by Toni Shiloh
“Whoa.” Trinity held an arm out to steady herself.
Light-headedness was usually the first sign of low blood sugar, but maybe her head only swam because she’d gotten up too fast. For safety’s sake, she held on to the railing and headed downstairs for a snack. Maybe she’d drink a little cup of juice or sweet tea to get her number up faster.
Thankfully, the girls were still napping. She had no energy—literally—to handle their antics. Her mouth dropped wide as she saw her lunch on the kitchen table. Hadn’t she eaten? She remembered sitting the girls down, strapping them in their seats. What had happened to distract her from actually eating the taco lettuce cups? Oh yeah, the ants on the log. No wonder her sugar had dipped low.
She’d have to do a better job of making sure she ate when they did.
After eating and then cleaning up the living room, Trinity shuffled to the wall thermostat in front of the stairs. Why was it so hot in the house? Had the air conditioner stopped working? 74.
That wasn’t hot at all. Omar always set it to seventy when he came home, but she and the girls preferred it a little warm. Still, it seemed unusually hot.
“Mommy!” Faith stood at the top of the stairs, Trinity’s cell phone in one hand and the other covering her ear. “It’s loud.”
“What?” Why did Faith’s voice sound so far away?
“The phone is screaming!”
Joy joined her sister, hands over her ears.
Was her app malfunctioning? Trinity looked down at her pod. Nothing was out of order. She took a step toward the stairs, frowning at how heavy her foot was. Then another. Realization flooded her system. Her blood sugar hadn’t gone up. Something was wrong.
“Call your daddy,” Trinity said before she sank into the darkness.
* * *
Omar frowned as his phone vibrated in his pants pocket. He didn’t want to look at it since he was in a meeting, but this was the second time it had gone off. Maybe the call was an important one. He slid his cell phone out and his eyes widened. Trinity’s app had sent him an alert.
Her blood sugar’s thirty?!
“Cap, I need to go.” He winced at the look of annoyance on Captain Simms’s face. He held up his phone. “Trinity’s diabetic and I just received an alert saying her blood sugar is dangerously low.”
Just then the station’s medical alert system sounded. “Medical attention is needed at 54 Oakview Court. A child called. Mother is unresponsive.”
Omar flew out of his seat. “That’s my address.”
The room erupted in movement as everyone flew into response to handle the call. His heart pounded as he jumped into the bus—ambulance—with Spence.
“We’ll get there in time, Young. It’s in God’s hands,” Spence offered as he sped out of the garage and onto the street.
Omar wished he could take comfort in that, but God had already taken one wife. What’s to say He wouldn’t take another? Omar couldn’t think like that. I’m sorry for being so cynical, Lord. Please, have mercy on Trinity. Watch over my family, please. He swallowed.
Were the girls scared? Crying?
Was Trinity alive?
His heart stuttered and his vision blurred before him.
“Young! Young! You gotta stay calm.”
Omar shook his head, flinging the fog away as he drew in a shaky breath. Then another. And another. Each inhale brought sweet oxygen to his system. By the time the bus stopped in front of his house, Omar had his emotions back under control.
He hopped out, racing up the driveway and unlocking the front door with a quickness that surprised him, considering how badly his hands shook.
“Trinity!” Her limp body lay at the bottom of the stairs. He bent down on one knee to check the pulse in her neck. She was alive! “Thank You, God.” He wanted to weep with relief.
Spence took over and motioned for Omar to turn around and look behind him. The girls were upstairs, tears streaming down their faces. He rushed up and unlatched the baby gate. “It’s okay. She’s okay.” He wrapped them in his arms, murmuring soothing noises to them.
“Is she dead?” Faith asked in between sniffles.
“She’s alive. My friend Spence down there is going to get her feeling better. I’m going to go to the hospital and make sure she’s all better, ’kay?”
“I called 9-1-1, like you taught me,” Faith cried.
“You did good, baby.”
He hauled them up, put one on each hip and jogged down the stairs. Spence and the rest of the crew had already placed Trinity onto the stretcher. Omar ran next door and slowed when Trinity’s mom came out of the house.
“What’s wrong?” She wrung her hands, her gaze shifting from his to the commotion behind him.
“Trinity’s blood sugar is low.”
Her mother’s face blanched.
“I want to go make sure everything is okay, but the girls are a little shook.”
“I’m sure they are.” She reached for Joy and then took Faith. “Go. Let me know as soon as we can come.”
“I will, Mrs. Davis.”
She shooed him. “Call me Mom now.”
“Bye, Mom.” He paused and kissed her cheek.
Later he’d sit down and examine the feelings rushing through him at calling yet another mother-in-law Mom. That had been what Nancy urged him to call her.
He hopped into the captain’s truck and buckled up. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I sent the ladder back to the station, and Spence is already on his way to the hospital. Once I drop you off, I’ll head back.”
“I appreciate the ride.”
“You just take care of your wife. Don’t worry about work matters.”
Omar nodded absentmindedly. His mind had already dumped all things work related. All he could picture was Trinity’s still body draped along the stairs. He prayed she had no bruising or broken bones. Had she fallen going up the stairs or down? From the way her body had been lying on the landing, he’d assumed she’d been going up.
