Jackson, My Hero

When I first became diabetic, I scoured the Internet for information. I came across all kinds of crap.

One story that stuck with me was from a diabetes blog, where a woman posted a story about her diabetic son. Her son had an active day, helping a friend move. After moving boxes all day, he returned home exhausted and decided to lie down for a nap. This silly diabetic didn't check his blood sugar before doing so. During his nap, the normally docile family cat kept jumping on and scratching at his legs. He eventually woke up and realized that he felt a little woozy. He checked his blood sugar and was at a low 29. Tsk, tsk, diabetic!

The moral of this story (according to this obviously crazy cat lady) is that had it not been for the family cat, her son would have died in his sleep from low blood sugar.

I try to remember this story when Jackson is driving me crazy, especially in the middle of the night. Like when he attacks my legs when I'm on my way to the bathroom. Or when he scratches at the rug/bed/box spring. Or when he knocks things off of my dresser just for ha-ha's. He's actually doing all these things to save my life!

Except for when he tries to eat the tubing of my insulin pump. Then he's just being a dick.

Aww, that Jackson. My hero.