A few days ago...
The water mushroom and the blaring music were a concern.
I lounged on my chair by the pool. The cell phone was poised on the arm of the chair. My eyes scanned it regularly for any sign of a call, a message, a notification. I was with Bridget and her friend. Joe was at his friend Adie's house. The phone is a constant companion during Joe's absence. I have trust and faith in Joe and in Nikki, Adie's mother. They may need me though.
The green notification light started blinking.
My right hand refreshed the phone. Damn. I missed the call. It was them.
I call them. The peripheral background noise makes the call difficult to interpret. Nikki let's me know that Joe was 63. I think that is what she said. I repeat into the phone staccato-like "six" "three". She confirmed. Something about sugar or Starbursts was mentioned. I ask in a loud cave-woman-y voice "He.took.sugar!?" Again, at least I can hear the "yes" that is delivered in response. Nikki goes onto say something about Joe wanting a snack and he was mumbling something at her like "combo bolus". Well.... Ok then. This isn't on my Play Date Cheat Sheet.
Joe gets on the phone.
The lisp-y, the nasal-y, and the soft spoken-y really isn't working for me here. The noise of the water 'shroom splashing and the Pop Rock spewing from the speakers is too much. I heard "snack" and "combo". I interpreted the issue as "Joe, are you wanting to eat now? ... are you calling because you don't want to wait the 15 minutes to recheck your blood sugar? ... and you want to do a combo bolus to cover the snack?"
I heard a "yes", with the emphasis on the slightly drawn out "s" that we all know and love in the lisp.
I tell him to do a 0%:100% extended over 30 minutes (this is NOT intended as medical advice). I tell him not to enter in his BG, assuming he will correct with the 12 grams of carbs he just consumed for the low. I can pick out an "OK" from his end. Then, abruptly, the call is ended. He hung up, ready to man his pump with the instruction given I assume.
Bridget comes at me from the snack bar. She is shaking two Tootsie Pops like they are maracas to the beat of the music with confidence and sass. I continue to scan my phone.
A text came in... "Don't worry... we r all good!"
I responded with ..."I know he is in good hands!"
A couple of hours later, when Joe is back with me, he checks his number. A 108 graces the glucometer screen.
A day-in-the-life of critical thinking as he expands his independence.
Click here for my original post on "Play Dates".