He ran a hand down his face. The unknown was awful. He hated not knowing how she was doing. The lump in his throat felt like his heart had lodged there, stuck by fear.
By the time the captain pulled up to the emergency entrance, Omar’s nerves were about frayed. With a thanks, he jumped out of the truck and ran inside, straight to the front desk.
“My wife was brought in via ambulance. Trinity Young.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Young. I’ll have a nurse come out for you.” The receptionist picked up the phone and alerted whoever was on the other end. She placed the receiver down. “She’ll be right out.”
He slid his hands into his pockets, staring at the double doors that led to the ER, willing them to open. Finally, a petite blonde woman walked out and met his gaze. “Mr. Young?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He followed her through the doors. “How is she?”
“The doctor’s in there with her now. He’ll give you an update.” She paused and pointed to an open door on the right. “She’s right in there.”
“Thank you.”
“Sure thing.”
He stepped into the room, shoulders tense and nerves flinging like a water hose gone loose. “I’m Omar Young.” He extended his hand out toward the doctor, his eyes fixed on Trinity’s still form.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Young. I’m Dr. O’Malley. Your wife has been in and out of sleep. We’ve got her numbers climbing up just like they should be.”
“What happened?” He couldn’t remember the last time Trinity’s diabetes had sent her to the hospital.
“Faulty pod.” The doc held up the pod that Trinity had been wearing on her right shoulder. “It hasn’t been sending the injections through.”
“But I got multiple alerts with different readings.”
“I imagine Mrs. Young heard an alert, ate
or programmed an injection, but it didn’t matter because the pod didn’t send the insulin through her body.”
Omar frowned. “It’s the pod’s fault? I mean, she didn’t wear it in that location too much or anything?” Why hadn’t he taken the time to know the ins and outs of her disease and medical equipment?
Trinity had been diagnosed as a teenager, but she seemed to adapt so easily to meds and treatments. She was always conscious of just how much sugar she ingested. He knew she didn’t like it when people asked about her blood sugar levels, but maybe he should have been a little more conscientious.
“How will we know if the other pods are defective?” He couldn’t let this happen again. His stomach dropped to his toes just thinking about a repeat visit to the hospital. One with worse outcomes.
The doctor showed Omar what to look for while a nurse did another blood sugar check. Dr. O’Malley gave a satisfied nod and exited the room. Omar pulled up a chair next to the railing of Trinity’s bed and sat down. He rested his forehead on the bed.
This scene joined an awful replay of a similar one. Both times, he’d been visiting his wife. First Christine, now Trinity. This was what he’d been afraid of—losing another love, another wife. Battling through another round of grief.
Lord, a marriage of convenience was supposed to protect my heart, not put it through the wringer.
Since Trinity was his best friend—his oldest friend—it added another spin to the complications. If he ever lost her, he’d lose part of himself. She’d been with him through every up and down life had thrown his way. If Trinity passed away, how would he cope?
Thankfully the faulty pods could be replaced. He would make sure this never happened again, because he’d been in the hospital one too many times for his liking.
Chapter Fourteen
If Omar checked her blood sugar one more time, Trinity would let out a scream to rival Faith’s and Joy’s. Ever since she’d come home from the hospital, he’d been hovering over her like a helicopter parent. At first, she thought the attention was a little sweet. She knew Omar valued their friendship and seeing him wait on her showed her just how much.
But that was a week ago. Seven whole days since her defective pod had landed her in the emergency room and with a nervous Nellie for a husband. 168 hours’ worth of him drilling holes into her being with his stares to make sure she was feeling fine. Okay, not that many. She could subtract time for sleep and the blessed relief that had brought.
The pharmacy and the insurance company were able to send her a fresh set of new pods, without extra charge. And even though she’d checked to make sure they were A-okay, Omar had inspected them as well.
Her numbers were great, and insulin pumped through her body with every programmed injection. Yet Omar kept checking her app and his to make sure all the numbers looked the same. He’d peeked over her shoulder at every check of blood sugar and often asked for her to do so again. She had no fruity breath, no sweating, no signs of her blood sugar going too high or too low.
She was perfectly fine.
Yet Omar continued to treat her as if she had fragile written across her forehead. Even the girls looked at her differently. Honestly, that change bothered her the most. It broke her heart to see how clingy Joy had become while Faith eyed her from afar, never getting too close. As if she had to wall up her heart and protect it in case another person she loved died.
Trinity wiped at the tear that rolled down her face. If anyone in the house saw her crying, they’d think the end was near for sure. She sighed and turned on the kitchen faucet to wash her hands. Tonight, she would attempt to cook a meal that might have Omar pitching a fit but would make her taste buds more than happy.
The Texas toast pizzas were sure to be a big hit with the girls. They loved pizza, and what could be better than eating it atop a slice of Texas toast? Her mouth watered as she placed the thick slices on a cooking sheet.
“Cooking already, Trin?”
She looked up as Omar walked by her. “Yes. Texas toast pizza.”
