Lazy River, Tired Kids, and a Lost Shoe: Tubing with Type 1

Last Saturday, it was hot (I know, mid-July—shocker). It had been a long week, and I hadn’t really planned much (okay, anything) for the weekend. What to do?

We could go to my mom’s—she lives at the beach, and we always have a great time—but the thought of packing, organizing, and driving both ways was more than my overheated, overtired brain could take. I needed something lower-lift. Like, ideally, requiring no lifting at all.

A waterpark? Tempting. But waterparks are one of life’s great ironies: so much water, so little time actually spent in it. Add to that the long lines, overpriced snacks, and the joy of applying sunscreen to three children who believe sunscreen is a torture device? I’ll take a hard pass. The only part I really enjoy is the lazy river. Though let’s be honest, it’s rarely lazy—more like bumper cars with tubes. Everyone ends up there because they’ve given up waiting for the waterslides. It’s a swirling mix of toddlers, tired parents, and tubeless teens launching themselves at full speed. No thanks.

But a real lazy river? Now that I could work with.

There are a few rivers nearby that offer mellow tubing—not whitewater thrills, but peaceful floats with a hint of current and a low chance of injury. I found a place just 30 minutes from home and thought, “Why not invite the neighbors?” They’ve got kids too, and they’ve also looked like they needed a nap since May. By the time the dust settled, we had three parents and six kids ready to float their way into some summer memories.

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Prepping for Diabetes on the River

Of course, tubing with a kid who wears an insulin pump requires more than just grabbing towels and snacks.

The night before we went tubing was site change night for Owen. Where to place it so it wouldn’t rub while tubing? I remembered going tubing years ago, right after starting pump therapy, and the site on my lower back getting scrubbed off by the tube.

So I considered Owen’s stomach. But then I remembered a time when my parents took my brother and me tubing while we were kids. My brother and I were rarely on our backs. Most of the time, we were hanging over the front, flopping like a wet seal trying to steer. So, back to the lower back it went, with a little extra adhesive.

Then came the big debate. Owen wears the Tandem Mio: wear the pump or go disconnected? I usually prefer keeping it on during periods of exercise for better post-activity control, but the idea of his site getting ripped out mid-float and the Mio sinking to the bottom of a vaguely brownish river? Yeah… no. Let’s go with disconnected.

I, on the other hand, had placed my Omnipod 5 on my arm the night before. I added a little adhesive, hoping to keep my kids away from that part of my body when the aquatic melee began.

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Tubing Day

We arrived at the spot, and before leaving the van, had a light lunch (both Owen and I had even lighter boluses). He was at 194 mg/dL, and I was at 164mg/dL, which felt like we were both at the sweet spot for tubing without plummeting into low territory. We were perfect with the cushion we had. I activated exercise mode for myself, had Owen disconnect, loaded his pump into a waterproof bag, and climbed aboard a school bus that looked like it had definitely seen more field trips than tune-ups.

Shoes on. Cooler tube in hand. (Yes, check the picture, it’s exactly what it sounds like—a floating beverage butler.) It carried sandwiches, juice boxes, and enough low snacks to make a dietitian twitch. In the waterproof bag tied to the handle of the cooler, I had Owen’s pump, a meter, my insulin pen, and both of our phones.

The tubing itself? Glorious chaos. Little stretches of gentle rapids mixed with calm glides where you had to paddle—or, in my case, awkwardly wiggle—just to keep moving. My oldest steered clear of the 10-year-old mayhem, while my daughter somehow amplified it. We splashed, laughed, swapped tubes, and occasionally pretended we knew where we were going. The kids stopped multiple times along the river, cannonballing into the deeper areas.

I had originally planned to keep Owen within 20 feet so I could monitor his Dexcom. That plan, like most parenting plans, didn’t last five minutes. But honestly, we’ve gotten pretty good at managing things when we cut the bolus and time the activity. Twenty feet turned into 20 minutes between checks, which was much better.

Halfway through, we pulled over to a little patch of muddy shoreline for lunch. Nothing fancy—just semi-soggy Nutella sandwiches, which taste infinitely better when eaten from a tube while yelling at someone to stop throwing moss. Owen was at 173 mg/dL, and still had some insulin onboard, so I let it ride. I, on the other hand, was not tearing it up in the water as my son was; I had gone up to 244 mg/dl. I went ahead and took some insulin for the chocolate snack masquerading as a sandwich.

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One Lost Shoe and Some Gained Memories

The only casualty of the trip? One of Owen’s good shoes. Apparently, “wear old shoes” was heard as “ignore Dad and wear the newest ones I have.” It got sucked into the muck like a sacrifice to the river gods.

But hey, we’ve only got a few weeks of summer left, and the kid’s barefoot from June through August anyway.

Still, solid call on not wearing the pump.

Back on dry land, Owen got reconnected, and everyone dried off—some more successfully than others. We loaded up the car, cranked the AC, and basked in that uniquely satisfying mix of sunburn, river grime, and fatigue that only comes from a good, screen-free day.

I gave Owen a small bolus to make up for the missed basal. It didn’t quite hold—he crept up to around 275 mg/dl and required another correction before coming back down in time for dinner. My mid-tubing bolus seemed to do the trick; I was back in range by the time I called the troops to their meal.

All in all? A pretty fantastic day—diabetes included.

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For Future Tubers

Thinking of tubing before summer’s over? Highly recommend. It’s fun, relaxing, and will probably leave your kids just tired enough that they forget to ask for screen time when you get home.

Here are a few diabetes tips that worked for us:

• Site placement matters – Consider how the tube will press against the body. Lower back worked well for us. Extra adhesive is your friend—seriously.
• Depending on what type of pump you have, your insulin plan will vary. If you’re going to be off your pump, you’ll need to reconnect every few hours to deliver insulin.
• Have a backup plan – I brought an insulin pen and meter. Even though having an extra site is a good thought in theory, it will never stay stuck to that soggy skin. (Leave it in the car instead.)
• Plan your food strategy – Either eat lunch and cut the bolus or fuel up with a solid snack beforehand.
• Bring low treatments (and backups for your backups) – No convenience stores to grab snacks out there, unless you count the occasional floating Goldfish cracker.

And above all – have fun!