Our summer classic film series continues with a scene from the movie Jaws. That is, if the shark had diabetes.
 

(The Beach)

Alex Kintner: Mom, can I get my raft and go back out in the water?
 

Mrs. Kintner: Lemme see your fingers. Alex Kintner! They are beginning to prune.
 

Alex: Just lemme go out a little longer?
 

Mrs. Kintner: Just ten more minutes.
 

Sean Brody: (singing) Oh do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man …
 

Witness: Holy shit! Did you see that?
 

Chief Brody: Get everybody out of the water! Get out! Get out!
 

Mrs. Kintner: (screaming) Alex! Alex! It's headed straight for my baby!!! Oh my god!!!! Oh my god!!!!! Alex!!!!
  (READ MORE)

k. james

The waiting room in endocrinology was like an assembly line of children with diabetes. Each time one child went in, another appeared. Then another and another and another. Very sad.

I zoomed in on a cute little girl with shoulder-length hair and a top with purple and red hearts as she buried her face into her father's shirt as he talked to the receptionist. Maybe just diagnosed? Don't know for sure. She had a sort of worry that should never be on a child's face.

I leaned over to Susanne to point out the girl, but she said "I know." 

  (READ MORE)

It's a milestone - but not one worthy of celebration.

Charlie is approaching five years with this despicable disease.

We can't remember Charlie without diabetes. Charlie can't either. His earliest memories will contain images of blood being taken from his fingertips constantly, being poked with sharp objects and juice being forced down his throat in the middle of the night.

Soon we won't be able to remember a time when Charlie wasn't attached to an insulin pump; a time when tape and tubing and needle wasn't fastened to his body 24 hours a day like some sort of medieval torture device.

I want this to all be a dream that seemed so real.

I want diabetes to be forgotten. Gone so long, the word escapes me.

Gone so long, the word is mispronounced.

We need a cure. We need a cure now.  (READ MORE)

booboogb

"I was a real looker back then. Like Carole Lombard," Nana Kay said to me over the weekend, a month before her 95th birthday.

The Nana Kay annual summer tour made a stop at my place on Friday and my mother's house down at the Jersey shore. She was visiting from Florida.

She told us how she met my grandfather, Charlie.

She was 16. They met at a party in Brooklyn. Charlie always had a camera on him. He loved photography. He would snap pictures of her, figuring it would give him an excuse to see her again; to show her the photos he took of her. He was smoove like that. (READ MORE)

Where were you! We waited all night for you and you never showed up! Did you forget you had plans with Charlie?  Time and time again I trust you'll be there and time and time again you disappoint him. I feel like such a fool for believing you.

You say you're active. But, are you? Actively absent, maybe. When was the last time you spent some real quality time with him? When was the last time you spent the whole time with him that you said you would? I honestly can't remember. It's been that long.  How can you abandon him at a time when he needs you most?

You say you're "on board," but I don't think so. Sometimes I don't think you were ever on board. It's like you're not even there at all. Like you're invisible. (READ MORE)

Charlie got happy on Saturday. Happy to the tune of 520 mg/dl.

For several reasons, if we have something fun planned for the kids, we don't divulge the news until the very last moment. This is because A. – it's really annoying to hear "is it time to go yet?" over and over again for weeks because they can't comprehend the concept of time or understand the complexities of calendars,  B. – we don't want them to be disappointed if for some reason we can't go, and 3. – it's really annoying to hear "is it time to go yet" over and over again for weeks.

When we went to Disney, we kept that secret for months. They found out we were going to Disney about three hours before our flight to Orlando was to depart. (READ MORE)