numbers flash before my eyes
digital signal from a drop of red
correction, new message
delivered back to the source
all of this on autopilot, my mind
elsewhere, but right here
poke her, prod her
in the unfaltering trust of her slumbers
bringing unease at the thought
of yet another vulnerability
Hold a child’s trust in your hand, and you will know what it’s like to be a parent.
But you cannot always be a guardian. You can only hope that such faith will always be well placed. Such are my thoughts at 2 am, during a mid-night reading.
My daughter was diagnosed with type-1 diabetes when she was eight years old, and this was written in 2004, when she was ten. I would check on her when I got home from work after midnight. That would mean a finger stick to test her blood glucose level – the reading visible on the test meter – followed by settings on her insulin pump if her level was low (which would happen while she slept).
She is now 25, and very fit. In her desire to stay updated on her levels without constant finger sticks, she now has a continuous glucose monitor (CGM), which stays in her side with a tiny insertion and sends a reading to her phone app. It does just what the name says. I’m proud of her determination and the fact that she serves as an excellent role model as a school counselor.
I have a few poems written about our experience here.
This poem was brought to mind when I read Insulated, by Iain Kelly.
Image source: nih.gov