The night-time hypo strikes fear into the heart of most diabetic parents.
A hypo; for those who don’t know; is when your blood sugar drops below normal range. In Type 1 Diabetics this is usually because they have too much insulin floating round their system.
In the day the signs are obvious, sweating, paleness, confusion. Treatment is swift and fast: sugar – beautiful sugar that gives the insulin something to do and pushes the hypo away.
If we miss the hypo or don’t treat it, her blood sugar will continue to fall and the risks of seizures and unconsciousness start to rise.
Put simply – you don’t feck about with hypos.
But then night falls, and I put my beautiful girl to sleep with a prick of her finger. I check the numbers, give her a pump a quick glance and a familiar stroke, and leave the room.
When it is dark I can’t see the paleness, when she sleeps she can’t feel a hypo.
Can you see why we feel the fear?
So we check her blood sugars, all through the night.
A test at 10pm determines what we do at midnight, the test at midnight determines what we do at 2am. I think you get the pattern.
We give more insulin when she is high, then cross our fingers and toes and hope it is not too much as to send her low. When she is low, but not quite hypo, we test and test some more. At times her little fingers resemble a pin cushion.
Then sometimes it all goes wrong.
Last night, sleep was all consuming, my lids heavy and a blood sugar reading of 5.5 at 10am did little to improve my mood.
Hypo is below 4 – at 5.5 we can go either way.
Basically, it means the alarm needs to be set.
And so we did, mine for 12am, his for 2am, then sleep welcomed us like an old friend and I was silent, dead to the world until the shriek of the alarm moments later roused me violently.
The reading was 4.6.
Not good; dropping lower, but not low enough to wake her to force sweets into her in the middle of the night. When midnight feasts are allowed by mummy, they seem to lose their fun.
I stumbled back to bed, worried, but exhausted, this being yet another night of padding across the landing in darkness, of broken sleep, of fitful dreams.
I poked he who helped create them, ‘you need to go at one.’ I mumbled, ‘4.6.’
No more words were needed.
He groaned and expertly reprogrammed the alarm, then sleep abducted us once more.
I didn’t hear his alarm, I am programmed only to respond to my own. But at 1.10 I felt an arm shake me awake…
‘4.2, – I gave her a biscuit, you need to do 2am – check she is ok.’
Poor kid, eating the driest of snacks when all you want to do is sleep.
I grunted a response, flicked out my wrist, changed the alarm, spent twenty minutes fretting that a biscuit would not be enough. Then sheer exhaustion overcame me and I gave in to sleep.
Suddenly, I was bolt up right in bed, an icy hand squeezing my heart, the sensation of not doing something was suffocating. The alarm clock next to me was flashing loudly, mocking my mistake.
5.30am
I had missed my alarm, ignored it, switched it off in my sleep.
It was 5.30, was she ok?
Had she gone hypo, was my daughter laying in a haze of low blood sugars only feet away. Had I failed her? was I as redundant as her pancreas.
Nothing is more terrible than the fear and guilt of a diabetic parent who fails to wake up to check their already low child.
As I walked the short distance between her room and mine, I felt the tension spread across my shoulders, tingling into my fingers. The worse case scenario of finding a fitting child was playing in my head. I held my breath, turned the handle, grabbed the blood sugar kit and hoped against hell that she was ok.
5.4
The relief was all consuming, the sight of my beautiful girl safely wrapped in her bed, teddy clutched against her sleeping frame.
This is a night with Type 1 diabetes, this is how the fear of night time hypos feels.
It is a little exhausting….
seriously stressful. I cant imagine this night after night. You do a brilliant job and twin girl is am awesome girlie xx
It’s awful. 🙁 I wake up having panic attacks at the moment. My ds is 15 and only been dxed 4 weeks and still in the honeymoon phase and has hypos like you will believe having been there yourself. Hypos don’t wake him up. He was down to 1.7 one night and I only realised by accident cos I wasn’t due to test for another hour but I sneaked in and he looked off. I’ve taken to sending him to bed a bit on the high side. I’m scared I don’t wake up to test.
