Up in the middle of the night. At 3 a.m., Mom called me instead of 911. Dad yelling that he's dying. This is unfortunately becoming familiar. Sugar's probably low. I told her to give him some juice. I didn't panic. Got some clothes on and drove over, not slowly but not dangerously fast, either. He looked "low." I got his testing supplies and checked his sugar. 44. He was alert enough to drink juice and eat cookies and ice cream. Came up to 57 after that, and would continue to rise. Twice we've had to call the paramedics to give him IV glucose. Those times his BG was in the 20s. Those times I was in a panic. He really looked like he was gonna die. He has bad CHF and a leaky mitral valve, low EF, etc etc etc. The ticker ain't gonna last. Mom is more scared than she tries to let on. Now it's not quite 4 a.m. Raining. Dog was waiting for me when I got home. I've got Miles Davis on. I'll go back to sleep for the next couple of hours.
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5 days ago
I always love it when my little dogie is waiting for me at home. I also hate it when my dad gets sick and calls me first (even though there are are six of us kids who seem to be in much more socially attractive positions). thank you for your blog.
ReplyDeleteMilo