Fakeabetes

Brace yourselves, Hudson has been afflicted with a disease.  A disease so rare, it only exists in his mind.  I call it Fakeabetes and it is both horrible and ridiculous in equal measure.  Since Connor's diagnosis last December, Hudson has been ever so slowly and subtly familiarizing himself with every aspect of Connor's diabetes care. After all, it's not a secret and it's pretty much a family affair.  In fact, I thought his careful observation was a wonderful thing because somewhere down the road (way way way down the road) there might come a time when I cannot supervise Connor with what Matt lovingly refers to as my iron fist.  When the day arrives that my children might be alone somewhere together (hold on, I feel a panic attack coming on) I need to know that Hudson will know how to help Connor in case of an emergency.  I never thought that Hudson might be incapable of helping Connor in a real diabetes emergency because he could possibly be in the throws of his very own Fakeabetes emergency.

Here is how it started.  As we all got used to Connor's new way of life, Hudson started picking up some new lingo and just randomly throwing it into conversation. For example, he would wander downstairs in the morning and yell, "Mom!  I needs my bag."  What bag, Hudson?  "My bag with all thems needles."  Oh....hmm.  But it was just the odd, occasional reference and so I thought he might be hurting for attention since his brother was kind of stealing the show with that pesky chronic medical condition, so Matt and I decided to lavish the Puddin' Pop with lots of extra love and special feelings.  He ate it up with a spoon.  We might have created a monster (and yes, I do acknowledge the irony in this very delayed realization).    

Hudson now has more diabetes related situations than Connor and I put together.  He is always sneaking around while Connor is in the shower, putting on the running belt Connor wears to hold his pump.  He then tries forever to incorrectly connect that pump to his navel, which is absolutely not how it works.  At mealtimes, he will randomly shout out such things as, "Mom!  Where's my food, I already bolused!"    Sometimes from the backseat Connor will request his diabetes bag which I then lovingly toss over my shoulder.  Immediately I hear Hudson parrot the request, "Mom, I needs my bag too."  Glancing in the rear view mirror I see him staring at the back of my head, hand outstretched.  He won't give up until I hand him an imaginary bag over my shoulder, which he then takes and thanks me for.  Anytime we eat, he lifts his shirt, dials up his imaginary pump while we all just sit there staring at him.  He then has the audacity to look up at us and say "What?"
Really.

Hudson modeling his ill-gotten and medically unnecessary insulin pump. You can clearly tell it
makes him feel real sassy. 

The best/worst are his faux crisis. Often times when Hudson is required to do something that seems remotely strenuous such as picking his dirty socks up off the floor or brushing his teeth, he immediately collapses to the floor or couch (whichever is closest) and weakly says, "I can'ts do it Mommy, my blood sugar's low.  It's 49.  I needs some sugars."  I swear I feel like Sally Field in the middle of Dolly Parton's salon shoving hard candies down Julia Roberts' gullet.  And here's the kicker, his "blood sugar" is always 49.  Always. So at least he's consistent?  Fakeabetes is like Hudson's imaginary get out of chores free card that never ever works!  But I have to give him props for trying.  As soon as I say, "You are not low Hudson, you don't have diabetes." he hops up, grins slyly and says, "Oh...I dos."

I have to admit as weird as this is (and it is pretty high up on the very long list of strange stuff Hudson does) it entertains the holy heck out of Connor.  It is like a walking, talking, dancing version of what not to do as a Type 1 diabetic and it never ceases to make us laugh.  Should we be encouraging this behavior?  Undoubtedly not.  But to quote the immortal Hudson Hill....

 "Oh...I dos."