Today B attended his school nurse meeting for a price: the promise of a “$2 realistic gun that doesn’t shoot anything” that he saw a few years ago at the Army Navy shop in Newport. DEAL!
Our school nurse knows everything about diabetes. We are lucky. Also B. has been switched into the classroom of a teacher who has had (a) diabetic student(s) in the past. It’s still pretty terrible to think of him going to school, and maybe being scared, and maybe growing up and not taking good care of himself, and an even worse health care situation in the United States resulting in no coverage for diabetes care (start hoarding insulin now?) and no hope and no research and no jobs and well, pretty much we’ll all just wander around, it’ll be just like in The Road, but in that case it will be bad for Jack and everyone else’s kids too. So that’s reassuring.
Maybe it will be OK for gazillionaires regardless, and B will be a gazillionaire and he will buy me a grotesquely fancy car which will be embarrassing but funny.
One of our doctors called today to say B also has a (separate but related?) disease where the thyroid attacks itself and stops working. She said this is very simple to fix and is not a surprise, but “watch for sluggishness.” It sounds really bad. I’m afraid to read about it. Recently I have noticed that in many cases it is better to not gather too much knowledge.
Here are the nice parts: brothers reading together on a sofa without fighting over whose feet go where; Jack had two friends over to play Munchkin and they holed up in his tiny bedroom as if playing a card game was a big secret; the nurse-the teacher-the school; 39-year-old Sunshine who has been diabetic since age 7 writes to me from France about her experience with the disease and her emails appear at odd times when no one else is focused on me. Also she is a food and wine expert and is in excellent health. In 1998, she made me fried catfish with mashed potatoes when How to Cook Everything was published.