Check! Get up and check your blood glucose.
But I’m so comfy here under the covers.
But I was low! I was at 72 last time I checked.
Yes, but that was 2 hours ago, and you ate all that chocolate. You think that stuff ‘s just gonna ‘absorb’?
Six chocolate kisses and a Kitkat is NOT a nibble. Get up and check! You can’t sleep now anyway.
Blast it. I’m going… 188! Happy now?
Yeah, we caught it. Aggressive corrective dose. There. Good girl.
Uh-huh, put all the crap away, and ooh, ice-cold feet now. Damn you.
OK, back to bed — ahhh.
You still up?
How do we know it wasn’t too much insulin? What if we go too low? Does he really know what to do?
Ah geez. Bugger off, I said.
We should check.
Get up and check! You can’t sleep now anyway…
(Editor’s note: Apologies to the actual schizophrenia community. Condolences to the other home-alone- in-the-office telecommuter types like me who actually say this kind of stuff out loud.)