"Mom! I am 85! Can I eat?"
I glance at the clock and read 5:50 p.m.. Dinner is a mere ten minutes away estimated finishing. Tonight we are having pasta and sauce with a side salad. It is a simple dinner and all I need is for the pasta to finish cooking.
I holler back. "You're fine! Dinner is almost done."
"But I am lowwwwwwww! And I am hungrrrrrrrry!" She yells again.
Feeling impatient, I tell her to wait as I am draining the water off the pasta. The steam is filling my eyeglasses and I am having trouble concentrating on not getting burned and talking to an impatient child at that the same time.
"Just wait!" I say with the same impatient tone that is also in my head.
The hot water jumps up and bites me squarely on the knuckles, making me whimper.
Suddenly, a sound cuts through the noise and pain and I can hear a can of glucose tabs being opened. The bottle is new and the plastic wrap is making a tell-tale crinkle noise.
I drop the rest of the pasta into a bowl so that I can figure out where the sound is coming from. Walking past the bathroom, I see the same hungry daughter that I had just asked to wait, eating glucose tabs.
"I am low and I know it said 85, but it feels lower. I need something now!" She says defiantly.
As if on cue, Sigums (our CGM) bleeps a warning... 67 mg/dl and pointing down.
Shaking my head at the situation, all I can do is tell her that I am sorry and that I didn't realize that her blood sugar was dropping so quickly. We sit quietly until the low feeling has passed and then, I hug her and apologize again.
Later that night, I tell the Naturally Sweet dad the story and he in turn, gives me a hug and tells me it is going to be alright.
And while I know it really is alright and we are fine, I can't help but once again feel a deep ache for what type 1 diabetes continually delivers to us.
Some days are just so hard.