Trash Talk

This afternoon, we experienced another aspect of diabetes.

We were at Jack's baseball practice, and Jack had just run from first base to second. Jack paused at second base and then ran toward the dugout, where I was sitting.

Then, all of a sudden, an argument began.

"Jack, you're a cheater!" his teammate yelled.

"I am NOT a cheater!" he yelled back, still running toward me.

"You are! You're not supposed to just run to third base like that! You're a cheater!"

"I'm NOT a cheater! I'm not running to third base! I know how to play the game! I feel low!"

By the time he reached me, Jack not only felt low, but frustrated and hurt, too.

Damn diabetes! I hate how it puts Jack in positions like this. I hate how it affects others' perceptions of him.

I tested his blood sugar, and he was indeed low at 53.

It was hard for me to sit back and simply treat his low. I wanted to march out onto the field and give that kid a piece of my mind. But I know that kid. He's a really good kid. He knows all about Jack's diabetes, but he obviously didn't put two and two together today. So I stayed put and kept quiet.

Jack guzzled a bottle of juice and then ran back out onto the field. He didn't want to take it easy. He wanted to keep playing. Even more, he wanted to clear his reputation.

He ran right over to the boy, who'd called him a cheater, and explained why he left the field.

He continued to play for roughly another fifteen minutes, before visiting me again for another blood sugar check. He was at 70 and needed more carbs.

No one yelled, criticized or called him a nasty name when he left the field the second time. That was a good thing, because at that point, I would have marched out there and given the team the ol' D talk...nicely, of course. But, a D mom's gotta do what a D mom's gotta do!