I was chatting yesterday lunchtime about plans for the weekend, plans for 2025, and just casually mentioned the events that unfolded in my ‘Hypo‘ blog post.

But it reminded me about the first time, years ago, I had to ring for the paramedics to attend to my wife.

A novice at marriage and fatherhood I was more anxious back then, understandably so given the newness of the situation. Being confronted by a sweating, shuddering, gibbering, unresponsive loved one is hard. I don’t know how my wife puts up with me!

Anyway, I’d been slowly feeding her bits of chocolate after the glucose gel pack ran out. There was no improvement after a while so I had to get the professionals in.

When they arrived I was looking after daughter1 and the cats and didn’t think about the implications of just sending the paramedics upstairs.

And then I realised I’d sent 2 strangers up, strangers who entered the room just as my wife returned to consciousness. She’s there, stark naked, spreadeagled on the bed, wondering what the hell is going on.

Time passed, the 2 pros didn’t need to do much other than observations and to advise me to get her something decent to eat.

My first request after she was out of bed, please don’t ring your mum or sister or tell anyone at work that I let 2 complete strangers into the bedroom when you were at your most vulnerable.

I was thwarted.

I probably deserved it too.