The Talented Mr. Dexcom

Maybe the Dexcom blanked out for this part of the day just to be polite.

After a near rumble bump around 7pm ending with a cheerful upward swoop, Dexcom politely went dark for the next part of the evening.

Marge Sherwood: The thing with Dickie… it’s like the sun shines on you, and it’s glorious. And then he forgets you and it’s very, very cold.

Tom Ripley: So I’m learning.

Marge Sherwood: When you have his attention, you feel like you’re the only person in the world, that’s why everybody loves him so much.

—Marge and Tom refer to a Dexcom as “Dickie” in the film The Talented Mr. Ripley.

***

Mom. I feel low. I can still move my legs. I mean I can MOVE them, but they feel so…light, it’s like I can’t move them.

Let’s test.

42 mg/dL.

If you are going to give me juice, PLEASE let it be REALLY cold. Really, really cold.

(She hands him cold juice. He slurps it down.)

I NEED GLUCOSE TABS!

Do you want the bits or the big ones?

I DON’T CARE!

(She is kind of scared but still thinks Pierre. She hands him a container of bits. He flips open the cap and chugs.)

Um, you probably shouldn’t have that much, let’s wait fifteen minutes and then you can have more. You didn’t notice how many went into your mouth just then, did you? Could you feel them on your tongue and maybe guess?

(He defiantly meets her eye while swigging more bits.) (And she’s thinking: you chug, son. Go with your gut.)

Did you ever get the feeling of low, when your legs get all wigglety-bigglety? I hope when you get insulin, you will feel this way. Not because I want you to be in pain, but I just want someone to know what I mean. You know? Do you know what I mean? You know? How I feel? GLUCOSE!

62 mg/dL.

Well, that’s good. You’re going up. That’s something. (She thinks: but I wish you would keep chugging the bits against my will.)

Hungry.

Let’s just, could we wait? We really should wait to make sure you’re going up before you eat again.

(He chomps another mouthful of glucose bits. She thinks: 40, 50, 60 g CHO?)

Even though I’m really hot and sweaty, I just feel like putting on some winter pajamas. Wait. Now I feel unbelievably cold, and I am getting angry REALLY EASILY.

(He leaps out of bed and curls up on the floor. She thinks: would someone about to have a seizure have the agility to leap out of bed like that?)

Pajamas. Rrrm. Hot. Cold. I hate when my body does this to me. It keeps on going WHOOP-whoomp-WHOOP-whoomp. You know?

146 mg/dL.

I think you should take a unit for the extra glucose you had. (And she thinks: a unit, or three? Or none. Or what?)

Sorry about that. I just felt like: MUST CONSUME EVERYTHING IN ROOM. Like I would eat anything in my way. But I would really like to be under a fluorescent light. Don’t you love fluorescent light?

Not really. I like normal lamps.

Fluorescent lights always make me feel better when I’m low. I just think we would all feel better inside of some really bright things. I’m so tired. Good night.

Plotting Verio data points on the graph, the line would probably something like this.

Plotting Verio data points on the blank part of the graph, the line would probably something like this.

    But it feels like this (to one mother.)

But it feels like this (to one mother.)

Bigfoot say other thing

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