The title of “Mom” comes with many responsibilities. “Blood Sugar Police” was one I hadn’t planned on. It was one of those jobs I wish I could have politely turned down, but no. I was drafted into the position, like it or not, when my young son was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes at age seven.
Job Training
I received my training at the Children’s Hospital of San Diego, where I learned to jab oranges with a syringe and measure blood sugar levels. (See my blog, “Oranges and Ball Machines: My Training In Caring for My Son’s Diabetes.”) I’ll be honest with you, taking on this responsibility was terribly confining at first. The freedom of mindlessly stopping for burgers while out shopping with my child was gone. The freedom of being blissfully unaware of the time as I fold laundry and watch forensic shows, gone. The freedom to make dinner anytime within say, a three hour range, gone. The freedom of vacation from kids, gone. The freedom of spontaneously making a Friday night ice cream run… gone, gone, gone.
Job Duties
We started with an insulin regimen which involved careful timing and dosing at certain times of the day. That means that every few hours, on the dot, I had to prick my son’s finger with a lancet (similar to one of those click-top retractable pens but with a needle instead of ink), squeeze a drop of his blood onto a tiny piece of plastic, and then watch the glucometer (a pager-size blood sugar counter) count down from 45 seconds, until VOILA! The reading.
- Below 60 Below Normal Range – (Have a little sugar)
- 70 – 150 Within Normal Range
- 150 – 250 Above normal Range (Have a little insulin)
- 250 – 350 High Reading (Drink Water, Have Insulin)
- 350 + YIKES
What was tough about this was, first, I had to constantly go after my son with needles and pins, several times throughout the day, and watch his food intake like a circling hawk. “Wait…you haven’t had insulin for that!” “HEY! You can’t have two helpings without more insulin!” “Why is your blood sugar so high? Did you sneak a snack? Etc.” Not a terrific way to bond.
The second difficult thing was that I had to do MATH. English was always my favorite subject in school. I only liked my math class if a cute guy sat somewhere in viewing range. Now, I’ll admit that for the purposes of these diabetic duties it was simple math, and I could even (hey!) do it in my head. But any job which forces you to do math, in my view, is repugnant. Yet I certainly did it for the sake of my son’s health.
“Give one unit of insulin per every 10 grams of carbohydrates to be eaten, plus one unit of insulin for every 50 that his reading is over 150.”
That’s the stuff I’m talking about. And in order to know how many carbohydrates (“carbs”) were about to be eaten, we had to learn how to measure them by reading box labels or referring to carb-counting books. So these were my duties: Every meal, search through books and read labels. Do the math. Prick the finger. Test the blood sugar. Calculate the dosage. Measure the insulin. Give the shots. Do it again in a couple hours. Juvenile Diabetes is quite a life-changing undertaking.
Retiring From The Force
Like any job, being “the blood sugar police” got easier, and eventually became routine. My son and I fell into a system of doing things that worked, memorizing the carb amounts for our regular meals, and instinctively knowing how to dose for the high blood sugars. However, and here’s the REAL point of this blog (in case you were wondering): The goal for parents of kids with juvenile diabetes should be to get their child to police himself as soon as is reasonably possible.
Here are some things we did to promote my son’s independence with his diabetic care:
- We purchased a kid-size watch with six alarms. We set the alarms for meal times and insulin-dosing times. Thus, when the alarm went off, my son felt as though “he” remembered what needed to happen. It gave him a sense of personal responsibility.
- We insisted that my son to do the math in his head whenever possible. Even though initially my husband and I were giving the injections, we made sure our son understood why we were giving him that particular dosage.
- We made sure he was an active participant in his doctor visits, sitting back and allowing him to answer the doctor’s questions whenever possible. This is hard sometimes, when your instinct as the parent is to monopolize the appointment.
- We enrolled him in a juvenile diabetes summer camp, where he could meet other kids with the same condition and receive additional instruction from camp advisors. These juvenile diabetes camps are terrific—a definite “must do.”
In time, my son was able to do his own carb-counting, test his own blood sugar, and inject his own insulin. It was a scary transition, and I still “policed” him when I needed to. But he’s been entirely independent with his diabetes management since about the age of twelve. And today he’s fifteen. Phew.
I can’t say I’ve completely retired from my “blood sugar police” position. I’d now call myself maybe, a “blood sugar sergeant.” My son polices himself, and I police his policing. “Did you have insulin before eating that?” I’ll ask him. As my husband, who is a real policeman, would say, “Once a cop, always a cop.”
Update: I am now a bloodsugar cop once again. Another son was diagnosed in July of 2006. Read my story by clicking here.