OK, so you're not but I'll tell you anyway.
Frank woke me at 5:30 this morning. Much earlier than normal but he seemed fine.
We had breakfast and packed the camper van for our trip to see my parents.
En route to my home town of Haverhill in Suffolk to visit the ageing paroids (like parents but also not quite human as we know it , hence the android tag-on) I glanced in the mirror to see Frank's normally rosy and healthy face turn a rather alarming shade of green.
"Are you OK, Franky?"
Frank stares at me blankly, looking rather spaced out.
"Are you wobbly?"
He shakes his head.
"Are you hungry?"
He shakes it again.
We drive through Chappel and under the beautiful viaduct and I am glancing back in the mirror a lot rather than watching the road.
He turns greener.
"Shall I stop the van, Frank?"
Suddenly a Jack Russell terrier runs out into the road and I very narrowly miss ironing it with the front wheels of the van.
Into Earl's Colne and I pull over at the Primary School that I know quite well.
Quiet road not much traffic.
I climb into the back of the van.
Frank looks very pale and green, green, green.
We decide to head home as my Mum only came out of hospital yesterday and we don't want to give her anything to make her turn green as well.
Almost home, just a mile to go, and Frank coughs and follows this up with (rather spectacular, I must say) throwing up all over himself, his colouring books, his new Spud the Scarecrow toy (it's a Bob the Builder thang) and a great part of the van.
Jackson Pollock could not have done a better job.
Oh, joy ...
I clean him up and we get home to put him on the sofa , where his colour returns and he sleeps.
In an hour he moves from 14.9 to 3.1.
Juice and a biscuit.
Cuddle and more sleep.
He smiles at me sleepily.
I am his Mama and feel like a bear with her cub.
This is where I belong.
This time last year on my birthday weekend I was in hospital with Frank as he had gastroenteritis. Vomiting and Type 1 don't make happy bed fellows (I love that phrase, so 1950s and camp!).
Today as I contemplate another trip to the Children's Ward I realise I am much less fazed by the idea. I have come a long way in my understanding of this condition and what is needed to keep Frank from harm.
I am more confident in dealing with it at home without rushing him to hospital.
As we were released from hospital almost 18 months ago now after his diagnosis one of the fantastic, humane and humorous nurses told me that in one year I would be more of an expert than she was. Especially in relation to Frank's diabetes and his body.
I realise the wisdom and truth of her comment today.
Andrew and I are the experts in our son's care.
And so I end today's post tired but content and send all my best wishes to parents of children with Type 1 Diabetes, that uninvited guest that just won't go home, but especially those newly diagnosed.
You will find strength in yourselves that you never knew you had.
What you are dealing with is non-negotiable.
You have to be there and deal with it BUT you are not alone.
Take care of yourselves and take it a day at a time.
Find joy wherever you can.
My love to you all.