Today was the day Eric and I were going to have our special outing to LegoLand, which was a way of making up to him the fact he couldn't go to camp with his brother and cousins.
The trip was an unmitigated disaster.
In an epic Mom fail, we wound up 120 miles from home with absolutely NO INSULIN, because Eric took his pump off without telling me and I did not discover this until we stopped for gas in Malden, MA — and I had STUPIDLY decided I did not need to bring the spare insulin vial because "if I need to give him a shot, I'll just take it from his [newly filled] pump reservoir."
That sound you hear is me, whacking my head repeatedly against my desktop. After 6 years with this damned disease, you would THINK I WOULD KNOW BETTER.
So there I am, at 9:15 a.m., patting myself on the back for being so early and missing all the traffic… and at 9:20 I'm desperately searching for the nearest ER to get some insulin in the boy, because his blood sugar is over 450 and rising.
Moment of absurdity: I went to the place that had been a hospital with an ER when I lived down in Massachusetts 8 years ago, only to find it was under construction. I was panicking, pummeling my brain to think where the next-nearest hospital was, when I spied the union-required State Trooper sitting alongside the construction site. I pulled over and told him I needed to know where the nearest ER was and explained why. "Do you need an ambulance?" he asked. "No, I just need an ER with a doctor who can give the boy some insulin." The statie must have been bored spitless because his next move was to hop in the car, turn on his lights, and lead me to the ER — not at top speed, certainly, but fast enough to make even the Mass drivers think twice about impeding him (and me, following in his wake). So Eric managed to get himself a police escort... although I'm not sure he noticed, since he never looked up from his movie the whole time.
And did Eric get any insulin when we arrived at Melrose Wakefield hospital at 9:30 and told them what the problem was?
No. Of course not. FIRST they had to putz around trying to decide if they should draw blood from him or not. [Um, actually, just stick his finger and I can tell you how much insulin to give him.]
THEN they wanted to put him on an IV in case his fluids were low. [Yeah, they probably are, but if you'll JUST GIVE HIM SOME INSULIN…]
Then the earnest, well-meaning, but not terribly well informed PA wanted me to promise her I'd take him straight home after treating, with hints about the possibility of DKA. I smiled at her and said, "Once he gets the Lantus in him, he's not going to get DKA. We're only down here for a few more hours at best, and the Lantus is good for 24." She argued with me. ME. "I wrote a book on this subject with his endocrinologist," I said. She ignored me. Oy. [HONEY, PLEASE — JUST GIVE THE BOY SOME INSULIN.]
All told, it was 11:45 — nearly TWO AND A HALF HOURS AFTER WE ARRIVED — before someone actually came and said, "So, uh, how much insulin should we give him?" Once dosed, they made us wait 30 minutes to make sure it was working, and viola — he'd dropped 120 points in 30 minutes JUST AS I HAD TOLD THEM HE WOULD.
We finally made it to LegoLand at 1:30. We were out of there by 3:00. I gave Eric $100 worth of Legos just for being such a good sport about the blood draws.