Two am.

Grumble.

The alarm goes off.  My response:  Grumble, grumble.

My arm snakes out from underneath the warm down comforter.  Siah sneezes beside me, where she has taken up residence on Chris’s pillow.  I grab my kit.  Unzip it.  Fumble with the strip, trying to use the sliver of moonlight as my guide.  Prick finger.  Stick finger in my mouth.  Wait for result.  170 mg/dl.  Okay.  

Text Chris – “2:30 am – 170 mg/dl.”

With Chris away for the next week, he’s asked me to promise to do 2 am glucose testings while he’s gone, so I’ll stay safe.

“I’ll be tired, though!”  The whine in my voice is almost unavoidable.  Two am?  Every night?  Oh man…

“I know, but please just do it anyway?  You can go right back to sleep afterwards.”Grumble grumble.  But he’s right.

Last night was the first in this string of midnight vampirism.  I’m not anticipating any problems while he’s gone, but I am sleeping with the phone and a bottle of juice by the bed.  My mom expects a phone call by 8:30 every morning so she knows I’m alive and well at work.  I also had a brief discussion with Abby (yes, the cat) about waking me up if I seem sweaty.  She confirmed the arrangement by licking my knuckle.  

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