Diabetes and such.

Today is already starting out to be much better than yesterday was, thank goodness!  My knees are killing me, but hey, if something wasn't hurting, I'd wonder what was wrong.

So just when I thought the day couldn't get any worse yesterday, I was sorely mistaken.  I had a family member question my motives and my intentions, that sucked, and I'm still pretty pissed about it.  Like I wouldn't put my family first?  Ugh, whatever.  Then Adam almost died.  Yes, lemme tell you zee story.  He has type one diabetes as I've mentioned before.  That's the juvenile type.  He got it at fourteen.  Type one and type two are totally different.  With type two, which is caused by obesity and/or family hereditary, your body still creates insulin, it just doesn't accept it.  With type one, insulin dependency and an auto-immune disease, your body doesn't make insulin whatsoever.  That's why they need to supplement with insulin via needles.  With type two, you watch your diet to keep your sugars from getting high.  Type one is a total guessing game.  You have to count your carbohydrates and hope you shoot up the right amount of insulin to cover it.  Too much, you can get very low blood sugars.  Not enough, you can get very high blood sugars.  Adam's been doing well with his sugars, but after said family member insulted me last night, it brought on quite the emotions in both of us.  It was very hurtful, rude, and completely unnecessary to even mention.  The conversation from this lead to emotional distress, which lowers your blood sugars.  He got very low.  A healthy blood sugar range is between 70-120.  He was at 30.  Diabetics have died from being in the 30's.  He had been low for a while I guess, but I didn't know because we were very into our conversation.  By the time I knew something was wrong, he had passed out.  Yes, honest to goodness passed out.  He rolled off the bed and was crumpled up on the floor.  I had to yell at him to get the answers I needed.  Yes, he was low, that was it.  He gets low all the time, it's never a big deal.  He just gets something to eat and that's the end of it.  For him to pass out, it was very bad.  I ran to the kitchen, grabbed his blood sugar monitor and checked him.  30.  I knew it was bad.  I flew to the kitchen and started to make hot chocolate for him.  I tried guessing how much powder to put into it, too much and he would get low again later.  The girls were still awake and came to talk to me.  "Go talk to dad and keep him awake!"  They came into the room thinking their daddy was playing a game.  They started laughing and saying, "daddy, you're so silly, what are you doing?"  I flew in with the cup of hot chocolate and yelled, "daddy's NOT playing, it's his diabetes and he's very low.  He's in big trouble."  The mood shifted quite severely.  Alee watched with glazed over eyes muttering, "I don't want daddy to die."  Sonja sat behind him rubbing his back.  I had to literally lift my husband of 165 pounds back onto the bed, he wasn't moving.  I thought it was already too late at this point.  He wasn't responding except for the occasional moan not to make him drink the hot chocolate.  I told him he didn't have a choice.  I told him Alee and Sonja were in the room watching him and he had to do it for them.  Alee begged her dad to drink the hot chocolate.  He wouldn't open his mouth.  I threatened to call an ambulance and have them deal with him.  Needles, an overnight stay, all the nasty things that come with the hospital.  At first he agreed, he thought it was too late, also.  I knew waiting ten minutes for an ambulance could be detrimental to his health though.  His brain was already starving to death, screaming for food.  I forced open his mouth and poured the hot chocolate down his throat.  He didn't have the strength to lift his head, so I lifted it for him while I crammed liquid down his throat.  He had already soaked all the way through his shirt, sweater and jeans from sweat.  I was surprised at how pale and clammy he was.  The liquid that didn't make it to his mouth soaked him even more.  We got half of the hot chocolate down and he begged me not to make him drink anymore.  I checked his sugars again.  37.  "No, baby, you have to drink a little more, ok?"  He was even more delirious at this point and wouldn't even let me hold his head up anymore.  We laid him back and I poured the drink in his mouth.  Five minutes later he was back up to 109.  He couldn't recall what had happened.  He thought he had been in a different room.  The only thing he could remember was being in really bad shape.  The girls hugged their daddy, grateful he pulled through.  They told him they loved him, and were worried sick.  He got low again, two hours later, with his sugars at 48.  He was much better off this time and I was able to make him hot chocolate that he could drink himself.  The guy's already had a stroke and a heart attack.  Alee asked why daddy would have to live with this.  I told her God must have thought daddy was extra special so he let it happen.  "Why would God let bad things happen if he loved daddy?"  "Because trials make you stronger.  He must have felt daddy was a very tough person who could handle more.  The more you survive, the stronger you become."  She understood and agreed her daddy must be pretty darn special.  "You girls have some sick parents, ya know that?"  They giggled and we realized sitting there, all four of us cuddling, how much our family means to us.  That there is no opportunity, no possession greater than what we were holding in our arms at that very moment.

"...I would that ye should remember, that as much as ye shall put your trust in God even so much ye shall be delivered out of your trials, and your troubles, and your afflictions, and ye shall be lifted up at the last day."  

-Alma 38:5