Sometimes my daughter will treat a low at school and I'll find out later when the nurse has a moment to call. Other times, particularly when she's really feeling the low, I'll get a call right away.
The phone rang the other afternoon.
"I'm... 59," the voice at the other end of the line said.
There was a brief pause. "I'm...I'm drinking juice." Slurp.
"Good. What were you at lunch?"
"I..I...don't know. Should I...go... back to class?"
"Um...no. I think you should sit with the nurse and check again in 10 minutes."
"O.k. Yeah. I will."
I'm certain the nurse would have kept her there anyway, and that the phone call was mostly to hear my voice.
What was unsettling was to hear her voice. It was quiet, hesitant, scared. Her thoughts came slowly, foggily. It made me want to get in the car, drive over there, and hug her tight.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. "Hi! I'm up to 79. Should I do anything else?" The confident, happy, energetic, clear thinking kid was back.
"Chew a glucose tab just to be sure and check again between periods."
"Love you. Bye!"
And she was off.