The medic frowned but nodded, pulling out a small kit to check her blood sugar. “What medication is she on?”
“Insulin,” I replied, my eyes locked on her face as she studied the test results. I could see her brows knit together, a look of concern crossing her features.
“What’s wrong?” I blurted out, panic rising in my chest. I leaned in closer, my heart hammering wildly as I searched her face for answers. “What’s going on? Why do you look like that?”
Her movements became a blur, hands working quickly to put an oxygen mask over my daughter’s face, then pulling out needles and syringes with such precision, I could hardly keep up. She was speaking to her colleague in rapid-fire English, words I couldn’t even grasp—despite being a native speaker.
“What’s happening?!” I cried, my voice risin
