimes achy shoulders, for lifting all those “just in case” supplies.  And to my brain for knowing those supplies would come in handy at random.

 

* Here’s where you can buy an insulin vial protector.  Clicking on this link does not make me a cent.  But it might protect your insulin bottle from a SMASH.  So get on that.

 

Rewind.

Put test strip into glucose meter.

Prick finger.

Apply blood.

(Yawn as the meter counts down because it’s six in the morning and what’s sleep?)

Look at screen.

Blink.

Pull strip out of the meter.

Toss it into the meter back with all the other dead strips.

Zip up meter bag.

Brush teeth.

As toothpaste foam starts to drool out of my face, promptly forget what the meter result actually was.

Toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, turn meter back on and scroll back through the memory.

See result.

There it is.

Finally register result in brain.

Repeat every single day.

That Low, Though.

The low blood sugar hadn’t rooted firmly enough in my brain yet, but I knew something was wrong.  My feet were heavy against the treadmill belt, and I kept rewinding the show I was watching because the dialog wasn’t making much sense to me.

BEEEEP!  BEEEEP!  BEEEEEEEP! hollered my phone (aka surrogate Dexcom receiver) from the cupholder of the treadmill.

57 mg/dL with the pigeon head facing south.

Dexcom G5. Looks like a cute little pigeon who wants a hotdog until you realize, "Fuck – I'm really low." #diabetes

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

“Oh hey,” I said, all casual, while my brain was throwing itself against the inside of my skull, shouting “That low, though!  Go get something to eaaaaaaaaat!”

Instead, I felt compelled to wait until the treadmill had reached an even number of minutes left (WHY?? This sort of compulsion happens regularly.) before I would head upstairs to grab a snack.

Upstairs, I walked through the living room into the kitchen, passing Chris, who asked, “You okay?” and I responded with a grunted, “Low.”

Reaching the fridge, I opened it up and grabbed the first thing I saw:  an already-opened juice box.  The straw was at the ready, making my fumbling fingers flex with relief.  Slightly dizzy and with the low blood sugar almost fully acknowledged by my mind, I drained what was left of the juice box.

Trouble is, the juice box had apparently been left in the desert to ferment and was then tucked back into the fridge.  The fizzy, nasty grape taste in my mouth woke my brain up completely, only urging me to throw up instead of deal with the hypo.  I ambled over to the sink and stood there, holding the edge of it, the breaking news ticker in my brain reading “DON’T PUKE DON’T PUKE.”

I didn’t puke.  

I chased the fermented juice box with some raisins.  I returned to my work out. I wondered briefly if I was somewhat drunk. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

Dexcom Rash: Updated.

Frigging rash.  The issue first presented itself back in August 2012, leaving me scratching my head and itching my sensor sites for the next four years.

At first, I tackled the problem by trying a pile of different barrier tapes, but the only one that brought about any semblance of relief was the Toughpad.  For about a year, I used a Flovent inhaler (sprayed on my skin before applying the CGM sensor), but I was cautioned against it by my first dermatologist, who cited that the skin would become thinner and compromised after prolonged use.  For the last few years, I’ve used the Toughpad exclusively, and it’s held the rash at bay.

Sort of.

It’s never ever perfect.  I’m still itchy as eff sometimes when I’m in the midst of using a sensor (like right now, with my sensor on my right thigh and the skin around the Toughpad is bright red and I want to scratch it off until my nails break but the low alarm that went off two nights ago saved my ass entirely so I’m leaving the sensor on as long as I can stand it).  The rash doesn’t seem to be concentrated underneath the Toughpad as much as before, but now I appear to be allergic to the Opsite Flexifix tape.  Add that to the fact that I get skin irritation even if I put the new sensor next to any place where a sensor has even BEEN for the last month.

A week or two ago, I went to the dermatologist to further investigate my Dexcom rash and to hopefully find different ways to scratch that itch, so to speak.

The new dermatologist circled me like a shark, only maybe a shark in search of medical journal material.  “You’re having an allergic response to the medical device adhesive?”

“Yes.  Since 2012.”

He paused.  “So just don’t use that medical device?”

“Not an option.”  (Totally not an option, especially these days, when I can’t feel my low blood sugar symptoms and I don’t take action on my high blood sugar symptoms unless the CGM is alarming.  This is why I wear a CGM.  And while I’m taking care of two little kids, this is why I will continue to wear my CGM.)

“Okay …” said the dermatologist, looking at my arm and thighs again, assessing the skin damage.  “A Flovent inhaler, too?  You mentioned using that in the past?”

“Yes, but after being warned it would thin out my skin, I stopped.”

“Good call.  Listen, I think we can try two things:  a topical steroid cream, or a non-steroid topical cream.  I would like try the non-steroid one first, because the same skin-thinning issue would happen otherwise.”  He handed me a prescription.

We scheduled a follow up appointment and I was sent on my scratchy way.  The cream, it turns out, comes with a dozen different creepy warnings that have made me very reluctant to try it while breastfeeding my son, but I did put a little bit on my rash and, within the hour, my rash was on fire and the urge to itch was all consuming.  I’m not touching this stuff again until after I’m done breastfeeding, and even then I’ll be very conservative, in case I’m allergic to this shit, too.

I’m not sure what people are doing these days to manage their adhesive irritations, but I’m reaching the end of my available skin real estate.  Any advice out there? It’s been a very long few years of wearing the CGM 24/7 and I’ve just about run out of sites that aren’t already scaly and raw.  I hear rumors about a “sensitive” adhesive being released by the Dexcom team, and about certain elements being removed from the current adhesive makeup, but until those products are shipped to my house and not sending my skin into circus mode, I’m at an itchy loss.

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