The Entertainer

All rhubarb systems go.

All rhubarb systems go.

Opening night! 4:30PM seem auspicious time rhubarb crisp: beautiful day, performance in evening, rhubarb crisp = Bubs’s favorite food, & 112/arrow diagonal down. Pre-show also ate low carb tortilla + black beans, farmer’s cheese, carrots.

About half an hour pp: where is my grammy? I am a rock star.

About half an hour pp: where’s my Grammy? I am a rock star. 122/ straight.

Before leave house for theater, quick check of Dex reveal who is superstar of rhubarb bolus.

Hour later: Bubs appear from backstage blackjack game, find Bigfoot auditorium. I feel low. Sigh. 65. Dex concur. Post Fun Dip hustle backstage for more blackjack. No re-check? Mom, I’m the DEALER. And it’s really fun. I kind of like the independence of it. Of being away from me? No. Of being a blackjack dealer.

It was blue Fun Dip---not a great choice before appearing on stage.

It was blue Fun Dip—not a great choice before appearing on stage. On account of it turning the eater’s entire lower face region blue.

BIGFOOT: Take this extra Fun Dip with you

BUBS: Nah

BF: What if you feel low during the show? You don’t have to carry the meter. If you feel low again, just chug the Fun Dip. Or you can check the Dexcom, and then chug the Fun Dip

BUBS: Mom. No. Nuh-uhn

BF: What would you do if you felt low?

BUBS: I’d tell someone to get you

BF: During the show?

BUBS: (Shrugs)

Bigfoot give Fun Dip director’s assistant. Probably useless gesture.

Soon enough = showtime. See Bubs 2nd scene. Look like feel ok, but head down. Difficult discern well-being because role is act cool. Cool, aloof? Or verge of faint? Turn out looking down because little trouble (snag) pull comb out of jeans pocket for choreographed hair combing move. He was just trying to get the comb. He’s fine. <—It Bigfoot whisper spouse.

Show fantastic. One idea for improve.

photo

instead of this ^ application of multi-media

    Could try this ^. Something the whole audience could enjoy.

Could try this ^. Something the whole audience could enjoy.

After show, Bigfoot tell Bubs so happy, so proud of, was it fun? Like perform with big audience? What best part?

dex during play

Let’s not even play this game. Or let’s! The Fun Dip was too much OR the rhubarb crisp had a delayed punch OR the excitement of performing made cortisol course through his veins OR the excitement of being a blackjack dealer did it OR he’s getting sick OR the tubing got kinked during a costume change.

Wait at least five minutes before ask Did you look at the Dexcom at all during the show?

BUBS: Yup

BIGFOOT: Was it helpful?

BUBS: (Shrugs)

BFOOT: Did it get in your way at all?

BUBS: Nope

after the play he ate and was high

I think 4 Juicy Juices/1 night is our record

Arrive home, Bubs hungry and high, big bolus. Go 240-191-69-66 within one hour. Think that can’t feel good but Bubs seem OK with it. In morning, Bigfoot can see in notes Spouse up all night administering Juicy Juice.

WTF? Post-show high not require correction bolus some reason? Because not high from food, but high from stress? But what is high BG if not high blood glucose i.e. sugar—regardless what spur rise?

Meanwhile all night Dexcom in & out of function. Sensor Day 3. Just when think maybe better pull sensor/start over, sensor work again & accurate as all get out. Dang. Only make Bigfoot love more.

In morning, Bigfoot sleep late because migraine (irrelevant but pity always welcome)—causing pancake delay. Bubs wake up 122, then Minecraft happily while wait decrepit mother beat egg into pancake form.

inadvertent basal testing

This one means to illustrate the inadvertent basal testing, but maybe more illustrates the sensor spacing out on its job. CLUE TO THE SENSOR: He doesn’t wear you just because you’re cute.

This create inadvertent basal testing. Breakfast normal day = 7AM-ish/today 9:30AM. Climb 122 —>250 (250 on VerioIQ, 245 on Dex) interim. So perhaps make basal rate higher 5AM – 8AM? And breakfast I:C ratio lower–or higher–however describe less insulin per CHO. Clearly require further study.

