Tonight, while getting a drink of water from the kitchen tap, I caught an odd, sweet, distinctive smell. For a moment I tried to place it, then it was obvious: insulin. Sam's been running in the 300s with his blood glucose all day, so Howard changed his reservior tonight in case there were bubbles in the tubing that were keeping the insulin from getting into the boy.
It's a smell that, when it catches me off guard like this, makes me so sad. Not weeping sad--nothing that dramatic. Just a hollow kind of sadness that Sam has to deal with this crap every day of his life. It was four years last Saturday. Mostly I am grateful every day for insulin, because my son is healthy and funny and vibrant. But today, taking me by surprise, it made me blue.