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Practice makes near perfect at bedtime

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October 25, 2016
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Any Given Sunday

Wake up and go for a jog. Daughter wants to come. I insist that she partake in silly warm-up stretches before we head out. I pray that neighbors are looking outside their window when we do squats with butts pointing toward them. Daughter has never run before. It’s a brief run. Roughly 30 feet.

Thirty minutes until I have to take Ben to our soccer game. Charlie begs me to play a quick game of roller hockey across street at playground. I tell him I don’t have time. I tell him Ben has a soccer game. He won’t take no for an answer. “Fine. First to five.” He accidentally slashes my finger hard with stick blade. I drop stick in pain. “Ow!!!!” He wins, 5-4. All is well on the Dexcom. Not so well with the finger.

Enter house. Locate shin guards. “Ben we have to go to soccer!” Coach team of 7 and 8 year olds. Wonder if short game of roller hockey will be a blood sugar issue. Opposing coaches rub me wrong way with excessive screaming and jerkishness. I remember them from last season. Remember that they are the reason why I volunteered to be a coach; didn’t want Ben to be on their team. Suddenly I really want to win. Competitiveness growing. Great distraction. Not thinking once about diabetes for one full hour. Losing 4-2 but come back late in game to make it 4-4. Satisfied with the tie. Pep talk and hands in: “1-2-3 AVENGERS!”

Back home. All well with Dexcom. Quick lunch. Take Ben, Charlie and Charlie’s friend fishing. Back and forth to each kid; untangling and baiting and removing fish from hooks. Frequent glances at Dexcom. All is well. “Ow! What the hell?!?” Ankles feel like they’re on fire. “Mr. Potash: I have cankles.” Ankles swelling and itching. 38-weeks pregnant ankles. Standing in a patch of stinging nettle plants apparently. Thankfully only 12 hours of itch. Kids see small mountain. Kids want to climb small mountain. Small mountain not so small. Avoid massive pile of horse crap on trail toward base of mountain. People on horseback trot by. Climb mountain. Out of breath. So steep! Call home. “Can (breath) you (breath) please (breath) put (breath) the pork rub (breath) on the ribs (breath) and (breath) stick (breath) in (breath) oven (breath) at 300 degrees?”

Susanne: What are you doing?

Me: Climbing (breath) mountain. Ankles (breath) on fire. Weird (breath) plant (breath) attack (breath) our ankles. Home (breath) soon.

Down the mountain much easier. Worry about effect of mountain climbing on blood sugar. Ice cream man. Charlie’s friend orders blueberry water ice and Charlie wants the same. I hold up the line asking to see carb counts. 25 grams. I can live with that. Troubled mind not so troubled. Dexcom says 138. Of course agree to the water ice before realizing it was 25 grams per serving. Actually 50 grams. Probably highest amount of ice cream carbs I’ve ever allowed. Mind slightly troubled. Hoping the mountain climbing balances things out. It does.

Home. Take a short break. Boys run over to neighbor’s house and bounce on trampoline. Worry about effect of trampoline on blood sugar. Worry about those 50 carbs. Sit on deck and watch sugars on Dexcom until he ventures out of range.

Grab shovel and transplant creeping myrtle to fill in bare spots in front yard. Water well. Start grill. Throw ribs on grill. Eat ribs. Exhale.


Dexcom buzz, buzz, buzzes to alert me that Charlie is over 170. Actual blood sugar is 195. I correct with 0.4 units of insulin.

Back to sleep. Dream of giant tidal wave as tall as a skyscraper above me as I float in the water. Wondering how I can possibly survive it.

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