Off He Goes

He leaves today for Myrtle Beach, SC and four days of golf. He's joining the annual golf trip of a fellow cub scout dad, a real nice guy, someone with whom he's golfed locally just once.

He won't know any of the other folks in the group and will, in fact, be sharing a room with a stranger.

Early morning tee times will mess with his schedule, his routine. In all likelihood, they will mess with his blood sugar.

The signs of his reactions are so subtle... how will these strangers catch them? How will they tell the difference between quiet concentration and the enveloping cloud that is hypoglycemia?

I debated calling Dale and giving him a heads-up on what low means, and what to do. I may still.

Last night we went over what he'll carry in his golf bag (fruit snacks and skittles) and when he'll test (before, during, after and later in the day). I made sure that my number is obvious in his cell phone, even though I'll be hours away.

It will be fine, no doubt. He's managed his diabetes with remarkable success for 38 years - the man knows what he's doing. But it will be on my mind for the next few days, for sure.