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"Dad, am I going to get diabetes?"
This was the part I was dreading. I knew this question was going to come up but how do I respond? Do I tell her about my fears. How I do not know how I could live with myself if you had this terrible disease? Do I mention the fear she may have to live with for the rest of her life? Should I mention how she may not but her future kids could get it? How should I respond? (READ MORE)

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Over the weekend, I had a low blood sugar in the middle of the night that left me feeling like I had been beaten soundly and left in a ditch. (Covered in petrol, a la Eddie Izzard.)
It was a strange experience, though, because the "low hangover" feeling was neatly accompanied by a feeling of guilt. This low wasn't one that came out of no where and smacked up upside the head. This low was the result of a miscalculation while I was at dinner. (READ MORE)

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Over the weekend, I had a low blood sugar in the middle of the night that left me feeling like I had been beaten soundly and left in a ditch. (Covered in petrol, a la Eddie Izzard.)
It was a strange experience, though, because the "low hangover" feeling was neatly accompanied by a feeling of guilt. This low wasn't one that came out of no where and smacked up upside the head. This low was the result of a miscalculation while I was at dinner. (READ MORE)

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Over the weekend, I had a low blood sugar in the middle of the night that left me feeling like I had been beaten soundly and left in a ditch. (Covered in petrol, a la Eddie Izzard.)
It was a strange experience, though, because the "low hangover" feeling was neatly accompanied by a feeling of guilt. This low wasn't one that came out of no where and smacked up upside the head. This low was the result of a miscalculation while I was at dinner. (READ MORE)

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Charlie's classmates grilled me and they grilled me good. After reading the book about diabetes, I was besieged with questions. I was amazed. Adults don't ask such good questions.

A lot of the questions were about the pump:

What happens if you lose the pump? What are all those buttons for? What do you do with the pump when you go to the beach? How long can he stay off the pump?

Charlie stood up beside me and demonstrated the pump like a flight attendant.

Batteries for the pump became the hottest topic of the day:

How do you know if the batteries are low? What do you do if he needs new batteries? How do you change the batteries? Where do you get batteries?

"Dudes, they're just triple As. You can get those just about anywhere."

(READ MORE)

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"Yeah, I'll do it," Maeve said, quickly unzipping the black diabetes bag and removing the contents onto her lap.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
She was a little too eager to get her hands on a sharp foreign object and take blood from her little brother. Maeve cracked open an alcohol wipe and rubbed Charlie's fingertip then loaded the meter with a test strip, deftly juggling the instruments. She had never done it before, but she's witnessed it , (one sec whilst I do a little math) , about 17,500 times. It's an unusual thing for an 8-year-old to do. Not your normal car trip activity such as I Spy or the license plate game.
"Just put the striped part into the ..."
"Uh huh. I know." (READ MORE)

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The good news is that none of the kids caught diabetes at Charlie's birthday party. Phew! That was a close one. I would hate to receive that phone call from an angry mom or dad.
We had Charlie's birthday party at a little magic shop in an old, historic building. It was a Harry Potter theme. Susanne made great cloaks and wizard hats for the kids to wear and Hogwarts house badges with the symbols of the Gryffindor lion, Slytherin snake, etc.
The kids were good sports about wearing the costumes, though there was something ominous about the image as they waited for the magician's show to begin. From the back, the twenty kids sitting in lined chairs in the small "party room" with their hats pointing skyward and their long cloaks just barely touching the floor looked disturbingly reminiscent of a Ku Klux Klan meeting. Nice. (READ MORE)

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We're pretty staunch when it comes to supporting all things D. I don't like to discriminate, but if forced to choose, I'll always choose the diabetic brand. We only use diabetic dish detergent (fruity breath scent); we landscape with only diabetes-friendly shrubs and flowers and in the summers we go fishing in only diabetic waters.
That said, when Christmas comes around, we only sing diabetes Christmas songs in our household. Classics such as Have Yourself a Merry Little Bolus, The Little Pumper Boy and I Saw Mommy Ripping the Insurance Rep a New One fill our home with yuletide cheer.
And who can forget this classic adaptation of Let it Snow.
Bet He's Low!
Oh, my son's blood sugars are frightful Of course Ms. Berry's are delightful And since his eyes look like a Picasso I bet he's low, bet he's low, bet he's low (READ MORE)

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Charlie has gotten into a bad habit when he pees. He drops his shorts to his ankles, places the pump in his shirt, wraps it upward like a baby sling and then skillfully holds it all in place with his chin. We would prefer for him to just clip the pump onto the neckline of his shirt.
He frees his hands not so that he may use them to guide his rocket-like stream of urine into the toilet bowl. Oh, no. His hands have a greater purpose. His hands are for placing on his hips. So that he can stand back like a proud Roman general and watch his unshackled penis terrorize the innocent porcelain.
Urinatius Everywhereus.
With the slightest distraction, his chin lifts up and the shirt unravels, sending the pump into the pool of pee. He's done this twice to my knowledge. I caught him once.
I peeked in the bathroom as I walked by and saw Charlie with his line out in the water as if he was fishing - the pump floating like a bobber.
"Charlie!" I yelled. (READ MORE)

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Olivia was supposed to babysit yesterday afternoon, but because we got 87 inches of snow, it was canceled. She was disappointed about not getting paid but I think a little relieved about it, too.

She was going to be babysitting another kid with diabetes (and his little sister). I'm friends with this woman, Deb, who lives in the next town - we met thru the Children With Diabetes email list. Deb thought that Olivia would make a great babysitter, since she knows all about diabetes. I think Olivia was having qualms.
(READ MORE)

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