Moving On Up

The waiting took forever. It was something I got used to over the next two days, or at least tried to get used to. We waited for the results to come back from the lab. I read Ivy Ramona and Beezus. It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but it was something I grabbed in my rush to pack things to try to keep Ivy occupied. I read so much my throat started to hurt. I'm sure I stepped outside to make phone calls and smoke. But mostly, we just waited.


The doctor came back with the results. Ivy's blood sugar was 367. Diagnosis: Type 1 diabetes. I wasn't shocked. I was expecting it. Nathan argued with the doctor about admitting Ivy. He didn't understand why we couldn't just go home. Looking back, I think he was in denial. There couldn't be something wrong with HIS kid. The doctor looked at him and very plainly said that diabetes can be fatal if it's not controlled. I don't know if that's what did it for him, but Nathan stopped arguing.


We kept waiting. Now we were waiting for a room upstairs. We read, watched tv, Ivy colored. The nurse gave Ivy a game to play that she got to keep. More results came back. There were ketones in Ivy's blood. The doctor explained that when the body can't burn carbs for energy because it doesn't have insulin, it begins to burn fat. Ketones are the bi-product of the fat burning and it's not good. This new information earned Ivy a bed in the picu. I actually still wasn't shocked and was still calm. I kept thinking about Dr. Amy and silently thanking her for preparing me so well only a few hours earlier in her office. The nurse made the picu sound great... private room, more attention. It's still the picu, though.


Still waiting. The ER gave Ivy dinner. She hadn't eaten since lunch and was famished. The picu nurses later cursed the ER for doing this, since it elevated Ivy's blood sugar more, but at the time it was a welcomed meal for a hungry little girl. Finally, Ivy's room was ready. Ivy got to ride in a wheelchair. We told her she was a princess and got to be pushed everywhere she went. It made her smile, and she made me promise she could have another wheelchair ride in the morning. Up we went, to the sixth floor, where we would spend the next 48 hours of our lives, Ivy's first 48 hours as a diabetic.