Just because I haven’t blogged in a while doesn’t mean that everything is peachy. Charlie had ketones this morning and almost missed school. Blood sugars remain unpredictable. Life as a parent of an 8-year-old with diabetes remains as nutty as ever.

After three days in Florida attending my grandmother’s funeral, it was right back to the routine when I got home and walked up the stairs at 12:30 am. I woke up Susanne and greeted her and then asked if Charlie needed to be checked.

Susanne thinks that maybe I’ve been a little off lately because I will soon be turning a certain age. I never thought it bothered me, but maybe it does. I was around a lot of old people last week. It’s pretty depressing. One man who came to the house to offer his condolences, spoke of the loneliness.

"The four walls don’t talk to you," he said.

"They don’t tell jokes."

He said that it’s hard to go out to eat when you look to the left of you and look to the right and there’s no one there.

Holy heavy! I had to get out of there.

In the kitchen I found refuge in the arms of a tall elderly lady who was built like a Transformer. She had to be a wrestler or a roller derby girl in her prime. She had a short salt and pepper nest on her head and spoke with a lisp.

"Well, well, well … Who ishh thish???" she asked, batting her eyes at me and crushing my ribcage with her Amazonian strength.

She chuckled as I pretended to remove my wedding ring and slip it into my pocket.

Back in the den I found a glimmer of optimism in growing old when talking to Bernie, a man who knew my grandmother and grandfather when they were mere teenagers. Incredible.

"I can’t complain," he said. "I’ve had a good life."

"I even get an erection once in a while."

Thanks, Bernie.