Bigfoot Spouse allegedly brilliant plan for put skills to use: we should see if we could get a foster child with Type 2 diabetes.
BFOOT: Type 2? Why not Type 1?
BFSPOUSE: Too rare. And I’m sure our skills would apply to Type 2. Type 2 kids grow on trees!
BFOOT: Maybe, but we’d never pass the inspection
This haunting conversation. All day reverberate. No way Bigfoot family approve by DCYF for diabetes treatment home. Probably wind up in jail after one week, DCYF officer scribble on notepad:
- Sleeps through alarm* for 3AM blood sugar check five nights in a row (*probably because idiots fail to change alarm noise from the soothing Barack Obama ringtone)
- Allows more than ten days to lapse between check-ins with endocrinology team, even when obviously needs help adjusting overnight basal segment (*probably because of sleeping through the alarm and wanting to cover up the missing data the endo team is going to ask for)
- Offers breakfasts such as crepes** with Nutella even during the week that Time For Kids featured an expose of how disgusting Nutella is
- Carries the dreaded watermelon flavor glucose tabs, even though diabetic person in her care hates watermelon things
Bigfoot come up with alternative brilliant idea: how about Bigfoot spend part of summer volunteer Guatemala mission site? This trip overlap diabetes camp, give Bigfoot chance have adventure while not quite so much needed home. Travel with handsome older Doctor Without Borders, know from church. Only problem this plan: worry steal thunder from Bubs’s exciting adventure Southern Rhode Island. No doubt it big deal, sleep away from home five nights. This huge. If come home, mother in Central America with dysentery, maybe make big-deal sleepaway camp seem small.
(**in defense, crepes made with whole wheat pastry flour, almond milk, and duck eggs tasted “kind of like oysters” so not many carbs actually ingested)