La-bor-atory

My boys never wake up low.

Okay.  Never is a pretty final word.  Let's just say, lately...they rarely wake up low.

But this morning they woke up 55, 63 and 103.  Why?

Because the boys were getting their fasting labs done this morning, silly.  And nothing can be easy when it comes to diabetes.  I'm pretty sure that's a rule or something.

Anyway, they were low.  And understandably,  I was furious inside.  I was already 6 months behind getting them there.  I already forgot to bring them in every day of spring break last week.  This was my last chance to get it done without missing school.  Sure, technically Monday was an option too...but that is the day after Easter, and there was no way I was going to get labs done with pure chocolate running through their veins.

Wild eyed and panicked I say, "This is still happening!  Get dressed!"

I have the two boys with lows put in a temp. basal of zero for one hour.  Seriously, with the dawn phenomenon, and the way we stack insulin in the morning...there was no way they would drop more!

Right?

I told myself that anyway.  As we were walking out the door my 55 went up to 67.  So I was confident we could pull this off.

Except we show up to the lab and it seems the entire population of our town proper has shown up for their fasting labs this morning too.  I hear someone tell someone else the wait would be an hour and a half.  Outside I am completely calm and cool.  Inside, alarms are ringing all over the place...in my gut, in my swelly brain, in my heart.  But my stubborn soul is screaming inside, "This is still happening!"

So since there isn't one place to sit in the rather large waiting room, my boys sit in the hallway while I wait in the lengthy line.  After about forever, with only one other person in front of me in the registration line, my swelly brain spontaneously hatches a plan.

I signal for the boys to come wait in line with me.  You should see them...they look like death.  They are pale, and mad that we were there, and the littlest was practically in tears.

It was perfect.  I had a leg up on all these other ticked off people.  Sure everyone had pathetic faces, but my kids had cute pathetic faces.  This was going to work.

We walk up to the counter, and totally casual like I say, "Hi.  All my boys have type 1 diabetes.  Two of them have low blood sugars right now and need some juice to get up.  Can you check if they can have the juice now while we wait, or do the lab orders indicate that isn't ok."  (See.  I'm playing stupid.  I know the lab orders say they can't, but I know if I ask to skip ahead of everyone else, I would get the eye roll.)

The woman took one look at the boys faces and said, "Wait here."  She walked in the back and then returned with a lab technician.  "This is Marcy, she'll take you right now."

I didn't turn around.  I wouldn't turn around.  Because in an instant I could physically feel the gasps coming from the whole of the waiting room population.  We beat the system.  I didn't lie, they were low.  They couldn't wait an hour and a half, although we could have come back another day.

The boys took it all like champs.  I'm pretty sure this is the first time ever there were no tears.  Although I'm against growing up altogether, the boys growing up does have its perks. 

 

 

Urine tests weren't so successful.  L couldn't do it.  He couldn't go.  I give him an "A" for effort though.

All in all, we dodged a bullet and made it out alive.  Literally.

 

 

So obviously, I needed to reward the boys for valiantly sucking it up...

Donuts as big as their heads?

You betcha!