I immediately thought about what time her last bolus was, and knew in my gut that she'd need 2 Starbursts for a boost. I sat through the service feeling distracted. I kept checking my phone, and couldn't stop replaying the scenario in my mind.
When I arrived to pick her up, she told me that half way through she felt low and tested -- 83.
She treated herself with 2 Starbursts, and was feeling totally fine.
I knew it.
For some reason, this seemingly normal, routine, incidental part of our life felt much bigger at that moment.
It felt downright HUGE.
At first I couldn't put my finger on it. I mean, she's been testing her own blood sugar for years.
She's spot on when recognizing her lows, and she knows how to read labels for carb counts.
It was just another fingerprick, right?
Every time a number flashes on the glucometer screen, there are a million variables that run through my brain. When was the last bolus, has she had recent physical activity, what type of carbs did she eat last, have there been recent changes to her pump settings...and on and on and on...
In my mind, there's this decision tree...do this if you get that and these variables are present...do this if you get that and those variables are present. When all else fails, stand on your head while balancing a crystal glass of wine on your big toe.
How did she know?
How did she know that 2 Starbursts would do the trick?
As opposed to 3 Starbursts...or a juice box...or both?
This is one of the most difficult aspects to managing diabetes.
The decision tree.
The flicker of thoughts that automatically start scrolling as you decide what action to take next. They're like reflexes or breathing or something.
You can't put it on paper. You can't tell someone how to manage every possible scenario that could exist at any given moment.
Yet I'm her mom. I feel like it's my job to take notes about her diabetes experiences. I should be authoring a life manual for her personal reference when she's all grown up. It's my job to TEACH her why 2 Starbursts were the answer on that particular day, given those particular set of variables.
I've read the books. I manage her numbers. I'm in control of the pump. I know which types of exercise cause drama. I talk to the doctors. I learn from others in the DOC.
Even still, I don't know.
I don't know how I knew that 2 Starbursts would be the right thing to do.
I just did.
And, apparently, so did she.