OR maybe preferable just eat food at 7AM, keep same program.

 we do 1tsp rms + 1-2tsp this stuff. he loves it he would probably like it plain. jack likes it too. I don't know how I feel about jack eating Splenda, but I think in B'a case it's probably for the best while we're in the pancakes (which is actually an egg) every day phase

Thank you, Type 2 house guest of friend, for leaving this behind on your recent visit. And thank you, friend, for passing it along. I never, ever would have tried it on my own.

Meanwhile, pancakes situation. Every, every day Bubs eat that eggcake. Love the eggcake. And also love this fake maple syrup. Currently mix 1 tsp. real maple syrup + 1-2 tsps. fake. Bubs adore. Would happily eat sans real maple component but Bigfoot afraid then pancake breakfast too low carb. Jack like fake syrup now too. Bigfoot not sure how feel about Jack eat Splenda, but think Bubs’s case probably for best.

Matinee now! C ya.

I wish I had seen this on Beta Buddies before opening night.

Someone should fold this.

Someone should fold this.

Dress Rehearsal

The Klansman waves goodbye.

8:03AM: the Klansman waves goodbye.

Spring semester roll toward summer with three performances end of week plus standardized science testing plus School of Rock, dentist, dilated eye exam, lacrosse, plus usual everything do; fingers crossed also hair/toe maintenance (Bigfoot only); plus friend/running partner moving away, need many lunch/dinner/beer dates. Also running dates.

Bubs not star show. Parent heart in throat regardless: feel miracle Bubs agreeable for wear jeans/wife-beater ensemble, perform choreographed moves, public singing. Shy, silly person apparently grow up/expand horizon.

Today first dress rehearsal. 4:45 – 7:30PM with instruction: eat dinner before rehearsal.

This looks much worse than it is. I mean, that's not his real skin, and the dark bits aren't coagulated blood.

This looks much worse than it is. I mean, that’s not his real skin (Flexifix!), and the dark bits aren’t coagulated blood. But it is totally hanging off. Yet still working with numbers that match VerioIQ. What?

Bigfoot plan real dinner (grilled meat/broccoli salad) for 7:30PM; requisite pre-dinner = pizza/Diet Coke en route @4:30PM. Dexcom 102 & straight, Verio IQ114. Under-bolus even though pizza because not sure what rehearsal mean for up/down BG.

4:46PM.

4:46PM.

VerioIQ confirms it. BOOM.

VerioIQ confirms it. BOOM. Players, this is with the Dexcom sensor hanging offa him, barely attached.

Arrive rehearsal. Zzt-zzt-zzt. LOW UNDER 80. Pffft.

2 Glucolift. Only 2 because pizza. Because under-bolus. And because pizza.

Half of a moment later. Two Glucolift in belly. Time to go backstage. Thus ends Dexcom coverage.

4:58PM. Two Glucolift in belly. Time to go backstage. Thus ends Dexcom coverage.

Zzt-zzt-zzt-zzt! LOW UNDER 55. This moment = Bubs presence required stage left. Because time for sing & dance of course. Mouth from seat in remote-enough for not embarrass auditorium section Do you feel low? Bubs mouth back I’m fine. Bigfoot not very worried, everything so new. Nothing bad ever happen stage performance entire family history. Like baby crawl into cute/wild hyena cage. All new. Curious.

photo-38-1

There he goes. He was already doing his Cool Boys snaps. I’M FINE.

Dang. Stage left out of range Dexcom. Bigfoot turn on screen every few seconds anyway. Nothing. Maybe tiny bit more fear than hyena-cage baby.

At last see Bubs. Song & dance Cool Boys song. Not seem low. Seem OK dancer, no tipsy/sweaty/annoyed. After West Side Story + Bye, Bye Birdie songs, 6:30PM VerioIQ 299. That can’t be right. Your fingers must be Glucolifty. Wash hands 349. Hmm? Correction 2.25u (ISF 1:80; with idea drop 180 points, please.)

Wish could have seen dramatic climb via Dexcom! Sure would make fantastic hidden picture.

The incredibly good looking dancer who's taller than the rest is B's teacher. You can't make this kind of person up.

The incredibly good looking dancer who’s taller than the rest is B’s teacher. You can’t make this kind of person up.

Low People Problems: Efficacy of Rogaine at the Tricentennial

Hypoglycemia = long, strange trips in conversation. Take long time Bigfoot realize why fall into cuckoo rabbit hole @bedtime this weekend:

BUBS: Do you think I’ll live to see the tricentennial?

BIGFOOT: Hmm. How old will you be?

