I’m sitting here in the waiting room while Charlie is in with the therapist talking about his obsessive compulsive behavior. I’m wondering if it’s a requirement for waiting rooms in doctors offices to have bad art on the walls and bad music playing.

We’ve seen some improvement with Charlie. Not sure if it’s a result of the therapy or that he’s back at school and keeping busy. It might not be a coincidence that his compulsions were at its worst during the summer break on days that he was sitting around the house bored and doing nothing.

As part of his therapy treatment, he has been trying to cut back on the blood sugar testing which had gotten out of control. It has only been one week of school, but he’s done real well with that. Again, I think the distraction of school is key. And the sensor.

I really don’t like it when Charlie is unsensored. We’ve come to rely on the peace of mind that it provides. It keeps the pieces of our mind somewhat intact. I think we’re all done with living in the dark 24/7. I hate that the mystery of blood sugar is only solved by piercing my son’s skin with a needle.

I do. I like the sensor. I like it when he’s sensored. Especially while he’s at school. I’ve found that it is quite accurate for the most part. It gives us a number that is in the ballpark and that is amazing. The arrows that indicate the direction of his blood sugar is also wonderful. Here’s an example of before and after.

Unsensored:

CHARLIE: I think I’m low.

ME: OK, let’s check your blood sugar.

ME (again): Nope. 263.

In the above example - which occurred just about every day - two things will happen. 10 minutes later, Charlie will again think he could be low and he will test himself yet again. He might even test a third time. And from my perspective, I will start wondering if he’s ever going to start coming down or if his blood sugar is only going higher. Do I need to make a correction?Yet another prick of the finger.

Sensored:

CHARLIE: I think I’m low

ME: OK, what does your pump say?

CHARLIE: 263 with two arrows down.

ME: Two arrows? Good. You’re coming down from breakfast.

And he walks away, no longer focused on this stupid disease.

And now for something completely different ...

What is more creepy? Silly Putty Face Barbie? Or bat in sandal?

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