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Thursday, January 30, 2014
Just a spoonful of sugar
My dad and I had spent the last few hours discussing insulin and blood sugar levels with his doctor at the Veteran's Administration.
We'd been summoned because my 90-year-old father has been coming up short with his insulin syringes.
His nurse will leave seven for a week and come back to find he's run out — two days early.
She's reported him to his doctor, suspecting that he's taking double doses a couple of times a week.
He is arguing that someone has been taking the missing syringes and he's just fine, thank you very much. No one needs to worry or tell him what to do.
While we waited for the doctor, he told me how well he's eating and how he watches his diet and is careful to be careful.
He said he is fairly insulted to be told that if he doesn't start taking his medications correctly he will be moved to the assisted living wing of the care center.
He told the doctor she doesn't need to be concerned.
So we left, after thoroughly reviewing the past few weeks and deciding we would have my brother create a timed lockbox for his insulin.
I had orders to get him some glucose tablets to keep on hand if his sugar levels drop and he is supposed to redouble his efforts to keep track of himself.
It was well after noon when we finished so we stopped at an I-Hop for lunch.
I know my father likes the Talapia there. (Me, not so much).
We went in and got seated.
I ordered a BLT, my fallback for times when I'm too hungry to make a new decision at a place I rarely go.
"I'll have that!" my father said, pointing to the front of the menu.
I was taken aback.
He was pointing to the picture of the Strawberry short stack of pancakes complete with fluffy whipped cream and powdered sugar.
"But, dad," I protested. "That can't be good for diabetics."
"That's what I want!" he said, "And I'm buying."
I was too surprised to fight very much more other than to weakly suggest the Talapia.
"Isn't that your favorite here?" I said.
"Not today!" he said and proceeded to shoo away the waitress who dutifully returned with his pancakes with the whipped cream on the side.
"Umm. This is really good," my father said, scooping the cream onto the pancakes.
"They don't have anything like this at the Legacy Center."
I can't imagine why not...