Last night I spent the usual 10 minutes struggling to get my Mom to agree to let me test her blood sugar after dinner so I could give her her insulin. When she finally agreed, the result was higher than I expected.
"371! Holy cow, Mom! What were you eating all day?!?!?"
"371? That can't be right! Let me look at that!" (She looks at it, the tiny little hand-held screen.) "There is something wrong with that machine. Why, that means I've gained over a hundred pounds today!"
Babygirl and I started laughing so hard our bellies were still sore this morning. It took WAY over a minute before I could gasp, "MOM! It's a glucose machine, not a SCALE!"
It took HER way over a minute to register why we were laughing.
Ah, life at Dementia Central.