Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Brain Matters

Recently, Madeline had her 3 month diabetes check up. And the dreaded A1C. Madeline has been on an insulin pump since May, so I really had no idea what to expect this time around. I review the numbers, charts and graphs every week, but it's those sneaky numbers that don't get caught that end up biting you in the butt.

I remained calm on the drive in to the hospital. I remained calm in the waiting room. I did not remain calm when I decided to test Madeline 2 minutes before we were called in for her A1C and saw a great big 340 on the meter. How could this happen? Curse you Jimmy Dean breakfast biscuit with sausage!!!

I suppose with anything diabetes, it's just another kick in the arse to remind you why you have to come every 3 months for tests.

Of course we were called in to our appointment before I could even get a correction going on her pump. Damn timely office appointments. The correction was made one minute before she stuck out her finger for that drop of blood. My heart sank.

We head into the exam room and do the ritual of health questions and concerns (Concerns? Who me? Why do you ask?) and how are we doing with Madeline's overall care. My eyes are scanning every piece of paper in front of me, but I can't see the elusive A1C number anywhere. This must be bad. They must be shaking their heads and trying to find a way to break the news to me.

Before my mind could slap me around any further, I was given my diabetic grade (the rule says to not treat A1C's as a report card, but rather a learning tool. Right. Tell that to my abusive brain).

7.4%. Can I have a woot woot!! That is the lowest A1C in over two years for Madeline.

Instead of my brain slapping me around, we were slapping high fives! Any doubt I may have had with Madeline going on an insulin pump is gone. It is very clear the pump has given us so much more control than injections. It hasn't even been 5 months on a pump, so I remain optimistic for even better A1C's in the future.

To Madeline, it was just another number.  She has bigger things to be working on right now, like learning to ride a bike without training wheels.

I am not allowed to help her.

I make her nervous.

How ironic.

No comments:

Post a Comment