For days, the numbers fall into the “good” range. Then they escalate, every check resulting in over 200, over 300, over 400. Because he’s growing so fast? Because we need to adjust the carb ratio? Because we need to increase his Lantus (his daily, slow-acting insulin unrelated to what he eats)? The doctor suggests changes. We try them. Some work. Some work, then don’t. Some work when he exercises (track and baseball season). Sometimes exercise sends him low. Because of the changes, we have to check him at 2 a.m. to make sure he hasn’t gone low while we’re all sleeping. The alarm jars me out of sleep. I turn on the hall light, trudge upstairs, fingers crossed. Last night, at 10:30 p.m., I popped the lancet device into his ring finger. Blood billowed out.

60.

That’s not good. A dose of juice and 15 minutes later, I poked his middle finger, which did not bleed so easily. I squeezed his finger, still smaller than mine, attempting to draw forth a drop instead of just a speck. Not enough – the glucose meter showed an “Error” message. Once again with the stabbing and bleeding. Another “Error” message. Again I had to inflict pain, watch Nick flinch in his sleep, press hard to force the blood forth.

53.

Really not good – treated with sugar and then a lower result? Glucose tablets and I stretched out on his floor to wait. The kitten joined me. The dog joined me. My body formed a letter “L” as I twisted to ease my back only to have the animals trap me between them. The kitten opted to knead my shoulder, tiny claws poking through my thermal. Finally time to check again.

87.

OK. Back downstairs for something substantial. An apple, cut into slices. Back upstairs to wake Nick enough to eat. He managed to consume the slices without fully rousing, which was some consolation for all the disturbance he suffers.

2 a.m. Alarm goes off. I tip-toe upstairs.

240.

Great. Now what?

And so it goes.

I hope, hope, hope the insulin pump helps keep him on a more even keel. Manufacture rep coming on Sunday, Nick to SF next week. We should be good after that. Or at least, better.