T’was the night before Labor Day
when I decided to change my lancet
How long had it been…
Hmmm, maybe since last I was in transit?
My used syringes cooed all snug in their drawer
Smug were they feeling and absolutely sure
that I wouldn’t come looking to change them too
for they knew my outer thighs had to first turn black and blue
I fumbled around mostly in my brain
Where in heck are those needles I’d seen when last it rained?
Surely I had some, maybe on this shelf maybe that?
Think, you must think, but only gobbledegook was coming back!
My husband approached while I searched, and then forgot
just what I was looking for -b-boom, b-boom – ever-quicker beat my heart!
Then the sweat started pouring down my face onto my chin
My husband panicked yelled, “Forget needles, you need sugar. I’ll bring!”
“No, I need a needle I insisted to thread my lancet
Who needs sugar? Hey, honey, you look so handsome!”
A moment later a jar of honey and a giant spoon
reached up to my mouth, likely not a moment too soon
I hate to admit it, when I fall down on the job
Sixty-one I’ll be tomorrow and still it’s just so hard
Because every day is different and we can only ever guess
How many carbs? Too much insulin? One minute “nailed it!” the next distressed
It’s the nature of the this life to be thankful and frustrated
Another crises over, those pesky lancets finally located
Hmmm…I wonder when this vial of insulin needs to be replaced
A week, maybe three, oh, my, could it actually be today?