Mom: (brings in a bag full of lancets, alcohol wipes, glucose reader, and other fun things)  Are you going to let me prick your finger?

Me:  Uh…not so much.  I got it, thanks.   (Pricks finger.  Puts test strip in the monitor and dabs blood on per instructions.  Nothing. )

Mom:  Uh…I think the monitor is off.  (Looks up what to do next in the instructions)

Me:  Wait.  Does this mean I have to re-prick my finger again?

Mom:  Yeh!  Let’s.

Me: (slightly caught off guard by her enthusiasm)  My my, aren’t you all sadistic and ready to stab something in me today?

Mom:  (Giggles)  So, can I do it?

Me:  No.  Look, my finger is still bleeding, we’ll do it this way.

Mom:  (Grabs my finger and squeezes tightly, making more blood bubble up)

Me: Oy.  You think that’s necessary?  I really need un-bruised fingers.

Mom:  It worked.  157.  Wow, 175 is really high.

Me:  You just said 157.  Which is it?

Mom:  175.

Me:  Doesn’t that thing keep track of so many past tests?  How do we figure it out?

Mom:  We should just test again.  Can I prick your finger this time?

My mother and her obsession with finger pricking lancets, and my husband and his obsession with giving IVs should partner-up with someone who specializes in LOBOTOMIES, so they might actually get a patient or two.

I’m hiding all of the sharp objects in our house, who knows who’ll want to stab something in me next?

Welcome back!