Huge hyperglycemia fit today, familiar from before diagnosis. Kicking, yelling Why do you hate me? Threatening, if you don’t leave me alone I’m going to EAT THIS LEGO. Two parent hold arms, sit on legs, try prick finger for test. Flailing. Look out! He’s going to break your nose! Bigfoot laughing because ridiculous scene, but also little bit afraid. Bigfoot Spouse make move for naked toe. Not my toe! Okay! I’ll test! Just don’t do my toe!
Bigfoot hand Bubs Fastclix—Bubs rip device apart, chuck Fastclix pieces across room. I’ll never test! You can never make me test! I’d rather die than do the stupid test! More wrestle. 350 lbs. adult power not enough get good angle. More struggle. Get test done: 332. Crap. Need injection. Bigfoot lie across Bubs while Spouse fill syringe. Almost as soon as inject:
BUBS: Wow, sorry I was so unreasonable back there
BIGFOOT: Are you feeling better?
BUBS: (Smiles weakly) I guess so. Actually, no. For this whole time that I’ve not been crying, I’ve just been trying not to burst into tears, you know what I mean?
BIGFOOT: Can I give you a hug?
BUBS: Yes, please. (Collapses tiny bit.) And I know that this is probably a no, but could you also make me a cup of tea?
D-camp tomorrow. Big orange duffel, sleeping bag, headlamp, new toothbrush, deliberate over which Ugly Doll, maybe Ugly Doll plus Ugly Pillow? Maybe three Ugly Doll plus Ugly Pillow, because Ugly Dolls are pretty small, you know? Ready. Leave for camp after lunch tomorrow—all summer camp feel far away. Now camp. Tomorrow. Metal bar press down Bigfoot heart.
As if first time thought cross mind, Bigfoot Spouse today wonder, Who’s going to take care of him? Bigfoot remind: all of the kids there have diabetes, remember? The whole thing is set up so they’re safe. That’s the point of the camp! BSPOUSE: I know, but it’s sort of unbelievable. I can’t believe it exists.
For final pre-camp dinner, Bubs choose Antonio’s pizza/ballyhooed Froyo World Frozen Yogurt Lounge. Pizza slice, maybe 5 x 7″? 4 x 6″ + puffy. Puffy thick or puffy airy? Bigfoot guess 30g CHO. Try anticipate Froyo World, where each patron determine serving size use formula greed ÷ shame. Dispense into giant paper cup, then apply toppings. Fresh fruit or: Heath bars, gummy bears, Reese’s Pieces, Lucky Charms minus cereal part, Snickers, caramel turtles, Frooty Pebbles, peanut brittle, Cookie Crisp cereal, cookie dough extrusion, plus squirt-on corn syrups/assorted flavo-colors. Predict 100g CHO for conservative estimate.
6.25 units for 100g. Combo 60-40% over 1/2 hour, as if old pro.
After pizza, walk to bustling Froyo World. When see Bubs’s concoction, think way over 100g CHO. But also think there’s no way he will eat all of that. Halfway point, bolus 1.5u more. You know, you don’t have to eat all of it. BUBS: No! I’m fine! I want to! Bolus 2.5 more. Carbliest meal ever: 175g CHO.
Then think that can’t be right. He couldn’t possibly eat that much. Try figure out how abort Combo Bolus. Can’t do on remote. Or can’t see how. Math math math again. Yes. Total really 175g-ish CHO. Reassure self math math math over again. Bubs near final bites. Really, truly: 10.25u accurate dose. Really. Probably.
On way home, think this is going to be way too much insulin simultaneous this is definitely not enough insulin. Not want brag, but after get home, bike ride (glucagon case rattle against basket every bump/tree root): 220. If no IOB, would need 1.37u correction, but 1.92 IOB! Day-um. Pretty close.
OR will be high 2AM, delayed rise due to fatty. OR way too big dose, but insulin too hot so weak. (OR insulin bubbly). OR too small dose but bike ride amplify insulin power. OR something re camp anxiety or growth hormone. OR will be best night ever.