My life is ruled by numbers. My son’s blood glucose levels. I am well trained in waiting to ask him how they are when I first see him when he comes in from school. I exercise remarkable restraint but it’s not easy. He tells me about his day. We talk about what’s going on or we don’t speak at all.
Sneakily I grab his meter the minute he goes to the toilet, carefully putting it back in exactly the spot he left it. He knows how to carb count and he does his own injections. Not something you ever expect to see your own child do.
I look for patterns. Is there a trend developing here or there? Is today just a blip caused by lots of sport/assessment task or who knows what? Numbers that scared me last year have become more common in the thick of the teenage years.
I quiz myself: high numbers = Possibly needs more insulin, low number = hypo = sugar. As simple as it sounds, it took a long time for these simple facts to sink in. There is nothing that makes me happier than the number 7.
We ‘decided’ some time back that he would write his levels down every day but has a Wednesday off. It feels really tough making him do this but I feel obliged to get good habits in place whilst I can. He will choose his way when the time comes but for now he knows that if he doesn’t, he risks losing his best friend, the iPhone, for the day. Not something we’ve had to do yet but his 395 facebook friends need to know what he’s up to so best he writes those numbers down!
I hate these numbers and the power they hold over us but I love my boy and we soldier on together.