Meltdown

I call Spitfire diabetic "Spitfire" for good reason. The girl's in fourth grade but has the mouth of a sassy teenager, and a quietly sarcastic sense of humor to go with it. We usually have a good time, though I've certainly had to admonish her for various things (e.g., lying to me), and I know our time is important to her. Her home life is in a continuous state of disarray: a mother who's on marriage number three, except I'm not really sure if she's married because Spitfire's told me at various times that Stepdad's moved out and that Mom's dating her boyfriend from AA, a dad who won't go to classes at the endocrinology clinic so Spitfire can be on a pump, etc. I take that background into account when I deal with her, trying to walk the fine line of being on her side of things when I know she feels the rest of the world isn't, yet also being firm with her and not getting away with too much. 

She's a tough kid that can roll with the punches (and endless needlesticks) better than most, but I could tell immediately something was amiss when she walked into my office at lunch. Spitfire said she didn't feel well and wanted to go home; after she checked her blood sugar I told her to go to the cafeteria. She returned after lunch saying, "You can ask [the lunch lady], it's true, I threw up." 

Like most kids, she knows vomiting is her ticket out of school. I let her call home, betting that no one would pick up; I was right. I had to go back to another school site, but I told her she could stay in the office until her recess was over. I walked out to relay to the secretary that she'd be in there and explained why: "Supposedly she threw up." Even though I didn't believe she'd vomited, as soon as I said it, I knew it was a mistake. Spitfire heard me saying I didn't believe her. I walked back into the nurse's office, and she had a meltdown. The girl doesn't cry, but she did today. Ugh. I told her to feel better and that I hoped I'd see her tomorrow; then I left, feeling terrible.