The Search

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Three O’Clock wake up.

Scratchy, dry, ragged thirst.

Aching, tingling, toes are lit up tonight.

Thanks to a High.

No CGM beeps. No. Just natural alarm.

The Search begins.

Stumbling at first, then dark veil is brushed away.

Poke in the finger, redness rushes out

Not to relieve the thirst, but to paint a test strip

It screams at me: 499. I scream inside.

No balance. No rhyme. Just random.

Correction comes for 14.

The Search goes on.

This time, for water. Oh, the potential.

To wash away this sand in my throat.

Smooth. Silky. Ice cubes swimming, floating

Within crystal clear waters

Waiting to flow freely, coating the inside

Like the blood coats the now-used strip

Easing the desert dryness

Until it’s no more. An oasis of moisture.

Pure Ecstasy. At least for a moment.

Momentary soothing of a late-night High.

Until the insulin kicks in, flushing the sugar out.

Another day begins.

After 26 years, each day is much the same.

Some Highs. Some Lows. Water and Sugar.

And Everything in Between.

So the Search goes on.

For Balance.

In the World of Diabetes.