Not that I had any real doubt, but you know….

It’s possible, just possible, that somehow all the doctors got it wrong. Etc. I’m thinking this occasionally. I’m also thinking gee my sugar’s probably all over the place. I’m really thirsty. Have been for years. 

This is all alongside one of my very first reactions: give it to me. Make me have it, Lord. I’m ready. I can take it. I’ve had 44 good (mostly!) years. I’m happy. Give it to me. Don’t make him carry it.

Well, so. Yesterday morning E says hey wanna test your blood sugar? Sure, says M. Sure, say I.

He does all the mechanics, and a drop of bright blood expertly squeezes onto the monitor from M’s slim, long finger (I’m thinking, ack imagine having a two year old with this! Imagine. So many do. Their little fingers…)

M’s reading: 4.7 mmol

Me next. It hurts. E apologises.

My reading: 4.1 mmol


Let me put this into context, just in case. 

1) We’d be jumping for joy if E’s blood glucose level ever approached this regularly. Truth is, he’s been there half a dozen times over the entire last 8 weeks: and all of those times, he has felt ‘hypo’ — shaky, unwell.

 2) M and I had eaten less than an hour before the test. Which means our bodies were in full digestion mode. If E had tested then, his sugars would have been at least depressing and probably a little scary, probably 4 times (at least) our level. 4 times!

3) All of our calculations go into trying to get E into the ‘target range’ of 4-7 mmol upon waking (fasting level), and 10 mmol before a meal in the daytime. Our own levels, so low, so even, so perfect, are just the results of having this amazing, amazing ability to distribute insulin in just the right measure, at just the right time. Incredible.


What I learned.

1) M does not have diabetes.

2) I do not have diabetes.

3) E does and always will have diabetes.

4) He has to carry it.

5) I can’t.