BUBS: I don’t know

BFOOT: Well, that will be in 2076—oh, yeah. You’ll be alive. You’ll only be 73!

BUBS: What about you?

BF: I’d be 105. So probably not. I hope not. I don’t think I’d like to live that long

B: Mama, is baldness (covers mouth with duvet)…genetic?

BF: I think for the most part it is. Yes

B: Do you think I’ll be bald?

BF: No. They say you’ll have the same kind of hair or baldness as your mom’s dad. So you’ll be like Grandpa Bob. Not bald at all

B: Do you think I’ll have to have chemotherapy and get bald from that?

BF: Nooo…?

B: Because I already have a disease, so I probably can’t get cancer, right?

BF: Well, anyone can get cancer, but I don’t think you’ll get cancer. That seems extremely unlikely

B: Do you think Rogaine works on bald men?

BF: No, not really.

B: Do you think Rogaine will work on bald men in time for the tricentennial?

BF: I guess it might. Maybe. There’s already something people can put on their eyelids to help their eyelashes grow, so maybe they will invent a version of that for the whole head

B: Well if I get bald, and Rogaine doens’t work yet, could I have surgery to help me grow hair?

BF: There is a surgery some bald men get, but it usually looks kind of weird. And if you were bald from chemotherapy, you probably couldn’t have hair surgery right away, and remember that electrician? He had the surgery to put hair on bald spots, and it looked really bad

B: I really don’t want to be bald for the tricentenial

BF: I think when you’re in your 70′s, you’ll have very nice hair and—

DEX: Zzzzt! Zzzzt! Zzzzt! Zzzzt!

B: It says I’m 46, with the arrow going diagonally down

BF: Ohhhkay

WTF Mystery Theatre

It started with a bad swag on this ganache cake, made by young Jack. I used the 54g CHO I found on a random web site for one-twelfth of a random layer cake as my guide, even though our cake was in 16ths, because we eat our cake a la mode

It started with a bad swag on this ganache cake (cake made by young Jack). I used the 54g CHO I found on a random web site for one-twelfth of a random layer cake as my guide, even though our cake was in 16ths, because we eat our cake a la mode

Deep sleep. Phone ringing, ringing, ringing. Probably one of our parents calling to say another one of our parents is dead. Bigfoot parents more reserved—would wait until morning. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Gah! Let it go to voicemail! Must be one of Bigfoot Spouse’s parents. They should really wait to tell us until morning, because there’s nothing we can do about it.

BIGFOOT: What time is it?

BSPOUSE: Hmmm?

BIGFOOT: Your phone

BSPOUSE: Hmm?

BF: Your phone

BSPOUSE: (Rolls over, turns off phone)

BF: Why was it ringing like that weird kind of ring?

BSPOUSE: Hmmm?

BF: That different ring

BSPOUSE: Eyenaknow

BF: Was he low and it’s an alarm to wake you up?

BSP: Hmm?

BF: He was low again?

BSP: No, it was weird. I gave him half a unit

Now Bigfoot little bit awake for piece together situation, Spouse utterly unstirrable. Bed time: 76. Half a glass of milk. 10PM: 57 Must have over-bolused for the cake. 15g CHO Juicy Juice. 10:30 90-something. Good enough for me; I’m asleep. 12AM: 178 <—that courtesy BSpouse; must have been up cleaning after little dinner party, decide might as well check again before retire. 12:30AM 199 <—BSpouse again. Must have been worried #climbing? 0.45u. This bring story to 2AM phone ringing + Current Episode WTF Mystery Theatre. 300.

Was it

  • Miss Scarlett in the infusion site with a bloody clog?
  • Professor Plum in the liver with an organic glucagon response to the low?
  • Mrs. Peacock with a juice concentrate accident in the Juicy Juice juice box factory?
  • Colonel Mustard with a cannula kink?
  • Mrs. White with carby residue on the fingertip?

Get carried away with accuse Mrs. White, wipe finger alcohol, retest, during 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 forget other suspects: 306. Suggested correction: 1.35, Bigfoot dose 1.55 for luck. Then remember other characters.

Miss Scarlett: Check site. Can ascertain plugged in. Not wet. Visual exam by VerioIQ screen light reveal looks OK

Prof. Plum: Liver not Bigfoot purview

Mrs. P: It too farfetched

Col. Mustard: New site from 4PM, work fine all evening; wonder could subcutaneous kink occur at time other than during insertion/kachunk?

