Stick a fork in me

Sometimes I just want to be done with this diabetes thing.

Like when the alarm goes off at 6am. Every day. No matter what.

Or when I’m almost out of insulin and wondering if there’s enough left to get to the next credit card billing cycle before having to spend the hundred and fifty bucks for more.

Or when the meter reads 350.

Or when Isabella wakes up in the middle of the night and scratches the dresser.

Or when I prick her ear and her head shake flings blood all over the walls.

Or when I have to leave a party early to give her a shot.

Or when I have to factor the expense of a pet sitter into the cost of a vacation.

Or when I look at the spreadsheet of blood sugar readings and realize that I’m getting nowhere.

Or when I have to buy test strips. With no insurance.

Or, when the cats turn their pink little noses up at whatever food I’ve served.

Sometimes I just feel so done. But I’ll never quit, not as long as Isabella needs the juice.