Darling, We Are Growing Old

One still and strange night

DeRay and I both happened to be awake at 4 AM.

“You know,” this voice from the darkness says,

“Everything happens to you.

Nothing happens to me.

I always wanted you to take care of me.

Sometimes I’m jealous of you.” 

At last. we now know,

what has caused the tension

the past three years while I’ve been in battle. 

A few days later, he got even.

He stole the show.

Oh, yes!

Another massive cold sweat.

Groans and dreadful sounds

High and loud.

I call Amy.

Amy calls 911.

Brooke came.

And when DeRay gained consciousness

after they gave him a shot of glucose

(blood sugar was 40 – should have been around 100)

surrounding his bed were ten uniformed paramedics –

five from Layton; five from Kaysville,

as well as Brooke and Amy,

plus two fire trucks and an ambulance.

A diabetic coma.

Impressive, DeRay. Impressive!

I concede.