Wish remembered correction w. syringe option before correct w. pump in case Colonel Mustard. Now awake beyond lizard part of brain function. No way fall back to sleep after high level cognition (witness above). Cross fingers, check BG again 4AM.

Luckily, dinner guest offer Netflix stream suggestion for just such occasion: Horse Boy documentary autistic boy/adventuresome family travel Mongolia for ride horses & meet shamans.

Poor Joe

Riding on Insulin. They had fun! I wasn't there.

Riding on Insulin. They had fun! I wasn’t there.

Riding on Insulin Massachusetts Saturday. Bubs, West Bay Bubs, West Bay Sister, 40+ other children attend. Joe accompany Bubs because Joe snowboard expert. Bubs report good time. Happy.

Mollie Busby is SO nice and she has a walkie talkie!

We want to go snowboarding there again!

We got to wear these arm bands!

One kid used glucagon when he was low! He said he did it all of the time!

Those Hershey nuggets are really something.

Those Hershey nuggets are really something.

Joe report shame: parent discussion group, someone ask pump name, Joe not remember Animas. Parent respond, what do you mean you don’t remember? Also shame: Bubs & WBB order same meal: steak frites. WBB eat only steak part, Bubs eat only frites. WBB family see Joe preside over complete disaster meal. Poor Joe.

Meanwhile, Bigfoot/Jack stay home. It Mother & Son Carb Freedom Fest. Friday night dinner at The Beehive. Then Cadbury Minieggs dessert. Then fill Superbowl pinata assorted chocolates, maybe eat one, two, or seven. Saturday morning breakfast at Tazza. Saturday Linner/Dunch at Chipotle. Then shop for jeans at Gap. (Tip: “Sexy Boyfriend” = skinny jeans for booty-rich woman. Challenge decipher jeans names: “Legging Jean,” “Always Skinny” = for actual skinny persons size 0-14. “Curvy” = boot-cut for woman from 1990′s.) Then shop Super Bowl snack Trader Joe’s. Then for farewell Carb Freedom Fest, visit Orange Leaf frozen yogurt.

We shared one small bag. There were only about six inside.

We shared one small bag of Mini Eggs. There were only about six inside, or the person in charge of divvying them up was not completely aboveboard.

Carb Freedom Fest not so thrill. It really more about Freedom Carb Math Tyranny than eat yummy food. Because still feel sick if eat too many sweets.

Sunday, boys visit Rhode Island’s own ski hill for tubing adventure with friends + 7,000 other (possibly curious, observant) people from town. Bigfoot stay home, make Superbowl foods. Buy pens, notebooks. Browse bookstore. Then receive text re perhaps most extreme instance HRPD to date. Cringe.

I'm glad I missed this one.

I’m glad I missed this one.

Poor Joe.

Social Studies

Tonight dinner table: Jack tenterhooks re midterm exam scores because determine make/not make high honor roll & high honor roll = Bertucci’s** dinner. Pacing. Checking for grades online over & over. Not up yet. Then “I got a 100 on my Social Studies exam!” (**Link = page w/ carb PDF download.) (<–Handy!)

BIGFOOT: Woohoo!

Bubs, cheerful mouth full black beans I used to be so good at Social Studies. Chomp, chomp. chomp. I was like, so far ahead! I used to be like, as good as Will and Peter and Lucien. Chomp. Gulp water. Wipe face back of hand. But now I’m so far behind.

BIGFOOT: (Record scratch noise) Hwuh?

BUBS: I’m like five books behind

BFOOT: Oh? I didn’t know you were behind…

BUBS: Yeah, and each book is a state, so I’m like five states behind everybody else

BF: Hmmm?

BUBS: (Still blithely chewing) I had so much low blood sugar! I missed Social Studies for like a whole month

LogFrog now tracks Social Studies-related hypos.

LogFrog now tracks Social Studies in blue and deodorant in red

Hrmm? Teacher not mention Bubs fall behind. Maybe not so bad. Maybe Bubs imagine. Or could be school low expectation for hypoglycemia days, no one care Bubs fall behind, esp. since no Social Studies NECAP. Maybe NBD Bubs insist Connecticut not New England. Connecticut is NOT in New England. It is part of the tri-state area. Maybe OK?

