Another gray sprouted
November 10, 2014
Another gray hair sprouted and another year off my life. Because clearly I didn't have enough.
Yesterday, we picked the boys up from my mother-in-law’s house where they had spent the night. Quite often, we find their sugars a bit high after being spoiled by Memaw. (They deserve to be kids, deserve to be spoiled by grandparents, so we just deal with it). However, when I glanced at the Dexcoms (Continuous Glucose Monitors), the last reading showed the glucoses levels quite normal. It had not detected the glucose level of the boys in a few minutes however because they were out-of-range, so there really was no telling what the current glucose was.
Asa & Aiden were outside playing and were tickled pink to see their Daddy’s new truck. Activity and excitement can drive a normal glucose level down. Or up…depending on the day, barometric pressure, last meal, and color of their socks. (I know…that makes it simple, right?) Regardless, I told Aiden to go inside and gather his belongings and get his shoes on.
A few minutes later, I walked inside to check on them, and all I saw were feet and legs laying in the entry way. Dead-like. Motionless. Passed-out like. My instant thought was, “Oh CRAP! He passed out! Where’s his stuff? Where’s the Glucagon?” I called his name as I approached him and he didn’t respond. When I rounded the corner, I saw the little turkey quickly close his eyes. He was faking!
What was he doing? Being a boy. Pulling a trick on his Mommy…or Daddy…or brother…or grandparents…whomever was first to arrive. Unfortunately, it was me. He scared the life out of me and I was less than impressed. So thankful he was ok and playing, but now ready to kill him!
Proud Mommy moment…in a tone louder than usual (emphatic but not yelling), I told him he could pass out if his sugar was low, and that’s what I thought had happened. Told him he scared me to death. He apologized. No more passing out jokes or playing dead allowed as long as Diabetes is a barnacle in our lives!
Drop-kicking him wasn't an option. So, clutching my chest, I went back outside and told my husband we were going to have to give Aiden up for adoption lest he kill me! When I told him what I saw when I went in the house, his eyes about bugged out of his head. So, yeah, my reaction was legitimate. I think Jerry would’ve had heart failure, too.
Needless to say, I don’t think I’m going to make the “live to 100” goal I’ve had forever. Diabetes and my kids are making sure of that by regularly depriving me of sleep and taking years off of my life in a single moment. At this rate, I should’ve died last week.
On the way home, I stopped and bought a new bottle of hair color to mask the new gray hair I sprouted. As long as I have spunky little boys and Diabetes, I'll keep Miss Clairol in business.