Least.  Favorite.  Day.  Of.  The.  Week.  Why you ask?  Let me share some stories and some photos.  You will understand.  Immediately.   Seriously.

The adventure started even on the way to dance.  I could tell the girl was running too high.  So I pawed, and the girl checked.  And sure enough, she was  out of range.  A BG of 245.  The insulin pump calculated that a correction of insulin was needed.  So the mom went ahead an gave it to her.  All I could think was NOOOO….This is when I wish I could verbalize better that she was 245, but on the way down already.   More insulin will just drop her too fast and too much.  ARGH….game on Darwin, game on.  I knew it was going to be a long dance class….I just didn’t realize how horrific it would be.  For other reasons.  Horrific reasons.

So, here I am.  Waiting patiently with the mom, while the girl tap danced her little heart out.  No problem.  I can handle this.  I can alert from a distance.  It’s not THAT loud from the other room.   But then Teacher Pam said it was time to try on the recital costumes.  Costumes?  I hate costumes.  I knew this was not going to be good.  

The mom and I had to go into the dance studio to help the girl get changed into her costume.    Ok,  as usual, the girl decided I couldn’t be left out of the “fun”.  I wish she didn’t care so much.   And even though I have a red collar, no I do not need a red bow.  Ever.  I do not feel left out.   Really.  Leave me be…please.  

But then I started to realize a red bow would be great.  

The girl needs help.  And less personality.  Please.  

No, I do not need your hat.  Nor do I want your hat.  Give me the red bow.  That’s fine.  I’ll take the bow over the hat.  Now.  Please.  I promise I won’t complain about the bow anymore.  Whatever, I will still complain, but maybe a bit less.   ARGH.

Don’t these eyes just say “Help me.  Help me now”?   The mom did not understand.   Or maybe she understood, but she didn’t intervene.  Come on!

Just make it stop.   Jazz hands.  Stop hands.  Please.  Stop.  

Ok.  So now that you’re laughing.  At me.  Which isn’t nice.  Let’s talk about something serious.  After being subjected to all these shenanigans, I alerted the mom that there was a BG issue.  She checked as the girl was coming out of dance class….and the girl was then 75!  Yes, that’s right.  A drop from 245 to 75 in one hour.   That’s no joke.  It’s a good thing I’m willing to put up with the craziness and continue to do my job.  That is work ethic.  That is dedication.  That is love.  Whatever.  Yes, love.

A haiku for the situation:
Dance dance glucose tabs
Another good alert saves
The mom owes me big.