Uncomfortable this situation. One hand, not want Bubs stay after school make up work on hypo days bc feel like punishment. Other hand, not want hypo days become excuse poor school performance/maybe more genteel say become excuse not live up to potential. Hand #3, what is intelligence anyway? Hand #4, who cares about 4th grade Social Studies? Hand #5, but that set bad precedent for future school year. H#6, what are my priorities supposed to be here? H#7, are MY priorities really what matter in this situation? H#8 just for octopus/symmetry.

Meanwhile, Jack asking this might sound weird, but how do you know when you need to use deodorant?

BIGFOOT: When you start to have smelly armpits

JACK: Maybe I will have smelly armpits after basketball tomorrow. Will you tell me if I do?

BFOOT: Sure

BUBS: I already wear deodorant sometimes

BF: You do?

BUBS: Yeah. I rub Dad’s on sometimes, but only because it smells so good. Not because I smell bad

BF: I’ve never noticed that you have it on

BUBS: The fragrance stays in my armpits pretty much, so only I notice it

SCORE

Social Studies: five states behind

Deodorant use: five years ahead

***

Pardon our bloody smudges

Pardon our bloody smudges

Also meanwhile: very cold outside. Be careful.

Carb Count of Monte Cristo: Maine

photo-3-1

The sandwich that started it all. Count the layers. Note the powdered sugar. Each potato is the size of a baby’s fist.

Weekend. Drive Maine. Lunch stop tiny diner. Bubs order croque-monsieur. It huge. Include mug of maple syrup. Huge. Triple decker thick-slice white bread. Huge. Also potatoes. 112 before eat. Bigfoot swag 100g for 3/4 sandwich, potatoes, syrup, plus Diet Moxie. Retrospect, this meal probably qualify child abuse. In moment, Bigfoot happy Bubs try something new.

photo-6-1

What you looking at?

Hour + half later, arrive Freeport for winter festival. Meet cousin & daughter. Get in line for festival. Kids run around, throw snow. Bubs trot over I feel a little low. 38. Shit! 4 Glucolift. Ten minutes later 57. 4 Glucolift. 69. Shit! Glucolift travel tube empty. Bigfoot Spouse cold fingers unable open emergency key ring supply—fumble open Cadbury Mini-eggs instead. 62. Cousin find White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cliff Bar in boot bag. 41g CHO. No insulin. Whole time on shuttle bus, mysterious Mexican Wrestler craning neck watch finger pricker, blood squeeze, snacks. Arrive festival 79.

I blobbed out my step-cousin once removed's face because I didn't want to mention this blog to her parents because they are psychologists and I didn't want them to make any intra-familial diagnoses.

I blobbed out my step-cousin once removed’s face because I didn’t want to mention this blog to her parents. They are psychologists. IRL she’s adorable.

photo-2

99 problems and diabetes ain’t one. An excerpt of the waiver for the very charming L.L. Bean Winter Festival.

Burly L.L. Bean ice sculpting instructor notice Bigfoot/pale Bubs hunch middle snowy field, testing. BLLBISI ask Bigfoot cousin, “Is he okay? Is he diabetic? Does he need anything?” Little mouse cousin proclaim BLLBISI kind of rude. He said you were pathetic! This family favorite rhyme misunderstand of weekend. 72. Sweetarts.

Festival maybe lovely? Bigfoot no idea. Only notice it’s really bad that I don’t have any glucose tabs on me. And what if his site ripped out? I’m totally unprepared. And imagine how would I explain this to me if I were my supervisor? I brought him out to this field with three rolls of Sweetarts and a tube of frosting. Wretched. Any rate: everyone live. Kids happy.

Dinner: Portland. Flatbread. Yum. Salad, pizza, blueberry soda, beer. Normal/high-ish BG before dinner: 145. Maybe 60g CHO, bolus as if 45g. Kids finish eating, play outside in snow. Adults stay inside, more Fatty Bampkins. Arrive outside, entire city Portland age 12 & under in snowball fight. Fantastic time. Eventually, Bubs come over. I feel kind of vulnerable. (Are you cold? Do you feel low?) I don’t know. 111. More snowball fight. Then too cold. Good night, cousins.

photo-4

Even in the tiniest hotel pool, you can play some pretty vigorous Marco Polo if Polo totally cheats.