“Oh yum. I remember eating these at your mom’s house.” He popped a slice of pepperoni in his mouth, then froze. “Wait a minute. You can’t have that.”
Here we go. “Of course I can. I’m having a side salad, and I’ll program my pod to ensure I get the proper insulin dose.”
“Why don’t you just stick to the salad?”
“Are you calling me fat?” She stared him down, willing him to see how ridiculous he was behaving.
His eyes widened in horror. “No...no!” He shook his head. “I’m only concerned with your health. Can’t you see that?”
She blew out a breath. “Yes, but can’t you see I may be a little,” she held her thumb and pointer finger a smidgen apart, “irritated from the constant checkup?”
He rubbed a hand down his face and nodded slowly.
“I know you’re concerned, Omar. But you have to remember this wasn’t because I wasn’t taking care of myself. It was the pod.”
“But what if it happens again?”
She prayed it didn’t but couldn’t say another episode wouldn’t happen again. “We have to put tomorrow in God’s hands. We can’t live in fear.”
“I know,” he murmured.
Trinity reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. “I’m fine. I promise.”
What did the look on his face mean? Was he still grieving Christine’s death? Overly concerned about her? She wished she could tell, but one thing was certain, it wasn’t a happy expression. Without thought, she wrapped her arms around Omar and gave him a hug. The strength of his arms warmed her insides and wrapped her with an assurance of being safe.
“I’d be lost without you, Trinity.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said into his shirt. “BFFs.”
“Forever,” he whispered.
The urge to rest her head against his chest pricked at her. Heat filled her cheeks, and she pulled back. Her pulse beat a little too quickly for it to have just been a friendly hug. Her thoughts jangled in confusion.
Omar exhaled loudly. “Sorry for being overbearing.”
“Forgiven.” She forced a smile onto her face. “As long as you let me eat my Texas toast pizza.”
He chuckled. “Go ahead. But I’m still checking your pod.”
She opened her mouth to protest, and he held a hand up to stop her.
“I just won’t do it as much. Fair enough?”
“Fine.”
Omar threw the salad into a bowl and added carrots, tomatoes and diced-up cucumbers. Trinity placed the toast in the oven, enjoying the hum of activity in the kitchen.
“Want me to get the girls?” he asked.
“Please.” Trinity set the table and moved the salad bowl to the center. All she needed was for the toast to finish cooking and dinner would be served.
She thought about her conversation with Omar. Now that they’d cleared the air, hopefully he’d throttle back his hovering to a mere dip before rotating to the next victim. She shook her head ruefully. Maybe she just needed to get out of the house. She’d been cooped up for too long and since Omar would be going back to work tomorrow, she could return to a normal routine.
Maybe then Omar and the girls would be reassured she was just fine. Joy came rushing into the kitchen, arms out wide for Trinity to pick her up. She bent at the knees and swooped the little girl up.
“Mwah,” she said, placing a kiss on Joy’s cheek. “You hungry?”
Joy nodded vigorously.
“Good. Dinner’s about done.” The timer on the oven beeped. “See?” Trinity buckled Joy into her high chair and then got the food out of the oven. The smell of the melted cheese and tomato sauce made her stomach rumble.
Omar walked in with Faith and helped her into the chair. Trinity plated the food, then she and Omar carried the dishes to the table.
&nb
sp; “Looks yucky,” Faith proclaimed.
Trinity stifled a groan. If anyone would complain, it would be her. “It’s pizza.”
“Nuh-uh. P-za doesn’t look like that.”
“It’s on toast, sweetie,” Omar coaxed.
She scrunched her nose up. Trinity could only pray Faith wouldn’t throw a fit. Then again, the threenager seemed to save those for when Omar was at work. Trinity cut up Joy’s food as Omar used his child whisperer voice to get Faith to at least try a piece. She eyed the offering on her plate suspiciously but finally took a bite.
“Do you like it?” Trinity asked.
The little girl shrugged, but the way she wiggled in her chair told Trinity the truth. She smiled. Finally, things were getting back to normal. Little girls who would argue over dinner, or eat it happily (Joy) and a husband—best friend—who’d agreed to stop hovering.
* * *
Every time he closed his eyes, Omar pictured Trinity unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Heard his daughters’ cries in the deep, dark recesses of his mind. The memories taunted him, drove out his peace, and he had no idea how to get it back. He prayed verses that spoke to incomprehensible peace, but his nerves remained shattered.
He’d apologized to Trinity for being overbearing, but honestly, he wasn’t sure how to stop. Even now he wanted to check her blood sugar and make sure the insulin was doing its job. He couldn’t even enjoy the Texas toast pizza because his stomach was too busy doing acrobatics as he watched her without being obvious.
Which was almost impossible. How could he not watch her? What if something happened to her the moment he stopped looking? What was he supposed to do when he returned to work?
Omar blew out a breath and concentrated on chewing the piece of food in his mouth. His girls’ dinner antics couldn’t even help him focus. All he could concentrate on was Trinity’s health.
Lord God, please bring all my thoughts captive under the obedience of the Lord Jesus Christ. I can’t keep spiraling and worrying. But I don’t know how to turn this fear over to You. How do I let go?
