It's been a rough week. On Thursday the 17th of January, I was reversing out of the driveway on my way to work. Michael came out of the house with his phone in his hand saying that Gemma's school had just called to say that Gemma was in the office, passed out and unresponsive. He was very calm, and I, at that point momentarily hesitated, thinking he should rather go to the school. I was going to work early to help set up for the day. After Michael relayed the message that she wasn't responding, I immediately reversed out and headed to the school, not for a minute considering taking her Glucagon injection - many lessons were learnt that day, and that was one of the first - take an extra 2 minutes to make sure we pack that in straight away.
Luckily we live in a small city, her school is only 3 km's away. I arrived at the school, and there were roughly 5 teachers around her. She was lying on the couch in the office, drenched in sweat and completely unresponsive. By this time, somebody had managed to track her lunchbox down, and were able to test her. (She was at the time, wearing a Freestyle Libre sensor on her arm, that one can just scan on the arm and get an immediate reading). Her sugar was LO on the screen, and I saw that that had been the trend for at least an hour.
I had nothing with me to help the situation. The headmistress of the school carried Gemma to the car for me, and ensured that I had a teacher in the backseat sitting with Gemma. I phoned Michael on the way home and instructed him to get the Glucagon ready. I administered the Glucagon as soon as possible, and Michael must have carried her to her bed. I don't remember specifics at that point.
I lay with her on the bed, and it was only at that point that I realised she had had a full blown seizure. Her hands were clenched in an outward position, bent up towards her chest. There was absolutely no way to straighten them for her. Her mouth and eyes were shut tight. The longest few minutes of my life unfolded before me, as I waited for the glucagon to kick in. Sitting helplessly, waiting for her body to slowly start relaxing. First her arms relaxed, and I was able to open her finger, and lay her arms by her side. Then her mouth and eyes opened slightly, and lastly her tongue, which was curled up touching the top of her pallet relaxed, and I knew I could breathe again.
It was 09:30 am, and I needed to be at work by 10:00. Michael had remained outside fixing our electric gate that was stuck, and once Gemma had come to, I ran outside asking him to please phone my boss to cancel my class I was to run. He calmly responded saying that he would be at home to look after Gemma. We both went back in to check on her. She was asleep, but her sugars were starting to rise and her body had completely relaxed. Knowing she was in Michael's care, I was able to leave her.
Later in the day I put a post on Facebook, wanting to thank the school for everything they had done to get her into safe hands, and especially to the girl who found her. That in itself, I believe, was an absolute miracle. As I understand, the Grade 7's, were heading upstairs. One of the girls, Gretha, decided to have a race with the class, and ran up a different flight of stairs. Gretha plays squash with Gemma, and therefore knows she is diabetic. She found Gemma passed out on the staircase, and without even hesitating, picked her up and carried her to the office. Out of at least 1000 girls, the girl to find her was Gretha, whose quick response we will forever be grateful for.
So going back to the Facebook post. Michael asked me if I wasn't being a little over dramatic stating that she had had a seizure. I was totally confused, looked him straight in the eye, and realised at that point, that although he had been the one to carry her to her bed, and laid her down, he had left her in my care as he had gone back to fix the gate. He was not fully aware of her seized body. When I called him back into the room, her body was relaxed, and he had just assumed that she'd had an extreme low, and was now in recovery, as has been witnessed many times in her life.
Michael was very reluctant for me to write this part of the story in my blog, as he didn't want to seem like a bad dad, but it's not like that at all. I think it only shows what trust we have in each other, when one of us is "off duty," the other takes over immediately - and that is how it is with diabetes, there ALWAYS needs to be somebody on duty.
We tried to analyse what had happened. My initial worries were that she is pre-teen and with her body going through changes, I wondered if situations like this were what we would have to continue to be expecting. The other was maybe that she was dehydrated. I chatted to a few friends during the course of the morning, all trying to come up with some theories.
Our little trooper went to squash practise that same day - Michael is the squash coach, so it makes it a little easier. I only saw her again later in the evening, and she came to me and said "Mommy, I know what happened!." Now this is the part where I feel like the bad mom. An awful mistake from my side, a lesson learnt and a mistake that will never happen again.
There was a shortage of infusion sets countrywide. Gemma only had one spare one left, and she was due to go on a playdate the following day. She had so been looking forward to this day. She knew there was a risk of the last and final infusion set not working, or the cannula could have bent, etc, that would have ruined her playdate. We both decided to cheat the system and refill her existing set with more insulin to extend the life for a few more days. I helped her refill the reservoir and then got back to the early morning tasks of making lunch boxes etc etc. She came to me shortly after, and said she doesn't know what happened, but there is no more insulin in the reservoir - it had just disappeared. I was more annoyed than anything, as time was running short before we were all going to be late for school. I ended up inserting the the last and final infusion set, and off she went to school, not for a moment realising what had actually happened.
That insulin that had "disappeared," had in fact not "disappeared" but had been forced up into her. In hindsight, it was so plainly obvious, but life throws us lessons. We are thankful that this lesson was in an environment where she was able to be assisted. It could have happened somewhere else, need I say more?
