Mark pulled the D card

So yes, diabetes is very serious. It's a chronic, life-threatening disease, if not properly managed. (And properly doesn't mean perfectly, which is an impossibility, it really means constantly.) Yes, it complicates our lives quite a bit, and interferes with such mundane tasks as eating or sleeping (or not sleeping, as the last three nights prove).

But in the larger scheme of life, it's become...just the way things are. I haven't ever gone so far as to forget Mark has it, but I don't dwell on it or obsess about it as much as I did when he first moved in. In fact, sometimes now I even forget to mention it to people, who stare at me horrified when I poke Mark's fingers and order him to bleed.

Instead, I make a big deal out of not making diabetes a big deal. "It's just what you have," I tell Mark. "Everybody's got something -- high blood pressure, high cholesterol, you name it." I want him to coexist peacefully with his diabetes, managing it but not letting it define him. I don't let him dwell on his diabetes, or play a martyr because of it.

However...sometimes diabetes is a big deal. Sometimes we do have to ask people for cuts in line or special favors because Mark's having a low blood sugar. I don't do it often, but when I do, I call it "playing the D card."

My mom's an expert at playing the D card. Sometimes it works well (hello, Disneyworld group FastPass!) and sometimes, it backfires. Once, after waiting a really long time in a restaurant, my very hungry mom told the waitress her grandson had diabetes and needed to eat. The waitress apologized and brought Mark a huge glass of orange juice, which would've sent his blood sugar soaring (he wasn't low at the time). "You better drink that whole glass!" I told my mom, laughing really hard.

So yes, I will admit that occasionally we use diabetes to our advantage. Not often, and we try to use our powers for good, not for evil.

Yesterday, I found out Mark's learned to play the D card as well. He got into a scuffle with his best friend last week. Heated words were exchanged on the one-touch court, prompting Mark to push Tyler. Tyler responded by punching Mark in the stomach, and both boys earned a week's worth of lunchtime detention.

Both boys received a good talking to, and in an example we should all follow when fighting, quickly moved on. I'd forgotten the whole incident until I ran into Tyler's mom yesterday.

"I'm so sorry about what happened last week!" she told me, so I knew she was talking about the fight. "Tyler was punished, and we talked to him, and I know Mark has diabetes, so--"

"Wait, you're talking about the fight, right?" I interrupted.

She nodded. "Don't worry about his diabetes," I said. "It didn't stop him from pushing Tyler first!" I told her that yes, he has diabetes, but it's not a free pass, especially when it comes to fighting.

Later that night, Mark told me he got to sit down at lunch detention.

"How come?" I asked. He'd said before they had to stand the whole time.

"Well," he started. "Some other kid was sitting down, and I asked why he got to sit down and we didn't. The lunch duty said he had a medical condition."

Everybody join me in a chorus of Oh no, he didn't! Because you know where this is going...

"And?" I prompted.

"And," he answered, "I said, 'I have a medical condition, too!'" So he got to sit.

I wasn't sure whether to congratulate him or admonish him for being so clever. But it was cut-and-dry for my mom.

"Good for him!" she cheered, when I told her the story. She was proud he'd figured out how to use his diabetes to his advantage.

I guess she's right. And at least he didn't end up with a jumbo-sized glass of orange juice this time.