Smoke detector batteries
Damn. Ambushed.
I didn’t even feel it coming. Of course. I never do.
But where was the frickin’ DexCom? It’s supposed to prevent things like this.
47 mg/dL flashed at me from the face of the Presto Meter.
Hello low. I haven’t seen you for a while.
I don’t know if it was the surprise, or the lack of sugar reaching my brain, but I just sat there like an idiot, staring at the number.
Rio leaned over to look at the meter. “Hey, there’s only two digits!” he said.
Then he jumped up, shouted “Hooray!” and bolted from the room. About 30 seconds later he came bounding back in waving a glucagon emergency kit, “I’ve been dying to use one of these for years!”
Fucking Christmas in January.
When Rio turned five I taught him how to use a glucagon ER kit, and he’s been dying to stick me with it ever since.
Lucky for me, his mother intervened first, with glucose fluid. Then a brownie, then potato chips (we can argue about optimum choices some other day). Then a bowl of cereal. Then crackers. The low was a stubborn bastard. I’m not sure how or where it came from, but it took almost 100 carbs to get my head above water again. And poor Rio didn’t get to use the glucagon.
Good thing, as it turned out.
About an hour later, my brain functioning again (at least as well as it ever does), we decided to review the somewhat obtuse inject-mix-pull-inject process of using the ER kit. That’s when I noticed the expiration date.
Oops.
My break-glass-in-case-of-emergency to save-my-ass medication had expired.
I didn’t even feel it coming. Of course. I never do.
But where was the frickin’ DexCom? It’s supposed to prevent things like this.
Hello low. I haven’t seen you for a while.
I don’t know if it was the surprise, or the lack of sugar reaching my brain, but I just sat there like an idiot, staring at the number.
Rio leaned over to look at the meter. “Hey, there’s only two digits!” he said.
Then he jumped up, shouted “Hooray!” and bolted from the room. About 30 seconds later he came bounding back in waving a glucagon emergency kit, “I’ve been dying to use one of these for years!”
Fucking Christmas in January.
When Rio turned five I taught him how to use a glucagon ER kit, and he’s been dying to stick me with it ever since.
Lucky for me, his mother intervened first, with glucose fluid. Then a brownie, then potato chips (we can argue about optimum choices some other day). Then a bowl of cereal. Then crackers. The low was a stubborn bastard. I’m not sure how or where it came from, but it took almost 100 carbs to get my head above water again. And poor Rio didn’t get to use the glucagon.
Good thing, as it turned out.
About an hour later, my brain functioning again (at least as well as it ever does), we decided to review the somewhat obtuse inject-mix-pull-inject process of using the ER kit. That’s when I noticed the expiration date.
Oops.
My break-glass-in-case-of-emergency to save-my-ass medication had expired.
Two years ago.
posted by Wil | 1:49 PM
|
6 comments
