A hushed answer of something like "Sure...I am just gonna check Joe's number and then I'll grab the veggies quick."
She knows that I am worried.
Joe is asleep or passed out or unconscious. I don't know which. My hunch is asleep, but with "D" as part of the picture it clouds my vision at times.
**********The past few days have been sun-up to sun-down activity in full sun. He is tired.
We had left the pool about 25 minutes prior. He slipped and fell in the pool parking lot as we departed. Road rash resulted. He didn't cry. He got up and brushed himself off. Once we were to the van though, his pump started in with the decrescendo alarm. "Pump Not Primed" was messaged on the screen. Fine. I unhook the pump from Joe. I rewound. I re-loaded the cartridge. I hooked the pump back up to Joe's site. And...off we went for our 20 minute, or so, drive to the farm. I hadn't checked Joe's blood glucose for about an hour...or so. Who knows.
I blare the music. I am thankful for the peace of the drive. The kids are too tired to bicker. The music drowns out any conversation they may want to initiate. I can mindlessly drive. I can enjoy my thoughts without interruption. I am now exhaling.
Then, I notice in the rear view mirror that Joe is out. Head~slumping~under~the~seat~belt, head~bobbing, mouth~slobbering~a~ bit~ "out". In my mind the following thoughts fleet "he is just asleep"..."however, what if the pump malfunctioned after that fall?" ... "how much insulin was in the cartridge?" ... "it would be too soon for him to pass out from that ... right?" ... "stop it, he is just sleeping!" ... "he is OK" ... "but..."
The thoughts continue as such. The positive, happy go-lucky me talking down the more realistic, morbid me. Through this conversation in my head, I decide to not freak and to just check his number once I arrive at the farm.
I prick his finger. He doesn't budge. 5-4-3-2-1. A 213 is obtained. I don't correct.
Salad turnips, kale, lettuce, garlic scapes, and radishes are gathered quickly so that I can get back to my tired crew that is holed up in the van.
Bridget is struggling with the in's and out's of sleep.
The drive home is more relaxing with the knowledge that Joe is indeed sleeping instead of the alternatives. Ah .... the little things.
A day-in-the-life of what enters my thoughts while caring for my child with Type 1 Diabetes.