We went and saw Tristan (insert flamboyant, lovely, sweet and kind man here - oh, and if you are into that sort of thing- handsome as in a hippie dreadlocked way) off tonight.
Wyatt had a low because I didn't factor his being with his favorite woman in the whole wide world (5 year old Estreya) before giving him his dose of insulin. I dosed correctly for the food, but the adrenaline drove his blood sugars way, way down. Matt and I saw for the first time what a diabetic "low" looks like. It's not pretty. Imagine your three year old stumbling around a restaurant parking lot and drinking juice out of a juice box like it was mana/ambrosia/cold clear water dripping from the sky.
He is fine now. Thank God for juice boxes in cars.
Tristan and his girlfriend, Carrie, were lovely additions to town. I will miss them.
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