|Type 1 Looks Like Us|
A few days ago..
An hour or so before the above mentioned clambering..
I entered the house after a run.
In the mudroom, I removed my shoes. My eyes glanced to the shoe tray and then to the shoe bin. His sneakers were nowhere to be seen.
I then look to the kitchen. His glucometer, sugar, and Dexcom were scattered across the island counter.
I yelled out a 'Joe' to make sure.
He was gone. I was pretty sure he was a couple of streets over, at his friend's house. He was most likely playing a competitive, physical game, outdoors.
I pushed it, him being gone without his supplies, out of my mind.
I sliced squash for roasting. I emptied the dishwasher. I puttered; waiting.
Finally, I could ignore it no longer...
I took a peek at the Dexcom. The last bleep on the screen was 30 minutes prior. He was 150.
In the past, I would have driven around the neighborhood in search of him. I would have taken him his diabetes supplies. I let it go on this day; wanting him to feel a bit more typical; wanting to feel a bit more normal myself.
A normal, atypical day-in-the-life.