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While we were in the process of moving from the Midwest to the desert, my mom kept saying, "The sun is different here."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," I thought. How could it really be that different from Missouri to Phoenix? From Canada to the equator I understand, but straight west and slightly south?

She wasn't kidding. Even when it's cool -- or cold (yes, it does happen!) -- outside, the inside of my car bakes. The brightness is insane even when it's overcast. My skin has gotten pink as if it were slightly sunburned while I had clothes over that portion of my skin.

For a long time I've had trouble seeing in the dark. Trying to see street signs at night is difficult, movies that are visually dark are a challenge for me to watch, even with my prescription glasses on I prefer to be close to things I'm reading or watching.

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Well, it's about 10 pm and we are in the danger zone. Charlie had a couple of slices of pizza with thick crust at about 6 pm. So I'm right here waiting for pizza to do its despicable business. No matter what we do, it's like we are against all odds. It happens time after time.

All I need is a miracle right about now. I'm afraid we'll be up all night long. I just want to get through the night without jabbing needles in his arm and without ketones and without cursing under my breath. It's like one thing leads to another. I can't go for that. Not tonight.

At 99, his blood sugar is borderline and eerily fine at the moment, but how will I know it won't still take a terrible turn for the worse? Here I go again. I feel like I'm constantly playing this game. Diabetes, you spin me round. Round and round.

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