I’ve read five-hundred-and-eighteen (of seven-hundred-and-fifty-nine) pages of the new Harry Potter out loud over the past three days. This has been about 13 hours of reading total so far. We’ve read all the Harry Potters out loud and I refuse to break with tradition. The pressure’s on, though – thankfully, the winds turned north so I’m not having to choose between reading and surfing at the moment.
Nick’s blood sugar continues to run high: 204, 268, 245, 302. Numbers like that. I’ve consulted with the UCSF doctors about insulin increase. I worry. I refill his prescriptions and know that nothing we could do would save him if we were somehow cut off, whether through political collapse or natural disaster. I repeat myself. Am I paranoid? It doesn’t feel like paranoia when your child’s lifeline is such a slim one. You know how when your children are babies, how you keep checking on them when they’re sleeping, making sure they’re still breathing? I do that with Nick again in the mornings. Sometimes I give him a little poke, just to make sure he hasn’t slipped into a coma or insulin shock while we were in our own bed, oblivious.
I never tell him that. To him, I say we’ll take care of you. We’ll help you take care of yourself. So much work is being done on diabetes. We’re lucky we have all these tools and research and great doctors. It will be OK.
It will be OK. I have to believe that.