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Practice makes near perfect at bedtime

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October 27, 2016
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The Night Shift

Charlie looked amazed as he sat down in front of his hot blueberry waffles and cherry yogurt and dipped his bloody fingertip onto the test strip.

“How do I always wake up in the morning with good blood sugar?” he asked.

He really meant it. He had no idea how this was possible.

I felt like I was in one of those commercials where a wife asks her husband if he did anything interesting during the day. “Nope, just an ordinary day,” he says while dicing carrots or celery or maybe scallions for dinner.

Meanwhile we see a montage of the guy skydiving, rescuing a swimmer from shark-infested waters, closing a huge business deal, hunting endangered rhinos, selling drugs in a dark alley … that sort of thing.

I guess it’s nice that Charlie sleeps through it all and that he thinks that his blood sugar just magically lands at 115 to 120 each morning. Still, part of me would like him to go behind the scenes and see what really goes on during the night shift.

He’d hear the Dexcom freaking out like a pissed-off robot for hours when teetering on preset alarm thresholds. “Vooooooooot!!!! Voooooooooooot!!!! Voooooooooooot!!!” He’d see us as the micromanagers we are – turning a 160 into a 112. He’d also hear me curse repeatedly after each heart-stopping “vooooooot!!!”

Like little diabetes fairies, he’d see us floating up the stairs and down the stairs; up the stairs and down the stairs; up the stairs and down the stairs with juice boxes in hand. He’d probably also wonder why his not-very-smart parents don’t just keep a large stash of juice boxes upstairs so that they don’t have to do that.

He’d see us flicking syringes in the dead of night like a couple of junkies.

Or maybe he would see us appear like vampires – snoring one moment and then holding his finger and squeezing out blood the next. Rubbing his head and whispering “drink” as if under a spell.

Appearing and disappearing like a vapor.

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