He might have had the shortest Honeymoon Period ever - all two days of it. He then caught a cold and his blood glucose levels shot up, and we seemed to always be a day or two behind figuring out what was going on.
I am happy to report, though, that we seem to have reached equilibrium with his insulin needs and for the first time since his diagnosis, his levels are where they should be. As the Kids in the Hall zombie sketch punchline goes, "Yes, but for how long?" One growth spurt or virus will send it off kilter. Perhaps this disease teaches us, more than anything, to learn to roll with the wee punches.
I have lately revisited that funny habit that all mothers of newborns have and taken to waking him right before I go to sleep to make sure that he is still alive and not unconscious. Usually this means just smooching on him and tickling him until he rolls over in disinterest or starts to laugh.
I have started to take part in the 3:00 am glucose readings. Rare is the night that the parent who stays in bed stays asleep. The reading is like a magic number and there is intense curiosity surrounding what it could be.
Newest nickname for the boy: Comb-over Larry. He so looks like a very small middle aged man, potbelly, thinning hair, saggy bummed trousers and all.
Wyatt is the owner of a pair of bitchin' Rossignol downhill skis and Nordica boots thanks to the Griffiths, one of the other laissez-faire, liberal, parents in town.
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