In hotel, decide try little swim. I’m so hungry. (Do you think you could be low?) No. I’m just hungry. Do we have any granola bars? (Yes, let’s test first.) 82. (You should have a granola bar before you swim.) Can I have two? I mean can I have three? Can we make cocoa in the lobby? Do we have any cheese? Are there honey peanuts in the snack bar? (Let’s start with one granola bar.) Make sure not drop more before swim: 120.

After 20 minutes Marco Polo: I feel low. 67. Sweetarts. 89. More swim, but half-hearted. Shower, PJ’s. 175. Correction. Bedtime. 156. 1AM Bigfoot wake up, head throbbing (Fatty Bampkins?), puke city. Test Bubs 76. Sound asleep, suck down entire Juicy Juice in few long tugs. Read Thomas Pierce* wooly mammoth Shirley story old New Yorker. Sad. 90. Good enough? Bigfoot not able sleep anyway. Throb throb throb. Curse Fatty Bampkins. 2AM 97. Okay? Not sleep. Read The Cookbook Collector. Perfect, easy, fall right in. Grateful Fatty Bampkins headache. Grateful diabetes. So much time for read good book. 3AM 145. Okay.

*From Thos. P. interview re wooly mammoth story. Hmm: We’re all muddling through life, just like Mawmaw. She’s doing the best she can to make sense of the universe with the information she has. The mammoth is a big piece of new information that comes to live in her very own backyard. One option is to ignore it—which she does initially—and the other is to deal with it. I’m not sure that the mammoth shakes her faith, but it definitely forces her to reëxamine** her beliefs.

**I love it when they bust out the umlauts

 

Low. Low. Low.

This is A) creepy B) like an ad for the VerioIQ C) both

This is A) way too creepy B) like an ad for the VerioIQ C) both

Low.

Today 4 h. after breakfast, low. 68, 88, 69, + @lunch Bigfoot Spouse misread serving on box. Count 60g CHO as only 15g. One unit insulin when should have been 4u. But no high.

8PM: I feel kind of weird—I think I might be dropping. 69. Skittles. 15 min. later: 63. Skittles. 15 min. later 65. Skittles. I’m so hungry, can I have some cheese? (No. You have to wait.) 9PM 78. Cheese. Peanut butter sandwich. Water. More cheese. Insulin for sandwich**. Brush teeth. Could I just have one more peanut butter sandwich? Wait—I meant two more? (No.) 9:30PM (Already so late?) Bed. 70. Juice box. Turn down basal. 9:45PM 88. 10PM 70. Juice. I’m so tired. (I know. I’m sorry.) I’m kind of cold. Can I have a sleeping bag? (Sure.) Thanks, Mama. Mama? I’m kind of hot. I just feel so much adrenaline, you know? (I better test you again.)

CLICKPOKE. Ow! Nice going. (Cold, psychotic stare) I mean, good job. You keep me awake and then poke me so it really hurts? Nice one. (You might be getting that adrenaline-y feeling from being low.) That’s a great story. I had no idea. Wow. You’re like, an expert scientist now. Thanks a lot for the tip. 77.

(Suddenly all sweetheart-y again) Good night, Mama! Thanks. Can you tuck me in? (Sure. But I’ll be back soon to make sure you’re not dropping, so try to sleep with a few fingers showing.) Okay, Mama. 10:45PM MOM! (Yelling) NEXT WEEK MAY YOU DRIVE ME TO TARGET TO USE MY GIFT CARD TO GET MORE CHIMA(I will.) Will they accept a Target gift card for Lego Chima? (They will. You can get whatever you want with that gift card.) Are you sure they’ll take it for Chima? (I’m sure.) I’m kind of hot. I mean, I’m cold. MOM! I NEED TO SWISH WATER AROUND IN MY MOUTH TO WASH OFF THE JUICE!

Bubs swish water for long, long time, eyes close, head nod down/back, more swish. Then, confused, swallows dirty swishwater, asleep. 11PM 84.

Reach under duvet. Hot, cold, clammy. Check pump basal program, because program lower AM basal as per endo. Think “Maybe I accidentally put a 3 where there should have been a 0.3.” No. Basal program okay.

Hear Bubs asleep mumbles. Probably still feel oogy. 11:30PM 95.

