No normal Christmas parties

– I bought this book for my wife, Manolo.  It’s terribly sexist, I don’t reccomend it, unless you get the modified-by-me version.

I threw a little shindig today…invited some people over for cupcakes and exchanged gifts with a few as well.  I made a pretty great haul, and I had a ton of fun watching others’ reactions.  There were a few downsides…first, that we were yelled at for being loud, which was only really a problem since it is finals’ week and our apartment is directly above the computer lab.  And two, when the thing was winding down and just Steve, Jerry, Becky, Manolo and I were in the living room I got a phone call from Sabrina’s dad, who very calmly said in his little Southern accent, “Hi Rachel, this is Sabrina’s father.  Sabrina just called me and said she’s really low, and she wasn’t making a lot of sense.  Can you go check on her?”  Sabrina was in her room at the time, so it might seem weird that her dad had to call me to tell me this.  And it is, really, because I should have checked on her, but I swear it only seemed like she was out of the living room for ten minutes and I hadn’t had any indication that she wasn’t feeling well.  It just goes to show how hard and how fast it hit her that she couldn’t even think to get me and had to tell her dad to call me instead….

She was more out of it than I’ve ever seen her (diabetes-related, anyway), which was scary.  I’m not the calmest person to have around in a medical emergency, but I am probably one of the shrillest.  “GET HER SOME JUICE!”  “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME!”  “EAT THIS CUPCAKE!”  All helpful, I’m sure.  We sent Jerry out, bedecked in his brand new light-up scrolling-sign belt, for some juice.  He came back in record speed with four different kinds, which he just dumped on the floor before running out to find his inhaler to deal with his own medical emergency.  Quite the team we’ve assembled here.

Anyway, we fixed her.  Or she fixed herself while we watched.  I must just marvel…Christmas is the most sugar-packed holiday season, and yet this is the second low-blood-sugar-related Christmastime emergency of my life.  There’s just so much I don’t know.

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