November 11, 2005. Lynda’s hospital room was small, and the floor, which I found myself staring at constantly, was tiled in blue. Purple and pink curtains were hanging over the vertical blinds across the large window. Her room was down a long hallway in 3 South, which is located on the 3rd floor of Children’s Hospital. This room wasn’t as cold as the room in the Emergency Department, but it wasn’t warm enough to call it cozy either. My daughter was watching, Ella Enchanted. Halfway through the movie the nurse walked in with syringes in one hand and insulin in the other. “Hello,” she said with a smile. “Time for insulin,” she pulled two latex gloves out of a box on the counter. “I’m sure you’ve seen this done a few times today,” she said while filling the syringe with clear liquid from the little glass bottle. “Now it’s your turn to give it a try.” “Here we go,” she said while holding the syringe out to me. It was a small needle with a thin point. As I took the nee...