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| Articles - Diabetes Articles | |||
| Tuesday, 25 May 2010 10:17 | |||
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I should have known it would be one of these kind of days when he woke up high. I played things a bit too cautious with his correction since he was heading off to preschool, and by snack time my phone was ringing because he was the kind of high where the meter uses words instead of numbers.
He was laying down in the office when I got there, and was looking like he was really feeling every bit as high as the meter said. He broke down when I told him we'd have to skip snack today, since it would just make him feel more yucky right now. He cried the kind of cry that I hate to hear. Not the four year old, whiny, I-didn't-get-my-way cry, but the it's-just-not-fair, defeated cry that breaks my heart. I wanted to grab him right then and run away with him. Take him home for some kind of snack he could have- cheese, meat, sugar free jello... I knew I had a bag of almonds he could eat in his bag, but school is a nut-free zone, and they aren't allowed to keep any of those perishable, carb-free snacks in their kitchen due to licensing, so it was off to class he went for his last week with his friends. He stayed high for most of the afternoon, and with that kind of quiet often comes his most disarming inquisitiveness. We were driving home when we passed a drop in child care place we had used once or twice when we moved into town. Not long ago, he had mentioned how fun it was there, and asked if he could go back. I told him that he was a super special boy and now he needs super special people to take care of him so they can help with his diabetes. He seemed satisfied with that at the time, but today, as we drove by, in the most wistful, tiny voice he said "Mom, I hope that someday there is a cure and I can go there again." I hope so too, buddy.
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