Diabetic Recipes
His knees are bent.
Like a frog.
His nostril whistles.
He sleeps peacefully.
He's 56.
"Charlie," I whisper into the dead of night, giving him a slight nudge.
The ceiling fan hums.
"Charlie, you're low. Have some juice."
"Charlie!"
So many nights I've whispered these words into his sleeping ears. So many nights for four-and-a-half years. So many nights Susanne has. So many nights other moms and dads around the world whisper the very same words to their children in the darkness. We need a cure.
He keeps his eyes closed.
He just nods and opens his mouth when he feels the straw poking at his lips.
He jumps when the cold juice dribbles down his chin and streaks across his neck as if it is alcohol on an open wound.
When I pull the juice box away, his lips keep reaching like he's kissing a girl for the first time.
I wait fifteen minutes.
49.
I wait fifteen more minutes.
But I'm asleep at the wheel and I'm veering off the highway.
I'm mugged. Down for the count. I'm bottle-over-the-head out of it.
It's five hours later and the sun is rising.
I never checked him again.
He's 56.
Low all night.
God, what have I done? What could have happened?
*Your* body went into "auto-pilot". You need a certain amount of sleep to be able to function. Apparently you were "running on empty" and zoned. Fortunately, everything turned out OK.
Even though you and Suzanne and Charlie may not know the difference, you and Suzanne are *parents*, not *gods*...
There is no worse feeling than waking up and realizing you slept through a check. It takes my breath away. This disease blows.
Look on the bright side, at least you know his overnight basals are good since he held at the same number all night. But, it's scary to think of the what ifs.
That is one of my worst fears. I've slept through when I meant to check before but never when he was low. I haven't done that YET. I'm sure my day will come.
At least he did OK. Still, we parents have enough guilt around this disease it sucks to have one more thing to add to it.
Oh, Carey! Don't beat yourself up! You and Susanne are such awesome parents to little Charlie...and you are only human. He will be okay!!
My 8 year old son is severely handicapped and has to use a feeding pump to put Pediasure into his belly, he cannot even swallow by himself. I woke up this morning and realized that neither myself or my husband had turned his pump on last night. He got no milk all night. All because I fell asleep first because of a low and feeling sick and my husband was so worried about me, he forgot about the pump. We feel like slime....but we are only human!! Dang this disease sometimes! It truly does consume a whole family, no matter who has it!
You rock! You are such an inspiration to us and we all love little Charlie!!
Mousie, and her starved child..... :-(