Oh my gosh, that must be truly terrifying, as well as pretty much exhausting… 🙁
Blimey Jane, I had no idea that it’s so relentless for you all x
Oh gosh Jane how exhausting. My son was 3lb and for nearly 6 months i had t feed him every 2-3 hours (bf) all the day and the night. I walked around in a completed fuddle. fuddle and fear must be really tough
Oh my what a night, I never realised that fret, the worry, the concern that goes with a simple prick of a finger.
Oh my god. This was a gripping, painful, terrifying post to read. You write like it’s exhausting and a struggle and yet reading between the lines I see that through all that you are coping amazingly well. What a wonderful mum and dad you are, what a lucky little girl. I don’t know enough about childhood diabetes, but I hope it settles soon into something more easily managed for you all. xox
Oh Jane – I just don’t know how you manage it, but yet I realise that you have no other option. Huge hugs x
Oh my goodness, you have me in tears. 🙁 a parent’s worst nightmare you live it day in day out. I admire your strength and courage.
M xx
There are so many parents going through this hidden hell. Our side of it is if the Cheetah Keeper bleeds and doesn’t wake – I go in to find him soaked in blood – pillow, duvet, hair, the lot – nights when he’s bled I don’t sleep – just waiting for the next one, just in case. Solidarity xxxx
When the time came for me to have Burrito Baby, I had to go into hospital and be put on steroids and a sliding scale for 4 days so that my sugars were totally stable when the time came to have my c-section, which meant being woken up hourly to have my blood sugar tested. By the end of those four days, I was exhausted, sore, grumpy and oh, so ready to never have to do it again.
Once again, your little girl has put me to utter shame and I’m in complete awe (and total sadness, too) at how you’re all managing to deal with this, day in, day out.
Much love xxx
I had no idea things were so serious. You guys must be so tired. It must be the most stressful situation to be in. Words seem so meaningless, sending hugs and love x x x
You must be exhausted looking after your precious girl. My heart goes out to you and thank you so much for raising awareness of what life is really like with Type 1. You are an incredible mum and she is a very lucky girl to have you x
Oh my goodness, how stressful. It must be so hard for all of you. x
You are awesome. Exhausted but still awesome. Remember that x
Bloody hell, Jane, that paints such a picture of life with Type 1 diabetes. Never-ending anxiety. Sending love xx
Oh Jane I feel for you and her little soul. I m sort you all have to go through this all. I had a grandfather with diabetes and it was awful..but he was old and he lived his life…I am praying that all will go better from now on…don’t even know if it is possible with type 1 diabetes…I don’t know enough to advice. Praying for a cure and something better to come along to help you and your family.
Big hugs for you xxx
I could hardly breathe reading that. Poor you, poor her. I’ve no doubt your instincts would have woken you if necessary. Have you heard about those dogs who can tell when someone is dangerously low in this situation? xx
Yes, we would love one – but kids far worse off than my type 1 girlie are higher up the list – they are really rare x
I didn’t realise they were specially trained – I thought I’d read about owners dogs doing just that. Must have been mistaken, sorry. Feeling for you xx
Oh Jane, you must be bloody exhausted going through this every night. I knew it was a challenge to manage, but I didn’t know it was this relentless. Much love to you all x
Oh Jane, no I didn’t know either how relentless diabetes is, your writing really helps to raise awareness. Will it always be like this?
Oh God Jane, how bloody stressful…. I don’t know what else to say, apart from I never realised the work and commitment involved to bat the beast away. Is this something she is going to learn to have to do on her own when she’s older – wake herself in the night to check her levels? You and her are awesome. X
Just keep looking after yourselves too ‘cos the broken sleep is tough, my hubbie & I now do alternate nights which seems a little better, at least not such a zombie every other day!! Like having a newborn – I will nap at any opportunity (Waitrose car park a few days ago!).
Bless you darling. I can just imagine how you feel. I slept through a couple of meds alarms when Natty was small and it’s so frightening, but that exhaustion is all consuming. (I actually can’t believe noone has invented a night monitor yet.) Sleep when you can darling.
H x
I had no idea, your post brought me to tears!