We were sitting just around the corner from the candy counter waiting for my wife and son to finish school shopping.
“Can you get me something?”
“No.”
“But Dad, I’m starving.”
“No you’re not, we just ate.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“No you’re not.”
“Check my blood sugar then.” she said, holding her index finger out to me, convinced that she’d be low and get a treat from around the corner.
I pull out my meter and a test strip, rotate my MultiClix around for a new lancet, then spend at least five minutes waiting for her to muster up the courage to submit to a finger stick. We talk about whether it will hurt or not. She switches fingers a bunch of times, and finally settles on her thumb.
First she wants to push the button, then she wants me to do it, then her, then me. Back and forth more times than I can remember. It doesn’t matter to me, though I am curious about her blood sugar. She’s playing games hoping for a treat.
The poke hurt her even at the lowest setting. That distracted her for a while, as she inspected the hole and seemed fascinated by squeezing blood out of her thumb.
133 mg/dl (give or take 20%), 25 minutes after eating and without washing her hands.
She was lost inspecting her wound and swore she had a permanent bruise. I went back to writing.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Did it say I was hungry?”
