Our stay in the hospital lasted 3 nights and 3 days. It was awful. A little personal info about me that you may not know: I hate blood. Really truly can't even stand the word. I can't tell you how many times I've passed out while having my blood drawn. So it was no surprise that I almost passed out on a couple of occasions while learning how to do blood glucose (bg) checks. I'm pretty used to it by now, seeing my baby's blood 12-15 times a day starts to desensitize a person. However, if I'm not feeling well or am really tired, getting a "bleeder" still makes me all gooey. In fact, just thinking and writing about it makes me all gooey and I am now going to save this and take a break!
Ok, I'm back. The first night was just being up all night while the nurses tried to bring his blood sugar down. They had one "bed" (some sort of fold out thing that shouldn't be used for anything more than to torture a prisoner through sleep deprivation). Our first day was for starting to learn about diabetes and how to care for it. I don't remember a whole lot about that day. I have snapshots of things here and there. I remember trying to get Ashton to eat (his appetite still had not come back), I vaguely remember moving out of the NICU. For some reason, I was up all night the night before we went to the hospital, so I was barely functioning anyway, without even considering the whole emotional drain.
Chadd and I decided that I would go home and sleep for the second night of our hospital stay. Prior to this I always thought that there was no way I would ever be able to leave my baby at the hospital. But as exhausted as I was, I was useless. I hadn't retained any of the information that was given to us that day. I couldn't see straight. I couldn't read the book that they gave us. I knew that I had to sleep so that I could start learning how to take care of my son. So I went home.
The next morning I showed up with Starbuck's for me, and McDonald's for Chadd and Ashton. I remember at this point our nurse, and how great she was at painting a visualization of the things that were going on inside Ashton's body. I was able to start studying and doing blood sugar tests. I also remember giving my first injection. I cried, but I don't think I threw up. Chadd slept at home that third night, and I stayed with Ashton, in a very quiet hospital where it seemed like time moved slower than the rest of the world.
I hated being in that hospital, but I was terrified to leave. There were no nurses at home. No emergency call button. No one to reassure you that you were doing fine. I was leaving the hospital more clueless this time than I was when I first gave birth to Ashton. I was bringing home Ashton and Betes. I had no idea what I was doing, but it didn't seem too bad because I had Chadd with me.
And then Chadd had to go back to work.
The hardest part, at the time, was finding the confidence to believe I was doing the right thing. For all that they know about diabetes, and for how far and fast they have come with understanding and treatment of this disease, the day to day care still comes with a lot of guesswork: If he was at a borderline blood sugar on the insulin scale, should I go higher or lower with the dose? Was there too much leak back from the injection site? Did he have enough to eat? Will the extra 1/2 a carb skyrocket his sugar? Can I sleep for three straight hours or do I need to set my alarm to check him in two?
We have come so far in how we understand this disease in Ashton. We are not fools enough to believe that we have a real handle on anything, diabetes is too unpredictable. But our guesses and intuition are based on a lot of experience of trial and error. I'm happy to say that we have had more good days than bad. And even though the bad days are far between, there are still times when I just don't know what the hell to do and I fell like I've just been let out of the hospital.
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