We just returned from beautiful Lake Tahoe where we had our first D-vacation, and the firsts didn’t stop there. Lake Tahoe, of course, is at altitude; the area where we were was about 6200 feet. What a difference some feet makes.

Ainsley started running low the first evening we arrived.  The next day we battled it all day with extra snacks and extra checking, trying to keep things just right. I was actually pleased that she was running lower than usual and getting to eat more. That night I decided to check her earlier than my usual 10:30pm and she was at 64. I didn’t panic – I put some Pediasure in a sippy cup and came back to wake her and give it to her, something we do often when she’s lower than desirable at bedtime. Except I couldn’t wake her.  When touching her and calling her name had no effect, I started rubbing her chest and then pounding it while yelling, “AINSLEY WAKE UP!”  We turned on all the lights. Her head was just lolling on her neck.  We were at full panic mode and ready to break out the glucagon pen when she started crying, which was an improvement, but wouldn’t open her mouth for the drink.  Some piece of myself floated outside my body and looked down on the scene: me, trying to force my fingers into my 2 year old daughter’s mouth and pry her jaws open as she cries with her eyes rolling back in her head. That one is definitely going into the record books.

I was starting to think we’d have to use the pen anyway when we finally got her to drink up.  We gave her 4oz, which at home would have put her well over 200. She went up to 83. Another 4 oz only brought her over 100.  The next day, after consulting with a CDE, we took her off all scheduled insulin and just . . . waited. And tested. A lot.

Then commenced two days of getting our old daughter back. She ate what she wanted when she wanted. She ate entire bowls of fruit and even a gelato without issue. She positively lit up at mealtimes when I told her SURE she could have milk with that and NO PROBLEM she could  have extra french fries. She was energetic and cheery and always felt good. The difference was noticeable.  It was delightful. It was heartbreaking.

She began rising again before we even left. Since then we’ve been struggling to get back onto an insulin routine that keeps her pretty stable and it’s not working out well. There’s definitely some honeymooning going on, but not enough.  After that brief, bittersweet respite . . . no, not nearly enough.