Monday morning, 10:15 am: Pick up phone. Dial numbers. Make idle chit-chat with wife before getting to real reason for phone call - what's Charlie's blood sugar?
Tuesday morning, 10:15 am: Pick up phone. Dial numbers. Make idle chit-chat with wife before getting to real reason for phone call - what's Charlie's blood sugar?
Wednesday morning, 10:15 am: Pick up phone. Dial numbers. Make idle chit-chat with wife before getting to real reason for phone call - what's Charlie's blood sugar?
Though tempted to boost my word count even further, I'll stop at Wednesday, knowing that you get the point.
Respond to wife with the following assortment of interchangeable exclamatory interjections:
"Damn!"
"Crap!"
"Great!" (not the good kind, the sarcastic kind)
"Super!" (again, sarcastic)
"Thank God!"
It has gotten just a bit monotonous.
And not just on my end.
10:15 am
Me: Hey
Susanne: Hey
Me: What's up?
Susanne: Not much. Emptying the dishwasher.
Me: Yeah?
Susanne: Yeah
{silent pause}
Me: So ,
{silent pause}
Susanne: So ,
Susanne: So , you want to know Charlie's blood sugar?
Me: Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you're not too busy.
Susanne understands my curiosity, but I know she also grows tired of the routine phone call, my beating around the bush.
Occasionally I'll go the whole work day without talking to Susanne about Charlie's numbers. No news is often mediocre news. Still, I come home very curious.
On those days, I walk in the door and review the log sheet and meter like a teacher grading an exam. I page back on the meter to get the story. On bad days, I shake my head in disapproval.
"Uh, Susanne, can I see you for a moment over by the refrigerator? I'm wondering how you came up with 309, 241, 358 and 220? The correct results should have been 98, 112, 104 and 109."


Diabetic Recipes










ah haha cute!
Those are Jeff's and my conversations, verbatim. Every. Single. Day.
Sometimes I just pick up the phone and blurt out the number before greeting him when he calls.
And when he comes home, he immediately beelines for the log the nurse sends home with Brendon and scrutinizes and murmurs and scratches his head and swears a little bit.
It drives me crazy.
That fact that you're so engaged is awesome, Carey... Isn't that the way parents are supposed to be?
This was totally clever. :)
I've texted a number to Michael before. Just a number. He knew what it meant.