Photo by Cyndi FreemanThe bulky, clanking, clamoring dog vomit doused carrier was hogging up the passenger seat. We had to go get Oscar from the groomer right after I picked the kids up from school yesterday.
So...
The dog carrier was hogging up the front seat of the van and therefore Joe's backpack which houses Woodchuck ... Woodchuck that stores the glucometer... Woodchuck that contains the sugar... Joe's back backpack with Woodchuck is in the seat behind me, as we pull away from Joe's school and head over to retrieve Bridget from her school. I am driving. Mumford and Son's, The Cave is blaring in the background. Joe and I exchange a few words, pleasantries.
Then the ...
"I am low statement" comes... but not in the usual up in octave, down in octave tone that we all know... it was more like a "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM I FEEEEEEEL Looooow!" It started powerful (up in octave) then the intensity and octaves fell off.
At first I was just gonna pelt some sugar at Joe and not check a blood glucose because Woodchuck was buried under a snack bag and a lunch bag in the backpack that was positioned behind my seat. The sugar-chucking idea seemed more sound than trying to get to the glucometer. I have sugar stashed in my purse, it is in the glove compartments of both family vehicles.
Did I mention the dog carrier?
Well, due to the gargantuan carrier, I cannot open the glove compartment. The purse? I don't know where it was at that point...under the carrier? In the back with the backpack? Who knew? What I did know was that I was driving in after school pick-up traffic twisted like a pretzel with one hand on the wheel, half an eye on the road, while I was grabbing the backpack from the back seat. Some how I managed to maneuver lights and traffic while unzipping the backpack and rifling through the backpack to obtain the coveted Woodchuck.
Joe then chimed in grumpily with an "I have to pee".
Well, ***. Maybe he is high.
Still one handed... maybe some "knee-driving" was thrown in here... I unzipped the glucometer case and loaded a strip. I then tossed back the glucometer and lancer to Joe. Joe reported back with a "Mom, I am 38". ***. A dicey right hand turn was then maneuvered one handed as I scrambled for a sugar source. I grabbed a Juicy Juice as I was heading up a steep, narrow hill...still "one-handing" the steering wheel. My hands, both now on the wheel, were working on accessing the juice with the use of a digit here and there and with the juice sandwiched between both hands and stabilized by the steering column. My teeth were used to rip the wrapper off the straw. The juice was spiked and ready for delivery. I str-e-t-ch and re-a-ch and str--e-t-ch some more during the front-to-back-seat-juice-hand-off to Joe.
Juice was slurped.
Now onto the pee issue...
We pulled into Bridget's school. We parked. Joe had to pee bad, but he was unable to run. His low was so severe that his legs felt like they were stuck in a sludge-y, cement-y mud. He refused my offer to carry him. So, we slowly made our way through the line of cars in front of Bridget's school. We made our way through the student's waiting for pick-up. We made our way into the school to the "facilities". Joe headed into the bathroom. Bridget and I waited. We waited some more. It seemed like we were waiting for awhile.
Then the worry ensued.
Thoughts like "I just let my low ... my 38 low son go into a bathroom alone. He is in a single-room-bathroom where he has locked the door. What if he passes out in there? Is he OK? Damn I am an idiot." Then the flushing was heard. The door rattled as the latch was undone and out came a pale, limpy, low Joe.
Once we were back in the car, an "I feeeeeeeeeeeellllllll teeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrible" is cried from Joe's lips. Then a loud "I am dropping!" This was a bad one. I chucked another couple of glucose tabs at him and we were on our way to get Oscar.
A day-in-the-life of never escaping "D".
For more of our day-in-the-life visit: http://betabuddies.blogspot.com/