The One In Which My Hair Accessories Save Joe???

We had a first tonight. It was a bit scary. Nothing that a firm, thicker than average bobby-pin adorned with a glittery red star couldn't take care of.

Joe had a busy week. His week entailed all the usual end-of-the-school-year festivities. Baseball for 2 hours each evening on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. A field trip in 90 degree weather with a 3 mile hike on Wednesday. Thursday was Field Day followed by the school Bar-B-Q. Today was the "Closing Day" of baseball.

Joe is grumpy.

Joe refused to eat dinner tonight ... not out of spite, he was just 'not hungry'.

Fine. I decided to basal assess the little troll. He has been running high after dinner for the past few nights and I would love to see what is going on with his underlying rates.

I let him know that we would not be assembling any sort of meal for him at a later point in the evening. He understood.

About an hour later...

Joe was asking for food. Dave and I stood our ground and refused. I don't know if it comes through on Beta Buddies, but Joe is a strong-willed being. I admire this quality. It will serve him well. However, at times, it can be a difficult quality to cultivate and nurture...and tolerate...and deal with... and live with...and co-habitate with.

So...

Joe, angrily and somewhat stomp-ily, headed up to his room. I went to the super-market for some wine and cosmetic products. Dave and Bridget were reading. I was gone for about 45 minutes.

Upon my return I checked in with Bridget. She said something about "Joe's door being locked... been trying to get in....blah...blah...blah" (she has a 'talking issue').

*shoot-stix*

His last number was 80 about an hour or so ago.

I went to his door and attempted to turn the knob. Nothing. It was locked. I knocked, loudly.

No response.

I pounded and yelled a bit ... "Joe!!! Let me in!"

No response.

I called down the stairs for Dave. I needed some "back-up".

Then, I started in with the threats, "Joe Maher if you do not open this door right now there is no TV, no DS, no roller blading, no nothing, I will take away E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G in this world that makes your life pleasurable!!!!"

No response.

Nothing.

Dave was then pounding on Joe's door, while I ran to grab my zebra-print bobby pin. I unbent it and straightened it a bit... I ruined it (one of my favorites). I tried slipping it into the key hole. It was too flimsy. Nothing happened. The door remained locked. My thoughts fleet to Joe's window. It is too high for us to reach exteriorly. Out of desperation and the need to 'do something' I pounded on Joe's door. Dave ran into our room and banged on the wall that separates Joe's room from my closet. Our efforts were loud.

No response.

Bridget was watching and asked (no, not even I ... can make this "stuff" up) "where is the cowbell?" I let her know that "this is no time for cowbell".

Dave ran down stairs. For what? I do not know. (a screwdriver, he now tells me)

I ran to my bathroom for my red~glitter~star~bobby~pin. It was firmer than my zebra one. It worked.

The sight when I entered was a sleeping Joe ... sweaty ... drooly ... sleeps~like~the~dead~Joe. It took a couple of minutes to shake and wake him. Dexter read 200 (double up). Real-time BG was 188. Wonderful, I found out why we are having so many post-dinner highs. I crank up his basal by 50% for 2 hours. I went ahead and increased his basal rate from 5pm to 7pm from 0.175units/hour to 0.2units/hour.

Joe was already back to sleep.

Dave, Bridget, and I were somewhat stunned over the antics that occurred during the previous 4 to 5 minute window of time.

A day-in-the-life of caring for someone you love who happens to have Type 1 Diabetes.