Labor Day means changing my lancet

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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?

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