This has been a strange week. We went out to dinner with the Clarks on New Years Eve and then went back to their house and watched a really dumb movie (Stepford Wives). When we got home Jimmy called from Okinawa to  wish us a Happy New Year. As I was chatting away I went into the bathroom to take my high blood pressure medicine. I didn't have my glasses on so I reached for the bottle in the place where my medicine had been the night before.

Two AM I woke up - I lay in bed drenched with sweat - I felt nauseous. What was happening to me? I tried to think of what my symptoms meant - i could not even think! I needed to say something to Dad - I tried - no sound came out of my mouth. I kept trying to talk - nothing happened. Finally, I muttered very softly: "Something's wrong". Dad jumped right up, looked at me and asked me if I was having chest pains. I tried to answer him but I only slurred a few words - I shook my head. He took my blood pressure - it was fine. He took my blood sugar - only 55 - that is close to what the number is when you go into a diabetic coma. I had taken Dad's glipizide instead of my own medication.

Dad brought me a big glass of orange juice and my box of Godiva chocolates which I had gotten for Christmas. I quickly ate six pieces of the chocolate - it was delicious and drank down the glass of orange juice. The food saved my life - quickly my blood sugar started to rise. It was a close call, though,  and scared me.

We have been talking about what a safe place Shelter Island is - the crime rate is low, there are no traffic jams, few car accidents and the stress level is low.

This morning Dad and I were driving on Menantic Road - it was a quiet morning - not even a breeze. Ten feet in front of us a huge tree fell into the road. Dad had to slam on the brakes.

I have come to the conclusion that no place is really safe.

 

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