Easter Eve

In previous years, by now, I'd have a ring of chocolate firmly around my face.  My stomach would ususally hurt from all the chocolate eggs, and there'd be the biggest bowl of candy gracing every table.  Make no wonder I was diagnosed with diabetes exactly eight years ago.  I remember the day well.  It was Easter Sunday and I was preparing to take my parents for brunch at the hotel.  For some odd reason, I had my finger tested for blood sugar and it read 32.9.  That didn't mean anything to me at the time for I felt perfectly fine.  Ten minutes later, I found myself in the emergency room being helped in by two strapping men who saw the seriousness of the experience.  That's where I spent the rest of the day, not being allowed anything to eat.  It took many years later to get that under control.  I'm not sure I'm totally there, but I'm a lot closer than I ever was.  So, in my easter basket tomorrow, there isn't the usual pack of peeps or the marshmallow bunny that I loved so dearly.  As a matter of fact, there isn't an easter basket at all.  I don't need such things anymore.  My day tomorrow will consist of breakfast with a close friend and dinner with family.  There might be a slice of some kind of cake calling my name and I typically answer the call, but just modestly.  I have learned that anything is fair game.  I piece of cake is a lot different that the entire cake (yes, I've done that).  So, it seems like my easter will look decidedly different this year.  It will ensure that I enjoy many, many more.