$4.00 therapy day

It’s 10:30 p.m.

Sebulsky is pulling another long night at the office and I’m sitting here finishing off a bag of .99 cent pork rinds and a $3.00 bottle of merlot while trying to find some deeper meaning to life.

Feelings. I seem to have an overabundance of those lately.

Which is why I just haven’t been able to hit that publish button… delete makes much more sense.  

So I’m going to vomit out some sentences that probably won’t make sense… and should really just be scribbled in a journal marked “for my eyes only” hidden in a bed side drawer….. BUT…. because it’s the digital age… and social media is all the rage… and I battle with insomnia…  and I can’t stop eating these pork rinds... yep… here it comes….  

Harper:

Harper starts Montessori tomorrow. We have to wake up early. I dread it. She’s nervous-  an emotion I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed from her before - which makes me worry. She’ll do great. It’s just me.

I wanted things to go smoother on the first night before school… fix a favorite dinner… go out for orange leaf… read “the night before the first day of school” have her journal her emotions… what she thinks it will be like, what she’s excited about… nervous about…  give her a heads up about the schedule and what tomorrow will “look like.”

I expected her to be in bed at 8:00.

Instead

I forced her to lay down and stay down at 9:00. I took her book away at 9:10 which resulted in tears. Saul began wailing at 9:15. He went to bed with a BG of 380… which means I’ll have to get back up to check him and ketones in about an hour. His site should have been changed today but I didn’t do it.

She went to sleep. crying.

She went to sleep crying on the night before the first day of school.

Saul:

One of the hardest questions for me to answer from folks is “How’s he doing?”

I typically say “aww… he’s doing good” or “we’re adjusting” or “things are getting better… the pump is great.”

That’s what I said to my neighbor on Saturday, Mike the Pharmacist on Sunday and my co-workers at school on Monday.

I generally think most people assume I exaggerate his condition. Sometimes I even question myself. Am I over cautious? Is he sick? Should I have forced myself to go back to work? Has he ended up in the hospital?  Are his A1C’s bad? Has he gone into DKA?  Diabetic coma? Are we not “managing” just fine?

And then… it will happen.

Out of the blue.

When I’m off guard.

When I blow off his situation.

When I forget.

I picked up Harper and MD this afternoon from a play date with Isla and Julia. I thought Saul was acting strange in the car on the ride home but I chocked it up to needing a nap.

I got the girls out first. When I went to get him out I noticed he looked bad… terrible actually. I picked him up and set him on the sidewalk and he fell over. I kinda chuckled and told him to get up. He whimpered but didn’t move… I picked him up and he went limp. lethargic. lifeless.

I carried him to his crib. He was unresponsive… no talking … no crying. Sweat was pooling on his forehead, dripping down his cheeks… his pillow was wet.

40.

I grabbed the skittles off the dresser and shoved them in his mouth. I grabbed his hand… he didn’t even squeeze.

This wasn’t his first low. But. This was the first low he’s had where he was scared.

It was all in his eyes and eye movement. He was terrified. It was almost like he had no idea what was going on.

It’s been the worst episode yet.

It took 45 min to get him up to 111 at which point he fell asleep.

He woke up and was 61.

I suspended the pump.

He was 350 an hour later.

Some days I wanna say “he’s not doing good” some days “we’re not adjusting” some days “things aren’t better” some days “even though the pump is great… I still have to be his pancreas and do all the work.”

Me:

It’s easy for me to get hung up on stuff, to question myself, doubt my decisions my actions or lack thereof- it would be nice if I got hung up on all “the other” stuff.  If I focused on how great my life is. If I publicly acknowledged how much I appreciate an amazing, hard-working husband who is a fantastic Dad… If I expressed my gratitude to both sets of our parents who still come to our rescue when we need them…  who…  without them… the life I am currently living would not be possible.  

It’s 11:30 p.m.

I’m scraping the bottom of the pork rind bag… only crumbs.

The last sip of my gas station wine is gone.

Jeff is still at work.

Both kids are sleeping.

I’m calling it a day. I’m calling it a $4.00 gas station therapy kinda day.