Death of a Beloved Betty
I was privileged enough to be there. I loved her so much, and will continue to follow her example for all of my life, I think.
The story gets kinda odd from there, and I may not tell it all in today's post.
Orville, my grandfather, was married to Betty for just short of 68 years. My home is about 125 miles from theirs, and mine was the only number they could find to give to the hospital. They called me Tuesday morning, and I arrived at the hospital on Tuesday evening. The day after her death, Orville was experiencing shortness of breath, and we ended up in the emergency room. They told him he was experiencing "a little heart failure" and admitted him. He was in the hospital, the same hospital where Betty died, for two days. (I made great headway on some of my knitting projects.)
My mother, who had been in Mexico on vacation, was informed by my brave brother, who does not do well with death. She arrived on Thursday afternoon.
I am tired and a little flip and giddy. My hair is so greasy, I would almost say that I look like Professor Snape.
The good news is, that when Orville was in the hospital, they monitored his blood sugar, but did not administer any insulin. The highest reading they got was 154. They've instructed him NOT to take any insulin until he talks again with his doctors (that will be Tuesday), and told him not to worry about any reading up as high as 300 or higher. They said lows were much, much for dangerous for a person his age, and with his other conditions.
This morning, his reading was 94. That's right. No insulin, no oral meds for insulin, and my almost-90-year-old grandfather is testing in the normal glucose range.
I'll post more later, after I drive home. And after I shower.