After a bit of small talk, I asked our nurse practitioner if there has been any chatter around the office about the artificial pancreas.

"No," she said, nodding her head.

"Nothing about the big news from the FDA?" I asked.

She nodded her head again. "Nope."

I'm not sure what exactly I was expecting. Did I think she would enthusiastically say, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"  and then produce a blank sign-up sheet and a sparkly ballpoint pen?

"As a matter of fact, yes, we've all been extremely excited about it and guess what, Charlie? You are first on the list for an artificial pancreas!"

Although I said in a prior post that it would be difficult to ask about complications with Charlie in the same room, I managed to ask cryptically. She went over his last lab results with me, assuring me that all levels were as they should be.  I asked for a printout but I have no clue what any of it means.

We briefly discussed the increase in scary lows Charlie had been having and talked strategy for days when he plays ice hockey.  And that was that. Quick visit.

We left the hospital and walked across the street for egg, bacon and cheese sandwiches on croissants.

There might be one hundred different things I'd rather be doing with Charlie than sitting in an exam room. Somehow though, this tradition of driving into Philadelphia every three months for his checkup and then grabbing a couple egg sandwiches for lunch has become, well ... kind of nice.

Charlie told me of his idea to someday replace rubber car tires with magnets implanted under the roads.  We discussed our mutual fear of public speaking. He commented several times about how delicious his sandwich was and how he liked sitting by the window and looking out at the adjoining hospital buildings. He wondered if the tall building above us would collapse on us. I said probably.

We clanked our Snapple ice teas together - mine regular, his diet - celebrating an improved A1c of 7.6.

"Cheers!"