The food sculpture challenge continues. My recuperating Mom's breakfast yesterday was a bagel and pear fox. Or kitty. Or Carolina Dog. Great art lets you see whatever fills your heart.
Lunch was a wishful thinking butterfly. Spring must be just around the corner. Surely this streak of negative and single digit temperatures cannot go on forever...can it?
It feels like it could. Sometimes just when things seem to be getting better, they get worse. Mom is doing great. If she continues at this pace, I should be able to return to the sane and warm south in 4 or 5 days. Then....
Last night I heard my mom call me. I thought I heard her say, "I need help."
I sprang to my feet, interrupting a great dream about my favorite rescue farm, Hollow Creek Farm. I raced into Mom's room. She was peacefully asleep. I went back to bed but felt unsettled. I thought she spoke again. I got up again. Nope. She was asleep. I noticed Dad wasn't in bed. He often watches TV late at night when he can't sleep. So I went downstairs. He wasn't in the TV room. I went into his office. He was at his desk looking sweaty and worried.
"Are you ok?" I asked.
"No," he told me, "I'm sweating and weak...I've never felt this way. My blood sugar is quite low." He is diabetic.
My daughter has a diabetic friend and I had to learn a lot about her care since I took her with us often on overnight trips. I knew that getting sugar in her fast was critical when her blood sugar caused symptoms like Dad's. So I ran upstairs, got him chocolate and juice. Quick sugar! He ate and drank, and felt better almost instantly. Then as his fogginess cleared, he asked me to get his glucose tablet. He had called his diabetes hotline and was awaiting a call back, but upon retesting his sugar, all was well.
So who called me at 2 a.m., awakening me from a dream, and compelling me to hurry down to help my dad? I will let you make the obvious conclusion.
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Thank you dear Jesus!
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