The circling starts, most often, at bedtime. Before dinner (what you call lunch), when I’m not sure if the feeling I’m feeling is a low, and I can’t find it. The hunt is on.
I have two meters. One always snuggles into the tuck and folds of my purse- my work meter. The other lives here, in the house. So I am never short a meter. Never wondering what my sugars really are.
The circling starts the last place I remember taking a blood test. It was in the kitchen after a low that morning. Too much cleaning that AM. Nope, the counter is clear. Maybe the bathroom counter. Nope. The sofa in the living room where I watched “The Big Bang Theory” rerun. Nope. Ree-Ree’s room, the pocket of my work coat, under the bed, the washing machine (not inside it either), the diaper bag, the container holding the dog food.
Seriously, where is it! Usually I make the rounds in the dark, turning on lamps rather than lights, trying not to wake Ree-Ree as I cross the hallway’s squeaky section of the floor directly next to her crib, avoiding the sleepy, cross look “what are you doing?” Newt flashes my way when the rays fall over his pillow.
Ahhh! There is it! The black case sits in plain site where I left it on the arm of the overstuffed chair in the living room. I wander into the kitchen, followed by Ree-Ree, my 18 month apprentice who not only get out my poker but graduated to also removing the strip when the test is complete. The hunt is over. For a couple hours, until I need a blood test. And start looking for the meter on the arm of the chair…