Our last night before a cleanse for the week, we decided to get one last hurrah in and were quite intoxicated when, watching a show downstairs, we were suddenly surprised to hear the frantic screams of our child up in his room.
It was hard to comprehend at first as it was fast, mumbled and repetitive, but we soon realized as we ran up the stairs that he was screaming “MOMMY, I NEED JUICE!”
The hub started to check his blood immediately as I dashed down the stairs at full speed for the sacred life saving serum – a juicebox. I paused for only the briefest of seconds as I stared at the three last juice boxes we had in the house and decided to take them all up with me. I couldn’t believe we had been so stupid not to have his room stocked. Or that we only had 3 juiceboxes in the house.
2.6 mmols. That’s what his blood glucose level was at.
Not that low.
Low, but certainly not as low as he’s ever been. This is a kid that didn’t notice that he was 1.5 mmols once. So I thought “this is probably just a combination of a night terror (though he’s never had one before) and a low”. But then it got weird and scary. He adamantly refused the juice now and was shaking violently. No words, just violent jerking and screams. I pulled out the glucagon and followed all the instructions layed out before me inside the lid of the kit. Insert syringe, fill glucose bottle with water, shake well, suck up glucose, remove from bottle, stab child in thigh. Having been warned about giving too much Glucagon I only gave him half the dose. The tremors and jerking didn’t subside. Though now he kept seeing images of nurses coming at him with needles and he was violently trying to keep them away. Periodically he would look at me and through his sobbing would ask “what’s happening?” His words were mumbled and his jaw was clenched. Unless he was asking me what was happening, he didn’t know I was there. His eyes looked right through me and he begged for me to come to him. As I sat in front of him trying to comfort him.
His body jerked unpredictably and constantly.
At this point I started to suspect what we were witnessing was a hypoglycaemic seizure, specifically a “partial seizure”. His symptoms covered almost all the signs and symptoms from the onset to the actual thing.
X – Sweating
X – Confusion
Feeling faint or too sleepy
X – Feeling cold or clammy
X – Hallucinations
X – Unexplained emotional behaviors
X – Uncontrollable crying
X – Unaware of surroundings
X – Changes in vision
X – Loss of ability to speak clearly
X – Loss of muscle control
X – Anxiety
X – A trance like state
X – Eyes staring into space
X – Eyes blinking rapidly
X – Inability to respond
X – Uncontrollable bodily movements like jerking
X – Involuntary muscle contraction
All but a few, really.
I knew this was different than Bean’s Febrile Seizure that she had at 18 months old. That one was scary, but there was something distinctly different about this. The one very significant difference was that the blood sugar irregularities that can cause a diabetic seizure can also cause the diabetic patient to lapse into a coma.
We knew it needed to be treated as a medical emergency.
We knew that he was either already having a seizure or that he was quickly on his way there. I stuck him with the rest of the remaining glucagon as my 200+lbs hub desperately fought to keep him from moving.
We called 911.
His eyes, like saucers, filled with terror looked out to who knows where while his body danced badly and uncontrollably on the hard floor. In a moment of “clarity”, or at least in a moment where he realized the hub was with him, he begged his father to keep “them” at bay. So my sweet hub sat there cradling Bear with his arm stretched out warning off the invisible nurses who were attacking Bear with needles.
Finally the glucagon began to take effect. He started to quieten down a bit within the folds of my hub’s strong and calming embrace. He asked for me and he requested to finally drink the juice box. I was talking to the paramedic rep on the emergency line at the time and decided to cancel the ambulance. The entire ordeal lasted from 10:34pm to 10:42pm.
8 minutes. 8 minutes that stopped time entirely.
But it was over now,
As we prepped him to check his blood again the silent tears escaped me. He was too out of it to notice, I’m thankful for that as the warm drops fell hard onto his meter. It is all too real that seizures in diabetics can lead to coma, which can lead to brain swelling and brain injury and all to often to death.
“Diabetes is a serious disease and if blood glucose levels are not regularly monitored and controlled, multiple complications may occur. A hypoglycemic seizure is one of these complications. It is triggered by dangerously low blood sugar levels.This condition may lead toa diabetic seizure. It can be fatal if not treated right away.”
We witnessed too many of those exact types of deaths over the Summer through the media. A little girl, no older than Tig at the time, died of “complications” due to type 1. She fell into a coma (this time because of hyperglycaemia). A boy about Bean’s age died at Basketball camp because of the staff ignoring that he was diabetic when he began to vomit (extremely dangerous to type 1 diabetics). And the list goes on spanning from children to adults.
I’m sitting here as he lays beside me. “mumma, can I sleep with you?”. You better believe it.
I don’t ever want to let you go.
I know he won’t really remember this night, but I will never forget. I can only hope it never happens again. I had just finished telling someone that in the almost three years that we have watched him deal with Diabetes we have never had to use glucagon or to call an ambulance. He has never once had a seizure. That is, until tonight. Isn’t that always the way. Just as soon as you feel confident it will never happen to you, to him, ever.
Not sure I will be able to sleep tonight. I am about to check his blood again and will likely do so multiple times till morning. His face is covered in black face paint as his baseball cheek lines he got from the party he was at today have been rubbed all over him through the thrashing of the seizure. He looks like a messed up clown, and although all I want to do is clean his face…I will let him sleep. Dirty or not he is my sweet son whose disease made me question whether his life was in immediate danger. He can get face paint on my sheets and stick his elbow in my ear while he snores beside me as much as is possible, because he is alive.
As far as we can tell, we just saved our son’s life. Or at least, we very likely did.
And I will never underestimate this disease again.