Finlay has his pump, I have my cellphone. It goes everywhere with me: my remote link to F. I can't imagine what parents of diabetic children did before cellphones.
Everyone I work with is used to the calls: "he's high", "he's low", "he's pulled his site out", "another kid pulled his site out".
And they understand that it doesn't get turned off, ever. Meetings, lunches, visiting dignitaries; if preschool calls it gets answered. At least I have a fairly unobtrusive conventional ringtone. It's not like I shatter the peace of the workplace with 8 bars of the latest hip hop hit, or tinny Beethoven, or some irritating 80s song that keeps going round in your head all day until you work out who sang the original.
I try not to be too disruptive and if needed a quick explanation is accepted without question, but I realise it can be annoying.
So yesterday the phone rings and I see it's preschool. But this time there's no numbers, no infusion set crisis. For once it was just a normal call. Something they could have been asking any parent. It was great. No quick-fire calculations needed, no apology as I slipped out for an hour to inject my son.
End the call and back to the meeting, "Sorry, wasn't important after all" Oops!