Creepy photo Bigfoot creep up on sleeping child remind Bigfoot creepy feeling wash over heart, settle in gut during Terry Gross interview Barry Lopez. Pedophile convince child Barry Lopez something wrong w. c.B.Lopez & remedy = rape. Child try assimilate rape into normal life. CBL think, “I can trust this adult. This hurts and seems weird but he says I have to do it to get better from what is wrong with me, so I will not complain.” Too familiar! Little boy totally trust Bigfoot it necessary for health poke finger, take blood, wake up, force juice, attach machinery, all manner weird shit. Well, obvsly, not really same thing, but similar*:

“I was a child,” he tells Fresh Air‘s Terry Gross. “I was 7 years old, and the world of medicine and the world of treatment and the world of how we take care of each other was a tabula rasa for me. I knew that [...] I was in the hands of somebody that I knew the adult world respected, and as a young person trying to learn the world, I was trying to understand things that were new to me, and that just fell into that category.

*You can find more diabetes brain (= automatically incorporate diabetes into anything), with less pedophilia and more cute containers here. I am so grateful that I read Kelly’s definition of diabetes brain today. Sometimes just being able to name your disorder is a huge relief.

**That insulin was a mistake, but I have to hand it to me: I could not have known.

Itch & Stomp

B

ubs low walk home. Half mile to go. I feel low.

No glucometer this short walk. Contents Bigfoot pocket: dog poo bag, phone. Bubs’s backpack contain emergency packs Mike and Ike. No meter.

BIGFOOT: Let’s bust out the Mike and Ikes!

BUBS: No way. I’m not going to eat before I test

BIGFOOT: If you feel low, you have to have sugar. Stop walking so I can get the Mike and Ikes out of your backpack

BUBS: No! What if I’m high?

BIGFOOT: We can fix that when we get home. But if you feel low, I’m sure you’re low

BUBS: No way. What if I’m like, a thousand, and the Mike and Ikes kill me?

BFOOT: It doesn’t work that way. You’d have to be high for a long time, and I know that you were 121 fifteen minutes ago, because Mrs. Nurse told me, so you definitely have insulin working in there, and you’re not going to die from eating candy no matter what

BUBS: I’m not?

BF: But if you’re low, that’s dangerous—especially since we’re walking. Just put a Mike and Ike in your mouth and then we can keep walking and I won’t keep talking about it

BUBS: No. And if you keep telling me to eat candy before I test, I will stop right here. Why are you always so mean to me?

This point Bigfoot pretty sure Hypoglycemic Ridiculous Personality Disorder take over. Consider options:

  • Tackle. Put Mike and Ike in mouth, clamp hand over mouth so no spit out (FUTILE)
  • Tackle. Wish for frosting tube. Chew up Mike and Ike in own mouth, mother bird masticated candy into unwilling child (GROSS)
  • Try walk faster while appease HRPD (STUPID?)
  • Put vision passing out child away in brain-attic drawer, attempt act normal (BEST BIGFOOT CAN DO)

Rest of walk home Bubs stomping boots My! Feet! Itch! (That some sign? Mean some hypo thing?) Then neck itch. Then back itch! Then almost home, Bubs stops walking, kicking big frozen snowbank in attempt scratch foot deep inside snow boot. (Bigfoot say come on! Bubs say Wait! I’m trying to scratch it!) Then one house away, almost home: neighbor pull out of driveway, new car Hiiii! We’re car twins now! That make Bigfoot feel must stop chat so not seem unhappy neighbor select same car.

BF: Oh, right! Ooh, but yours is such a pretty color

BUBS: (stomp, stomp, stomp)

NEIGHBOR: Is it?

BF: I love it! Well, I hope you love it!

NEIGHBOR: Better than the van (rolls eyes)

BF: (Shit! Now neighbor has maligned van, how can get away? Need kind word re old van or will insult neighbor.) I think this car still has plenty of room; I’ve never really had (trying here for tone to imply “the blessing of”) a van though. (Shut up shut up go home stop talking! Why can’t I stop talking?)

BUBS: (stomp, kick, stomp) Mom?

At last: home. Bubs I’m starting to feel dizzy. Bigfoot too. Wash hands, seem take forever realize not time for wash hands, time for poke dirty, cold hand. 5 (prepare for 20-something), 4 (close your eyes), 3 (squint), 2 (close), 1, open

60.

Orange juice.

72, 112.

Then post-hypo ravenosity: You know what I really want, even though it’s kind of breakfast-y? A PANCAKE. Wouldn’t that be so good? And after that a grilled cheese sandwich and a nice cup of hot cocoa. Doesn’t that sound like it would taste so good right now? And Mama, could I also please have one glass of water? Are you going to say no? I’m sorry. I’m just really hungry. So…how much carbs is that going to be?

