Charlie told me about a dream he had.

He was told to lie down on a hospital bed.

He was in surgery, having his heart removed.  

“I don’t know,” he said, tucking his chin to his chest.

“I think it was a diabetes thing,” he said with a nervous laugh, as if he had just uttered something terrible or confessed to a horrible crime.

“Really?” I said.

“Was it surgery for a cure maybe or was it because there was a problem?” I asked.

“Problem,” he said. 

We have no doubt noticed that some of the rigors of diabetes have gotten easier as Charlie has gotten older. I have blogged about how he has gradually begun to assume more ownership of the daily management of this disease. Unfortunately though, I think with age, we have to also face that he will start to have questions.

We’ve protected him from the truth about diabetes and its complications for all these years like it was the sorcerer’s stone. If you were to dig through his psyche - beyond thoughts of him hoisting the Stanley Cup and beyond thoughts of knock-knock jokes and farting on his sister, would there be thoughts about diabetes? Thoughts about complications? On the surface, it seems as if Charlie has little interest in the details of diabetes, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he keeps those thoughts to himself.

He’s getting older. He wakes up at 6:30 am every morning and gets on the Internet, playing competitive online math games (the nerd).  What’s to stop him from Googling “diabetes.” Why did they have to teach him how to read?

I asked him what happened next with the surgery.

“Well,” he said. “They had to reschedule it for twelve weeks later. Then I woke up.”

“Ah,” I see.

Freakin’ healthcare!