Friday's endo appointment was a solo affair. Susanne stayed home with my little one who had suddenly come down with a fever. I don't like going solo. I like having Susanne there with me for these visits. We're a good team. We help finish each other's sentences. Also, you never know if an endo or a CDE is going to get a little nutty with the accusatory tones, etc. so, it's nice to know someone's got your back.

And if a knife fight broke out, I'd want Susanne there so that I could hide behind her.

The ride into Philadelphia went as usual. I got really lost, got stuck in awful traffic and made it to our appointment about an hour late. It doesn't take much for me to get lost in Philadelphia. I still don't know the city very well. This time, a detour did me in. I gave Charlie my camera and he documented the car ride.

And of course you know what happens when you're late and you're lost and you're stressing out.

"Dad, I think I'm low."

I immediately pulled over - illegally parking next to a fire hydrant on a busy city street and turned around to test Charlie. If a cop was to approach, I was prepared to show him Charlie's bloody finger.

When we arrived, I asked the woman at the main desk if she's still singing. I wanted to smooth things over because we were so incredibly late. Also because I like it when she calls me baby.

[Smiling and surprised that I remembered] "Oh, I'll never stop singin'! Had a gig last night. Sign this sheet for me, baby."

They still took us, but Charlie and I had to wait over an hour in the exam room. We waited patiently for a while, but eventually full-scale purple rubber glove warfare broke out.

Susanne called a couple times asking if I got the number yet.

"No," I whispered, "but I think they just dropped off Charlie's file in the slot outside the door. I'm going in."

I know it's my own kid's file, but every time I do this, I feel like a criminal. Like I'm stealing classified government documents. When the coast was clear, I snagged the bulky folder, brought it into the room and closed the door behind me. I tore through it quickly, locating Charlie's A1c and then put it back in the slot swiftly.

7.9. Considering we had some very rough weeks in the past three months, I'll take it.

Fortunately for Charlie, his allowance will remain intact.

I just need to work on acting surprised when the CDE tells me Charlie's A1c.

"So, Charlie's A1c is 7.9."

"I know. I mean …"

"Sorry?"

"I know …

we need to get that A1c down to the low 7s."