Bigfoot pretty keen Daily Drop Cap dot com.

Boys’ Bathroom Presentation

Today unusual: Bigfoot no telephone. Last night forgot phone @temporary workplace, nurse send diabetes updates via email. If emergency, plan call Bigfoot Spouse school secretary for find Bigfoot Spouse. Nurse not usually communicate v. much during day; usually one email at end of day. But change in genre seem inspire extra nurse communication.

Hi Bigfoot, he was 45 feeling “low.” Juice. He is sitting out PE now & I’m going to re-test. He wanted to watch the PE class until we re-test. Thank you.

If that information come telephone, Bigfoot clarify: Wait, what? He’s going to walk down to the gym and watch the class while he recovers from the 45? And nurse would clarify: no, of course not. I would never let him leave my office at 45.

He was 119 @9:52. 10:20 = 75 (after PE). 41g we covered 31g, 1 unit, I hope that was ok, he was late for a boys bathroom presentation. Thank you.

If via phone: Wait, what? What is a boys’ bathroom presentation and why does it matter if he is late? How did all of this happen at the same time as PE?

And this

11:30 = 122
12:40 = 155  no lunch – he wasn’t hungry
2:40 = 203  20g  2.5u    (they were having a tiny ~ 1.25 in. by 1.25in. brownie with a little frosting & 2-3 M&M’s on top) No way to look it up so hopefully 20g isn’t too far off!

If telephone, would call, ask if OK brownie, ask Bigfoot guess carbs. Someone else guess provide such relief. Bigfoot love not have phone.

After school Bubs I had a hard day. I was feeling low, but we were in music and it was really fun, and I just wanted to stay, so I stayed, and then I started to get really dizzy, so I said, “Help! I feel low. Just kidding!” because I still didn’t want to leave. But the teacher made me go to the nurse and I was 45.

What else? Then a kid teased me, and then all day I kept remembering the tease, and it hurt just as much to remember, so I kept getting hurt feelings over and over again.

BIGFOOT: I know what you mean

BIGFOOT SPOUSE: What did the kid tease you about?

BUBS: I don’t remember

BFOOT: Was it intelligence, appearance, odor, or personality? (<–asked as if there are just these four definitive teasing options)

BUBS: Maybe appearance

BF: Was it like, “Ugh, your hair’s so long,” or “Ew, you have a space between your teeth,” or “Look at you; you’re so skinny.” (<–that sounds mean, but those are all things B. actually likes about himself)

BUBS: I don’t remember, okay?

Yesterday 4:30PM same excellent nurse call Bigfoot for voice mail hi, Bigfoot, I’m at home thinking about Bubs’s numbers. He was 276 before dismissal, so he had a correction, but he was in the 90′s after lunch, and I know you’re not home so he was going to a friend’s house, and something about that just doesn’t seem right to me, so I thought you might want to call the friend’s house to double check on his numbers. I mean I know I’d feel much better if I knew you got his number, and could you please call me to tell me he’s okay? (Sorry Bigfoot not listen this message until 8PM.) (Right before leave phone under paper stack.) Bigfoot gobsmacked how kind, caring this nurse. Sorry for delay.

Meanwhile, class holiday party time around corner. Classroom mother email volunteers healthy snack, beverage w. cups or mini water bottle, beads, yarn. Bigfoot superfast reply-all “I’ll send in the beverage and it will be mini water bottles” try block possibility Hawaiian Punch, elbows out, center gravity low. Other parent super fast chime in “I’ll bring fruit salad for the snack!” ((Heart flutter.)) (In defense, Bigfoot not fond reply-all for class email style but this style prevail Bubs’s 4th grade and Bigfoot trying blend.)

Meanwhile meanwhile, Bigfoot/BSpouse expand babysitter repertoire. Now Dream T1D Teen Babysitter, Dream T1D Teen Babysitter II, BSpouse father. Therefore sometimes Bigfoot leave town work afternoon, plus movie date: Silver Linings Playbook, +20 minute drive there/back, car stereo repeat Locked Out of Heaven. Like dream. This all possible because Bubs know how/why/what/when.

Bigfoot say other thing

Bigfoot sure this not right placement Pinterest button

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