Running on Insulin

Chapter 9

After we finished our tea, Jenna cleared up and the wash was done. She switched everything over and put the sheets in to wash.

"Come sit with us and watch TV. We can figure out what to do for dinner a little later," Jenna said.

I followed her to the living room. Tyler was laying across the couch, but sat up when we approached. Jenna sat beside him and snuggled into him. I sat down on the floor.

"Samantha," Tyler said. "Sit on the couch. The floor's uncomfortable."

"I'm okay," I said. My dad didn't let me sit on the couch.

"We have hardwood floors and you're sitting right on it. Come on. Up you get," Jenna said, reaching her hand out to me. "You probably don't remember, but you've already been on this couch."

"When?" I asked, looking at the two of them.

"The other night. When you passed out in our back yard," Tyler said.

"Oh," I said.

"Now, get your butt up here. It's a couch. Not an alligator. It won't bite," Tyler smiled.

I didn't want to get in trouble, so I got on the couch, but I sat forward. Just in case.

———————
Jenna's POV

I couldn't believe how hard it was for Samantha to do the simplest things, like sit on a couch. I was angry at the way her father had clearly been treating her. She was afraid to sit on the couch. She was afraid to accept that she was safe here. She was just so scared about everything.

"Samantha, you can sit back. Relax. It's okay," I said. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and have her snuggle with us, but I figured that might be a bit too much for her just now.

She sat back on the couch, but was still sitting straight up. She couldn't relax. I felt so horrible for her. I really hoped she'd be with us long enough to start healing.

We watched TV for a while. Samantha asked if she could get a glass of water.

"Of course. You don't have to ask. Glasses are just above the dishwasher. To the left of the sink," I said.

She got up and went to the kitchen. I heard her fill a glass and what seemed like seconds later, fill it again.

She came back and sat down.

Maybe five minutes later, she asked where the washroom was. I told her and on the way back, she stopped for water again.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" I asked.

She squinted at me a bit and rubbed her temples.

"Yeah. Just thirsty I guess. And a bit of a headache," she said, slumping back onto the couch.

I pulled out my phone and looked up what high blood sugar would look like.

"Samantha, have you checked your blood sugar recently?" I asked.

"No. It's okay. I just have a headache," she insisted.

Suddenly she jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I got up and followed. She was throwing up. And she didn't have much to throw up. Lunch and been a few hours ago and we'd just had tea.

She sat, slumped, against the wall in the bathroom.

"Samantha? Sweetie? Are you okay? What's the matter?"

"Who are you?" She asked, squinting at me.

"Ty?!" I called out. "Can you being me Samantha's test kit? I think it's in the kitchen!"

"What? Why?" He called back.

"TY! NOW!" I heard him get up and move quickly.

Samantha was slumped against me. Her breath smelled sweet, and a bit like vomit, too.

"Come on, Samantha. Stay with me, okay? Listen to my voice. Because I'm going to need your help, okay?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll do better, Dad."

Tyler slid into the doorway.

"Do you know how to do this?" He asked.

"I watched at lunch. I'm just not sure what is too high."

I cleaned Samantha's finger with an alcohol wipe, pulled a test strip out of the little bottle and with shaking hands, managed to get it into the little slot on the machine.

Once that was set up, I pressed the finger poker thing to Samantha's finger and pressed the button. Nothing. I looked at the device and realized I needed to prime it, so to speak. I pulled the doohickey back and tried again. I heard a snap. I pulled it away and saw a small drop of blood on her finger. I squeezed it just a bit and put her finger on the test strip. I wrapped the alcohol wipe around her finger while I watched the device count down.

"Its 410," I said.

"That can't be good," Tyler said. "Do we need an ambulance?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Samantha," I said, patting her cheek. "Samantha, come on. Open your eyes honey. I need you to help me here."

She opened her eyes a bit.

"I'm tired," she said.

""I know. But I need you to help me out. Your blood sugar is 410. How much insulin do you take if it's that high?"

"Rules of 15," she said.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Jen, I'm calling 911. We don't know what we're doing. They can help us."

I sighed. Two visits from the EMS in two days? We were starting out as great foster parents.

I stayed on the floor of the bathroom with Samantha, trying to keep her conscious while Tyler waited for the ambulance.

"You again?" The paramedics said as they came into the bathroom. He seemed jovial though.

"What's going on?" Craig asked.

"She was drinking a lot of water and peeing, then came running in here to throw up. I just tested her blood sugar and got 410," I said.

"410!?" Craig said. "Not that I don't believe you but I'm going to test it, too."

He used their test kit and got a similar result.

"Okay, lay her down gently. I'm going to start an IV. Does she have any insulin? Have you given her any?"

"No," I said, gently lying Samantha down on the floor, pulling the hand towels down and putting them under her head. I moved out of the way of the paramedics, but stayed near Samantha's head. She was semi conscious and I didn't want her to get scared.

"I mean she has insulin here. We haven't given her any though."

Craig and his partner worked quickly starting an IV and assessing Samantha.

"We have to take her in. She'll need to be monitored overnight to make sure her sugar comes down and she doesn't lapse into a coma," Craig said.

"Is that possible?" I asked.

"She's practically comatose now," he said. We really need to move,"

In reverse roles, I went in the ambulance with Samantha and Tyler drove behind us to the hospital.