My elderly mother sat on the living room couch watching TV as I plumped the pillows behind her. “I’m going outside now,” I told her. “I’ll come back inside in half an hour.”
At four o’clock every busy afternoon, I treated myself to one relaxing hour on my back patio, enjoying the beautiful Arizona weather. When the melody “Fur Elise” floated throughout the house every day at 5:00 sharp, I knew it was time to go back indoors and continue my 15-hour work-day. My trusty timer always kept me on schedule.
But this particular day was different. I had to go back inside at 4:30 to start dinner a half hour early, because my 4-year-old granddaughter was coming over to visit.
Six months earlier, my mother had fallen and broken her neck. It was a miracle it hadn’t paralyzed her. After four months in a nursing home recovering, she moved in with me. Her blood sugar after her fall had shot up to 200, but with medication, doctors had gotten it back down to a normal 100. After two months of constantly checking her blood sugar, I was finally able to relax my constant vigil. The medication was working.
At 4:00, I went out to the back patio. Thirty minutes went by quickly.
At 4:30, I came indoors early to prepare dinner. As I passed my mother on the couch, I noticed she had a strange expression on her face. That’s odd. She looks confused. I moved closer to her and tried to get her attention, but she simply sat there with a vacant smile, staring into space. “Mother?” No response. “Do you know who I am?” A slight shake of the head. I started pumping her with questions. “Do you know what year this is?” Still no response.
Alarm bells clanging in my head, I rushed to the bedroom to get her glucometer. With trembling hands, I stuck her finger to test her blood sugar. It read a dangerously-low 45!
Forcing myself not to panic, I ran to the kitchen. Tearing open the freezer door, I yanked out food until I found some frozen concentrate to make some juice. I tried giving her some but it dribbled down her chin -she couldn’t swallow it.
I dialed 911.
It was just minutes, although it seemed like hours, before ambulance sirens blaring in the distance headed our way. Mother started to slump over while I frantically tried to hold onto her.
A fire engine pulled up in front and paramedics rushed into the house. One took her blood pressure. Another asked me questions and filled out paperwork. Another tested her blood sugar. “Her sugar is 25!” he shouted. She began slipping off the couch.
Paramedics immediately pulled out their IV equipment and soon they pushed the life-giving glucose into her IV.
For an eternal minute we waited, when suddenly she sat up and looked around, gazing in amazement at all the strangers watching her.
“You’d better take her to the hospital,” they advised me.
Looking around at all the people who surrounded her, mother insisted, “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I was just taking a nap.”
The crew loaded her into the ambulance and they were gone in a flash. I rushed around the house grabbing medical records and some clothing for her; then phoned my daughter to tell her what had happened.
I started out the door for the hospital. As I turned to grab my purse, my hand froze as the melody of “Fur Elise,” my alarm, chimed throughout the house. My eyes darted to the kitchen clock – it read 5:00! I gulped as I realized this was the usual time for me to come back inside the house. Thank you God for arranging my schedule so I had to come in a half hour early today.
The E.R. doctor explained that she wasn’t metabolizing her diabetes medication any longer. It took five days to stabilize her.
As I look back on that day, I realize that if I hadn’t come indoors until my usual 5:00, I would have found my mother unconscious on the couch or it may have been too late altogether. A mere 30 minutes made the difference between life and death. I know that God is always watching over. I know now that I’m not my mother’s only caregiver - I have the Lord helping me. We are never alone. And that’s the best miracle.
