Murphy's Law dictates, that if a pump is going to start blaring a "failed delivery" alarm, it will do so at 3:30am.... not 3:30pm. Sigh.
That's how it went down last night. In the middle of the night, Rowan came to tell me she didn't feel good. We tested, I think it was 18 something. So we went to do a correction bolus, and THAT is when the damn machine's bells and whistles started going off. It wasn't the usual "I've finished giving insulin" beep. It was a series of chirps and frantic chimes. "FAILED INSULIN DELIVERY" sigh. Off to the bathroom she goes to pee on a stick to test for ketones. Returns carrying a urinalysis stick that is so purple it's damn near eggplant.
Out come the syringes. Sigh.
Two correction syringes later, I've gotten her blood glucose within a decent range. This morning, she was still producing trace ketones, and her blood glucose was 2.3. Always one extreme to the other.
I could type more. But that would involve keeping my eyes open, and being able to form coherent thoughts. I'm not putting THOSE types of expectations on me today. It was a looooooong night playing artificial pancreas. A night I don't regret. That girl is SO worth it.
One day, I'm going to have to do a post (for my fully functional pancreas audience) on what ketones are, how they appear, and why they're BAD. Until then..... you'll have to wait in suspense! I think a nap is calling my name. If not a nap.... definetely a day of reduced expectations!