Yeah, that's a new one.

He nudged me pretty hard.

"Please?" He asks.

"umhum," I hum almost inaudibly.

He has been doing most of the nighttime checks lately and I've been encouraging him to wake me to help out.

I would do them...I just don't wake up for the alarm anymore. Alarm fatigue. I suppose, after so many years my body decided it wasn't going to put up with it anymore. My husband sets the alarm to a local music station and has it turned ALL the way up. The music BLARES, like scare the crap out of you blares, and I don't even budge.

Hence the nudging.

I skirted out of bed catching myself from buckling under my exhaustedness and made my way slowly to the blood sugar station with my arms slightly lifted and my hands flat to the ground for balance. I got the meter ready, grabbed a vial of strips and headed into the boys room...

"Why am I walking with one eye closed?" I think to myself, "you won't be blinded if you open the other one, Meri."

So I do, and my eyes adjust.

The soft beam of light filters into the boys' room and allows me just enough illumination to find B's finger and poke.

82.

"Crap."

As I move a couple feet to my right to make sure I'm reading the meter correctly I see B out the corner of my eye turn his pump light on.

"Oh great, I woke him...poor guy is probably seeing what time it is."

And then he mumbles something to himself and I see more clearly what is happening...

HE IS BOLUSING.

SLEEP BOLUSING???

What the what???!!!!

He was entering a blood sugar number and was at 327 by the time I stopped him.

I sat on the edge of his bed panicking on the inside and slowly, calmly rubbing his hair on the outside.

My mind raced. What if? What if I didn't catch it.

I waited a good 5 minutes to make sure he was back in a deep sleep and slipped his pump back into his Spibelt and zipped it tight.

L: 198

J: 157

I return to B's bedside to give him some juice and then watch him for awhile. He was so still...so peaceful. Will he try again? Should I lock his pump? No. No, he will be ok. I pat myself on the back for making the decision not to crawl into bed with him and make my way back to my room.

More often than not with this disease we have to take that leap of faith that everything is just going to be ok.

Regardless though, you gotta give diabetes props...it can throw a mean curveball.