Glamour Don’t: don’t have diabetes and eat rolls at Bertucci’s
Happy Diabetes Blog Week! Topic today:
Often our health care team only sees us for about 15 minutes several times a year, and they might not have a sense of what our lives are really like. Today, let’s pretend our medical team is reading our blogs. What do you wish they could see about your and/or your loved one’s daily life with diabetes? On the other hand, what do you hope they don’t see? (Thanks to Melissa Lee of Sweetly Voiced for this topic suggestion.)
Not matter if endocrinologist think Bigfoot smart, kind, wise, clever, pretty, all-around put together. But not able stop hope endo notice how very super-superior operation capable Bigfoot running over here. Current endo so gentle soul, cat hair on yoga pants, sends own appointment reminders instead of have secretary. Attitude-free person. No reason think endo judgmental, but Bigfoot always concern w. impress this nice woman. Ideally, publicly acknowledge Favorite Patient Parent of the Year—possibly small ceremony among New England medical elite, smattering applause, maybe honorary degree Harvard Medical School.
That why hope Endo day off from surveillance yesterday. It Mother’s Day.
Bigfoot kind of unorthodox Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day kick off week-long marathon of Forced Special Fun because same week wedding anniversary and birthday. So much pressure have fun. So for Mother’s Day wish instead of spend time family in motherhood tableau, ask Joe can you take them out for Jack’s honor roll celebration (know Jack always choose Bertucci’s Satantic Pizza & Dinner Rolls) while I go out to Garden Grille with the Famous Librarian? Wish granted. Kind of hurt Jack’s feelings but worth it for avoid The Diabetes Torture Chamber that is Bertucci’s.
Bigfoot free! Not contact Joe re how look up carbs on Bertucci’s web site. Not text remind disaster if eat rolls + carby meal, better try steer Bubs toward chicken. That how Bigfoot really let go. Eat beet latkes w. peanut harissa, tempeh tacos, steamed kale w. sunflower seeds gomashio, fiddlehead ferns, baby parsnips, raw chocolate. Briefly thought how many carbs beet latke but quickly put out of mind. Par-tay and yum.
Arrive home same time guys walk in. Immediate buzz kill. Joe enter w. large pizza box. That signal for ate so many rolls, unable eat pizza.
UH-OH MATH: if X goes out for pizza and comes home with the entire pizza, how many rolls did X’s diabetic child eat? ANSWER: X = despicably mellow.
JOE: He had so many carbs
BIGFOOT: Well, Bertucci’s. That’s why I didn’t want to go
JOE: No. I mean a lot of carbs
BFOOT: Like how many?
JOE: One hundred and sixty-two
BF: (displays double middle fingers)
JOE: It was just so easy to look up the carbs online. I didn’t even have to guess
Bigfoot look at notes. 10+ units bolus. Holy shit. Begin rant This is serious! This is your child! His eyeballs are going to shrivel up because of this. It’s like…child abuse. Or at least child neglect. This is so stupid.
JOE: The waiter kept bringing more rolls
BF: So you can tell the waiter to stop bringing them!
JOE: But Jack loves them so much. And it was 78 grams for the mac and cheese from the kids’ menu
JOE: I know!
BF: Well now we’re going to be up all night and I know you don’t care because you took the day off tomorrow, but that was supposed to be for our anniversary and now you’ll just be sleeping all day and who knows when you’ll ever be able to take the day off for our anniversary ever again? And he’ll feel shitty tomorrow and he won’t be able to concentrate at school, and then he’ll be embarrassed, and this whole thing just has a domino effect and you’ve probably ruined the entire week for our whole family!
JOE: I know
Probably carry on this dramatic vein few more paragraphs while Joe solemnly nod, all the while know when Bigfoot take Bubs Fro Yo World 100+g CHO “snack”, Joe never release peep of disapproval. Because Joe = saint? Or Joe = despicably mellow? Either way, Bigfoot know dramatic ranting not help win imaginary endocrinology award. Favorite Patient Parent award surely demand grace.
As per my prescient rant, Joe was up all night. However, no dried up eyeballs occurred.
Bedtime check of the Dex reveal small spike, speedy recovery, current #150-ish w. arrow diagonally down. NBD. Then Bigfoot think Joe is so fucking lucky! He has the Midas touch! One big bolus and it all balances out. That never happens to me! Everything works out for him! Being the uptight one is really not paying off! Not say any this out loud.
Wake up 4AM. Joe sitting up, headphones on, engrossed in computer screen.
BIGFOOT: Why are you up?
JOE: Oh my god. He’s been over 300 for hours. It won’t go down. I just checked again. He’s down to 294.
BF: (picks up same rant from earlier, as if no time has passed ending with…) and now you’ve ruined our day, his day, and his health forever and everyone’s going to be grouchy tomorrow and this totally sucks!
The stretched-out view of that poor Joe’s night. Stupid Bertucci’s.
Also threw in something re even if we rented that house in Tuscany with the chef, I wouldn’t let him eat that many carbs. And you did it at a chain restaurant in Warwick! Bigfoot kind of trouble with dropping it.
JOE: I know. I’m never going to Bertucci’s again. Does that house really come with a chef?
Bigfoot ramble off topic. Topic part is: don’t want medical team see Bigfoot complete dick. Want medical team see Bigfoot low-carb pancake flipping angel. Meanwhile, medical team priority = A1c < 7, hardness of thyroid gland, and no infection on pump site. Barely notice mother tap-dancing with spatula in angel costume.
Just stumbled across this from Jessica Apple re Joslin re high fat dinners.