Like a fever, it just breaks. It finally did for us, today. Thank God. Five days of runaway high blood sugars. Now that the dust has settled, it appears as if we've just emerged from a growth spurt. Gives "growing pains" a whole new meaning.

If daily life with diabetes is a battle, then this occasional week of hell is a bloody battle along the lines of Braveheart. It's a drunk and belligerent Mel Gibson in blue-painted face slinging swords and anti-Semitic remarks at us for a full week.

The fact that we have weeks like this from time to time does not make it any easier. It's not even that Charlie's blood sugars were super high. It's that they stayed in the 230 to 310 range for so long. Full days where we couldn't get his blood sugar below 200 no matter how many basal adjustments and site changes. Happy New Year, diabetes!

So what do you do when your efforts seem futile; when diabetes seems to have an impenetrable armor?

You've grown quite fond of these little humans you've created despite the disgusting noises that come from their butts and the peculiar faces they make with their massive disproportionate newly sprouted adult teeth.

You can't just sit around and let it happen. It's torture. This is your kid!

So what do you do? The only thing you can do. You ride the damn thing out. Even though he really wants it, you tell him that eating the leftover lasagna would be a really bad idea. You give him rolled up slices of turkey and cheese. You pour a tablespoon of chopped almonds into his palm and watch his giddy face has he chomps on ‘em with his giant chipmunk chompers and mumbles "thank you" gratefully.

You lie in bed and tell your spouse for the 837,000th time that you hate diabetes.