Before we get to Joe, Bridge got ahold of my phone the other day. Here is what I found:
A youngish lady was standing at the back of an SUV parked at the field entrance. She was checking in campers, while another fella sat on a fence post handing out soccer balls to each attendee.
Thought feed went something like: *Nah...I don't think this is where I tell them about the diabetes business*
They instructed us to move on down a wooded path to the fields. Camp-goers were gathered down and to the left; the coaches were way out on the fields straight ahead. Joe immediately peeled off to the left. As for me ... I was the only parent approaching the coaches. I identified that I had a camper with medical needs.
Joe attended a half day soccer camp yesterday in 88 degree heat with high humidity. The camp coaches are British, which in my opinion makes everything they say sound nice. The camp is close to our home; it lasts from 9 to noon.
Me to coaches: "My son, Joe Maher, has Type 1 Diabetes."
(for some reason I then kind of wiggle the Woodchuck side-to-side ... like the Woodchuck represents the diabetes)
I continued: "What time does snack take place?"
One of coaches (in British accent): "Haf pas ten."
The "haf" and the "pas" threw me off, so I asked to clarify: "Ten?"
The young woman coach could see my confusion and responded: "Ten thirty."
I then unzipped the Woodchuck and showed them my plan: Glucometer/sugar/snack/track phone and pointed out my cell phone number, which is written right on Woodchuck's lid. Joe would be checking a blood sugar at snack time. He would call me with his number and he and I would discuss how much, if any, of his Go Lean Bar (snack) he would bolus for. I then briefly went over lows, their immediate threat to his well being and pointed out my phone number again.
Me to the coaches: "Do you want me to bring Joe over here so you know which one he is?"
Coaches: "Nah...Joe Maher...right?"
Me, a little wary: "Yea" (wiggling the Woodchuck again) "he'll be the kid with this bag".
So, I left him. I left Joe at a half day camp with no intention of returning until noon. It was a first.
9:42am I get a call. It is Joe. It's his quiet voice; the I'm~not~feeling~good~and~not~having~fun voice: "I'm 84. I'm calling for your opinion."
My opinion: "Eat two Starbursts and then your snack now Joe...for free."
Apparently Joe had an opinion about my opinion: "No, mom... that is for snack time..." and then something was mumbled about the heat.
My other opinion: "K. Do four Starbursts then."
We hung up. I was worried that he was just slumpily sitting on the sidelines not feeling well. An 84 in the early morning is not a safe place for Joe's blood sugar to be. He usually has a ginormous post-breakfast spike (like into the low 300s) and his settings are adjusted accordingly (i.e. he receives a 1:10 breakfast ratio...with a 1:60 morning snack ratio to put the brakes on the breakfast insulin). After all this thought and careful planning that doesn't even seem like "thinking" or planning anymore because I have been doing this for like seven years now...I realize that I sent the little guy to soccer camp without shin pads. Ugh.
I called his phone at 10:00, hoping that he would not pick-up. If he did pick-up, it meant that he was not feeling well at all. He didn't pick-up.
10:30am another call from Joe: "Hi, I am 117 and it is snack time."
Me: "Eat the Go Lean for free...have fun! ... oh and sorry about the shin pads."
Him: Mumbling and grumbling about the heat.
A day-in-the-life of taking diabetes, but not shin pads, to soccer camp.