Sunday, November 8, 2015

Normally Atypical

As he clambered through the front door, a brisk and soft spoken 'I feel low' swiftly left his lips.  He was 68.  It was dark.  It was an early evening hour.

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.

No answer.

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.

1 comment:

Katy said...

Sometimes in these situations, I imagine myself being cross-examined in court. (The charge is murder.) BUT YOU COULD HAVE GONE OUT TO FIND HIM, could you not? (Yes.) AND YOUCOULD SEE HE HAD NO SUPPLIES, NO WAY OF KNOWING HIS OWN BLOOD GLUCOSE, IS THAT RIGHT? (Yes.) AND YOU WERE AWARE OF THE DANGERS IF HYPOGLYCEMIA, WERE YOU NOT? (Yes.) AND YOU STATED HE WAS LIKELY TO HAVE BEEN PHYSICALLY ACTIVE...Etc. but after the day-mare, I wind up still thinking someone would give him juice or whatever...