A couple days earlier we had talked about the continuous glucose monitor. His eyes lit up when I explained it to him. For an obsessively compulsive control freak like Charlie, I was describing the Holy Grail.

Charlie would control time and space if the powers of nature would allow it. And with his telemarketer-like persistence, he just may some day. As it is now, he’s a walking, talking Timex. With a glance downward to his pump, he is quick to remind me when I’m three minutes late for just about everything.

To know what his blood sugar is all the time? To use the pump screen as leverage when making a case for a snack? Charlie saw endless possibilities.

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We can only hope that Charlie’s body was fighting off whatever it was that hit Maeve hard last night. Maybe that’s why his blood sugars were insanely high for a couple days.

It was a good run for Maeve (seven years, in fact), but last night’s virus struck with a vengeance. She vomited about every 20 to 30 minutes from 8 pm to about 3:30 am. Being such a long time since she had thrown up, she was pretty hysterical at first.

But as the long night went on, she became an old pro. Her face as stark and emotionless as a runway model, she raised her head out from the bucket, dabbed a string of saliva from her lip and calmly said ...

"18," referring to the number of times she had thrown up.

It was a long, horrible night. We went to sleep at about 3:45 am and it finally appeared to be over.

Until ... (READ MORE)

His moist, hot breath fills my ear with the scent of wild cherry bubble gum.

"She’s pretty," he whispers.

He is referring to the hostess who had just seated us.

I’m surprised Charlie tells me this. Talk of pretty girls is generally reserved for mom. Aware of the rare moment, I decide to press further.

"How about the waitress? Think she’s pretty?"

"Mmm hmm," he says, looking around to make sure the coast is clear. "But the other is prettier."

Of course Charlie’s diabetes is nothing to be ashamed of, but I don’t enjoy announcing it unnecessarily to the world. I feel like I’m selling him out when I do so.

Like on this night at the restaurant.

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We did everything we could. He just wouldn’t ever come down.

This was a night from hell.

Shot #1.

519 at bedtime. He was in no mood for a shot. He became irrational - fighting us.

"Do you want to be 500 all night?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to spend the night in the hospital?"

"Yes."

He knocked his head on the wall repeatedly as I searched for a spot to stick him.

"Charlie!"

Shot #2

Midnight. Blood sugar soared back up after coming down just a bit.

"Not good," I called to Susanne.

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Kris Freeman may have won the 30K cross-country race at the U.S. National Championships in Anchorage, Alaska last month – had he not been forced to stop and test his blood sugar late in the race. Freeman came in second.

The first and last time an American won an Olympic medal in cross-country skiing was 34 years ago. Freeman hopes to end that drought in the winter Olympics, despite having type 1 diabetes.

As a hockey household, we’ve been anxiously awaiting the winter Olympics to cheer on team USA. I’ll admit, cross-country skiing was never something I had given much thought about and it was not on my radar when I thought of the events I’d like to check out. That said, we’re now officially on the Kris Freeman bandwagon and our household will be cheering loudly for him when he races in Vancouver.

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To the boy running away:

I hope your mom packed you a liverwurst sandwich.

I hope you get eaten by a Piranha Plant when you next play Super Mario Bros.

I hope the class finds out about Mr. Hoppy, the pee-stained stuffed rabbit doll you’ve been sleeping with since you were 2. I’m sure the girl you like would be very interested in knowing all about Mr. Hoppy. What’s her name again? Emma?

I hope a televised presidential address cuts right into a crucial moment in your favorite TV show.

I hope you wake up with incurable bedhead.

I hope you have an unstoppable case of the giggles during Sunday mass.

I hope you step in gum.

I hope it’s fresh gum that had just been spat out. (READ MORE)