She had gone to school with a huge overdose of insulin, and if she was wearing her sensor that was compatible with the pump, that day, the pump would have let her know her sugars were low. Needless to say we now carry a month's worth of extra supplies, and she wears the correct sensor.
I sincerely hope, that by sharing this story, it can help somebody else to never make the same mistake we did.
Luckily we live in a small city, her school is only 3 km's away. I arrived at the school, and there were roughly 5 teachers around her. She was lying on the couch in the office, drenched in sweat and completely unresponsive. By this time, somebody had managed to track her lunchbox down, and were able to test her. (She was at the time, wearing a Freestyle Libre sensor on her arm, that one can just scan on the arm and get an immediate reading). Her sugar was LO on the screen, and I saw that that had been the trend for at least an hour.
I had nothing with me to help the situation. The headmistress of the school carried Gemma to the car for me, and ensured that I had a teacher in the backseat sitting with Gemma. I phoned Michael on the way home and instructed him to get the Glucagon ready. I administered the Glucagon as soon as possible, and Michael must have carried her to her bed. I don't remember specifics at that point.
I lay with her on the bed, and it was only at that point that I realised she had had a full blown seizure. Her hands were clenched in an outward position, bent up towards her chest. There was absolutely no way to straighten them for her. Her mouth and eyes were shut tight. The longest few minutes of my life unfolded before me, as I waited for the glucagon to kick in. Sitting helplessly, waiting for her body to slowly start relaxing. First her arms relaxed, and I was able to open her finger, and lay her arms by her side. Then her mouth and eyes opened slightly, and lastly her tongue, which was curled up touching the top of her pallet relaxed, and I knew I could breathe again.
It was 09:30 am, and I needed to be at work by 10:00. Michael had remained outside fixing our electric gate that was stuck, and once Gemma had come to, I ran outside asking him to please phone my boss to cancel my class I was to run. He calmly responded saying that he would be at home to look after Gemma. We both went back in to check on her. She was asleep, but her sugars were starting to rise and her body had completely relaxed. Knowing she was in Michael's care, I was able to leave her.
Later in the day I put a post on Facebook, wanting to thank the school for everything they had done to get her into safe hands, and especially to the girl who found her. That in itself, I believe, was an absolute miracle. As I understand, the Grade 7's, were heading upstairs. One of the girls, Gretha, decided to have a race with the class, and ran up a different flight of stairs. Gretha plays squash with Gemma, and therefore knows she is diabetic. She found Gemma passed out on the staircase, and without even hesitating, picked her up and carried her to the office. Out of at least 1000 girls, the girl to find her was Gretha, whose quick response we will forever be grateful for.
So going back to the Facebook post. Michael asked me if I wasn't being a little over dramatic stating that she had had a seizure. I was totally confused, looked him straight in the eye, and realised at that point, that although he had been the one to carry her to her bed, and laid her down, he had left her in my care as he had gone back to fix the gate. He was not fully aware of her seized body. When I called him back into the room, her body was relaxed, and he had just assumed that she'd had an extreme low, and was now in recovery, as has been witnessed many times in her life.
Michael was very reluctant for me to write this part of the story in my blog, as he didn't want to seem like a bad dad, but it's not like that at all. I think it only shows what trust we have in each other, when one of us is "off duty," the other takes over immediately - and that is how it is with diabetes, there ALWAYS needs to be somebody on duty.
We tried to analyse what had happened. My initial worries were that she is pre-teen and with her body going through changes, I wondered if situations like this were what we would have to continue to be expecting. The other was maybe that she was dehydrated. I chatted to a few friends during the course of the morning, all trying to come up with some theories.
Our little trooper went to squash practise that same day - Michael is the squash coach, so it makes it a little easier. I only saw her again later in the evening, and she came to me and said "Mommy, I know what happened!." Now this is the part where I feel like the bad mom. An awful mistake from my side, a lesson learnt and a mistake that will never happen again.
There was a shortage of infusion sets countrywide. Gemma only had one spare one left, and she was due to go on a playdate the following day. She had so been looking forward to this day. She knew there was a risk of the last and final infusion set not working, or the cannula could have bent, etc, that would have ruined her playdate. We both decided to cheat the system and refill her existing set with more insulin to extend the life for a few more days. I helped her refill the reservoir and then got back to the early morning tasks of making lunch boxes etc etc. She came to me shortly after, and said she doesn't know what happened, but there is no more insulin in the reservoir - it had just disappeared. I was more annoyed than anything, as time was running short before we were all going to be late for school. I ended up inserting the the last and final infusion set, and off she went to school, not for a moment realising what had actually happened.
That insulin that had "disappeared," had in fact not "disappeared" but had been forced up into her. In hindsight, it was so plainly obvious, but life throws us lessons. We are thankful that this lesson was in an environment where she was able to be assisted. It could have happened somewhere else, need I say more?
She had gone to school with a huge overdose of insulin, and if she was wearing her sensor that was compatible with the pump, that day, the pump would have let her know her sugars were low. Needless to say we now carry a month's worth of extra supplies, and she wears the correct sensor.
I sincerely hope, that by sharing this story, it can help somebody else to never make the same mistake we did.