Thanksgiving

It was Thanksgiving, as you all know. And if you don't know, you should probably look into how you missed that. I had a full house and, honestly, it was a pretty good time. And how could you NOT have a good time when this was taking place on your couch:

That is my sister's dog, Gus, who is the cutest thing ever to live ever. However, he is into everything. He took a bite out of the cheese ball. He licked the pecan pies. He drank a large amount of my grandfather's rum and coke. His front paws spend more time on counters than on the floor.

Kobi, being the old man of the group, regulated the dogs. It was hilarious and I wish we would have gotten a video. When the dogs got too loud or started fighting, he would stand up, bark, and just look back and forth between the offending dogs until it stopped. Then he would look at me with a look that I can only assume meant, "Seriously, mom, you thought THIS was a good idea."

The only traumatic part of the weekend was caused by a bad batch of insulin. My sister has Type I diabetes and has since she was four. I had to take classes as a kid on how to handle a situation where she had diabetic seizures (caused by low blood sugar) or went into a diabetic coma (caused by high blood sugar.) Growing up, there were a shit load of the former, none of the latter. Especially when she was going through puberty and hormone levels were all over the place. So, I was very used to this and could handle just about any diabetic emergency you threw at me. A decade ago.

Now? Well, let's just say it came right back to me. Thanksgiving morning, her fiance knocked on my door and calmly stated that she was having a diabetic seizure and he couldn't find the glucagon. She was laying on her face and I managed to get her rolled on her back and get some of the sugar gel into her mouth while the boy called 911. She came to and stopped seizing before the paramedics got there, but you can't really just cancel them. So, they were there about a half hour, checking her blood sugar every five minutes or so until she was at an acceptable level. Nobody thought anything of it, these things happen.

Well, that night, she looked at me and said she was hungry and I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was going low. I went into the kitchen and got everything out of the refrigerator to make her some quesadillas and before I got it all out, she was seizing again. We located the glucagon after the last episode, so no 911 call. We determined it was the insulin and the boy and my sister's fiance went to a 24 hour Walgreen's to refill it. Luckily that solved the problems and the rest of the weekend seemed boring and uneventful in comparison. However, I think her fiance was very relieved that I was there. He kind of followed her around with a look of terror in his eyes the rest of the weekend. I was right behind him.