The Gatorade Trick

I have no official connection to Gatorade, and this is not medical advice, but marching band practice is well underway here, and I have stocked up...

Gatorade's low-carb G2 is my daughter's go-to drink for evening marching band practice.

We first tried G2 for middle school volleyball which was a slow-paced, instructional, noncompetitive evening rec. league activity. We tried it mostly as a compromise because middle school is the era of 'all my friends are...,' and all her friends brought Gatorade to volleyball. As it turned out, it also helped her end up with better blood sugars than on the nights she didn't take it to practice.

There are eight grams of carbohydrate in twelve ounces of G2.  About that amount, poured over an abundance of ice and sometimes diluted with water to fill a large container, sipped slowly over the course of a 3 hour marching band practice, is just about right. Infusing just a few carbs per hour to burn off immediately seems, for her, to keep the lows at bay.

We've tried, as an alternative to this plan (generally when I've neglected to stock up at the grocery store), bolusing less insulin for pre-practice dinner, which just leads to an immediate spike. We've set temp basals, which lead to overnight highs. The Gatorade is what works for her.

Two years in, there have been 2 occasions when she's had to sit on the sidelines for a few minutes for a significant low to come up. That's with hundreds of hours of practice and performance.

It's obviously not just the Gatorade. A solid, healthy meal before practice, assessing the Dexcom or glucometer at breaks and reacting accordingly, and having a well-stocked bag of diabetes tricks including healthy snacks and fast-acting carbs are among countless factors crucial to staying in range enough to participate and enjoy the activity.  But on occasions when I've neglected to replenish the Gatorade supply things have not worked out as well.

The Owl Bag is in the Orange Toolbox

"The owl bag is in the orange toolbox," the text read.

Nope. This isn't where I reveal that we're part of an intriguing spy ring.

The owl bag is, in fact, a small insulated cosmetic bag which currently holds a glucagon kit, one-touch mini meter, strips, a lancet and a pouch of glucose gel.

The orange tool box is a standard-sized portable toolbox which holds a vast array of items useful for repairing band instruments. Screwdrivers of all sizes with screws to fit everything from a piccolo to a marimba, pliers and wires, glue and assorted tape, reeds, mouthpieces and so much more are all housed in this very heavy toolbox which travels to the field for every rehearsal and with the band for every game, competition and concert.

We turned over the owl bag before summer band rehearsals began for freshman year. Over the course of that first year, it could be found in the director's desk drawer, in his messenger bag and on the sidelines of the football field. Last summer, at the start of summer rehearsals, I received the above cryptic text from my daughter. The band director, wisely we think, decided that if the owl bag was always in the orange toolbox, then it would always be in close proximity to the band.

We removed the owl bag from the toolbox and handed it over to the nurse who went on the recent overnight music department trip. It held just the right collection of things the nurse needed to carry. The day the kids returned to school post-trip, I was reassured by a mid-day text from my daughter:

"The owl bag is back in the orange toolbox."

Mission accomplished.

Thankful

Unlike last year's expedition, which could have been subtitled, 'airplane flight to 5 days of walking in chaotic environments,' this year's music department trip seemed like a manageable adventure. It was a four hour bus trip to spend 3 days and 2 nights in and around an interesting city. Because of the presence of a great school nurse, concerned chaperones and staff, and friends who have my daughter's back, we decided, with my daughter, that she'd travel without a parent. Here's the note [with awkward edits for privacy] I sent to the band director on the Monday after this year's trip:

Just a note to say thanks for a great music trip.

 

What a nice opportunity it was for the kids to attend Thursday's concert.  [My daughter] was especially excited to see such an incredible piano concerto performed. 

 

Between the concert, the chance for feedback and work on the concert band's competition pieces, and a fun and interesting collection of places to explore with friends, [my daughter] had a terrific time.

 

We're always happy to be involved in the life of the band, including chaperoning. But we're also grateful for the steps you and [the high school] as a whole have taken to allow [my daughter] to participate fully and safely without us present, encouraging her growing independence both diabetes-wise and beyond.

 

Looking forward to hearing tomorrow night's performance!

I mailed a similarly thankful note to the nurse who accompanied the kids on the trip. My daughter was in touch with her regularly via text, and they always knew where the other was. The nurse carried a little bag (within her giant 'nurse bag') with glucagon, glucose gel, and a spare meter set. Her assistance was never needed.

These notes reflected my acute awareness that my child was fortunate to have such a fun and positive trip.  There are other kids who are allowed to have these kinds of experiences but with much less quality support. And there are kids who are told (illegally but indisputably) that they can't participate at all. For three days Dexcom Share was my most-used app. The texts about the frosted flakes for breakfast and the bus full of rice crispy treats were cringe-worthy. But mostly, I'm thankful.

Share Scare

Marching band practice started at 6:30.  Soon thereafter my phone started emitting a sound alarmingly similar to a fire alarm in a large building.  I grabbed it and discovered this:

 

I don't text my daughter for moderate lows in the 60's range. Those I trust she can handle just fine on her own, just like she did 3 weeks ago before we had this technology.  The same is true, so far at least, for any issues at school.  She's got teachers, friends, and a school nurse there to help her. 

 

But this was unsettling.  The band was outside.  It was getting dark.  What if she'd stepped aside to check and nobody noticed her?  I texted:

 

My phone is alarming about this low...assume you're treating it?

 

Five minutes passed with no response. It felt like 15. The next time the number updated it was 46, still straight across. I could hear the band from the high school, just up the hill from our house. I texted again:

 

???

 

A few more minutes passed and another glance at my phone showed me this disconcerting screen:

 

As the minutes continued to creep by with no return text, I considered all kinds of possibilities. Was she:

 

Keeled over in the dark on the sidelines somewhere far away from her phone and supplies?

 

Being taken care of by a responsible adult somewhere not near her bag?

 

Still marching, unaware she was this low?

 

Perfectly fine and wearing a 12 day old Dexcom sensor that was giving flaky information?

 

I started to gather my shoes and my jacket.  How long was it okay to wait before going?  How horrified would she be if I showed up there and it was a false alarm?  What if I didn't go and it wasn't a false alarm?  A few more minutes passed as my thoughts swirled. I decided to wait it out until 7:30 when I was planning to leave the house for a meeting anyway.  I'd just casually drive by on the way...even though it wasn't on the way at all. 

 

But then, finally ... a text!

 

I was actually 79.  Drank a juice and kept marching.

 

We're finding lots of reasons to love the 'share' technology.  This evening of scary misinformation wasn't one of them.