Scene: 11:50 am, Car, driving to the movie theater.
Players: Three boys and a frazzled mother. (Son #4 chose to sit this movie out.)
Son #1: "What’s for lunch?"
Mom: “Hello! Popcorn! What else do you eat at a movie??”
Son #2: “Popcorn isn’t lunch mom.”
Mom: “Hold it son! If chocolate rabbits are ok for breakfast, popcorn is ok for lunch, I’m calling this one.”
Son #3: “Can we at least get hot dogs at the theater?”
Mom: “Oh sure, I’ll just take $50.00 out of your savings account and that should cover it.”
Son #1: “Nice try mom, we know you are kidding.”
Mom: “A mom’s gotta try…”
Scene: Waiting in line for tickets, Mom is horrified as she glances at Son #3, also known as B.
Mom: “What the heck happened B! Your pump tubing is flapping in the wind…when did it get ripped out of your pump??”
Son #3: “Seriously Mom, if I knew, I would have told you.”
Mom: “UHG! I’ll MacGyver it…We’ll work it out.”
Son #2: “What is MacGyver?”
Mom: “Not what…who. He is a really smart man…almost as smart at me.”
Scene: Sitting inside the theater, waiting for the movie to start. Boys balancing popcorn on their knees, hands full of hot dogs and napkins.
Mom: “J, bolus for the food, and when it is done, give me your pump, I’ll hook up B and give him insulin through the prime so it doesn’t show up on your IOB. B, hand me your pump, I’ll put in your carb and BG amounts so I’ll know how much to give you through J’s pump.”
(Scary thin balding Man sitting in front turns his head, intrigued at the medical/spy-like jargon.)
B, rifles through his pockets. He pauses. He rifles again. He stands, and thrusts his hands down every pocket his shorts have.
Son #3: “Huh, weird, I don’t have my pump, don’t worry, it’s probably at home.” (Nonchalantly sits down and continues to watch previews like it’s no big deal…)
Mom: (Paralyzed in fear…mind racing…’probably??? Probably???’) “How can you just not know where your pump is B? What do you mean probably? Did you take it out of your pocket? Where is it?!!”
Son #3: “I have no idea…it’s probably at home…don’t freak out mom.”
Mom: Freaking out. Pictures of a lone pump sitting on the sidewalk, with young punks walking by picking up the curious purple video game like contraption, flash through her head. $5000 gone. Just gone. “Does anyone have their cell phone? I left mine at home.” (Nope, not one boy has their cell phone.) “I’m going to the car…stay here! Don’t talk to strangers… (Discreetly pointing to scary bald guy in front of them,) Don’t go to the bathroom…I’ll be RIGHT back!”
Scene: In front of the theater. Mom barges through the theater doors, eyes blazing, hair flying, hands in front of her flat with fingers spread, using the spaces between her fingers as virtual magnifying glasses. Walking quickly, scanning, manic…all the way back to the car…looking in gutters, evil-eyeing the punks…ready to cry…opening the door…
It is there.
On the seat.
Probable victim of a seat belt.
(Big fat sigh of relief.)
Scene: Movie theater…again.
Pump has bolused son #2 and son #3 and now is back in son #2’s pocket.
Crisis averted, movie thoroughly enjoyed…
Just another Pancreatical day. (Pancreatic/hysterical=my new favorite word.)