Double take

Maybe it won’t hit you at the first undeniable signs

Or at the hospital, his name written on the board

And on the bracelet around your wrist

Just like hers was many years ago

Maybe it won’t hit you at home

His syringes strewn all over the kitchen counter

Just like her syringes and vials

On her nightstand years earlier

Maybe it won’t hit you at the pharmacy

When you need to sort out his orders, then hers

When you leave with insulin for both

When you pay double the copay

Maybe it won’t hit you on the phone

Supplies and appointments for her, then for him

Double the time on hold

Double the logistical burden

Maybe it won’t hit you when you check on him

Do his injections, replace his devices

Count the carbs, calculate the dosage

Then prep her pump for site change

Maybe there is no hit?

No one-two punch

You’ve been doing it for so long

Why does it matter that it’s now double?

Maybe it is just a double take

When you see him do his shots,

Check his numbers, treat his lows

Our inescapable new reality

And you watch him, as you used to watch her

With a pang in your chest and a pit in your stomach

With a bubbling of anger, a wave of sadness

In disbelief, surreal, all over again