It's a "he". My close friends here know I'm a divorced mom, with some dates and some relationships since the divorce, using theinternet as the only way to meet.

So, I met. A guy who's older and has diabetes. A man who looked vital and alive, and has a twinkle in his eye that says "I'm alive and my ticker is ticking!"

But his diabetes was way out of control and he seemed a disaster about to happen. I felt this was something I did notneed, and gave him an ultimatum: 3 months to start taking care of himself; that's the most I'd date him without him helping himself and caring for himself properly. Three months seemed reasonable. After 6 weeks, he had a stroke.

Some of you who know me, know my strings get tugged by someone in need, and I could not walk. But the story of getting him treatment, ending this week with a carotid endarterectomy, after the decision to do a triple bypass at the same time was nixed at the last minute, is a story beyond belief, and I'm past the point where I can tell it for its shock value or pathos.

Needless to say, South Jersey is not well served mdically, and if you can't drive, you can't do anything, including getting your meds; and if you've got aphasia, you can't even write down the times of your appointments, or doses of meds. It was a mess.

The only thing to be said for it is that if you press, you can get people to the right hospital by advocating for them, and I got him over to a university hospital from the community hosiptal which was going to let him die from their neglect and ignorance. Also, when you care for someone and there are results, even when you're in pain yourself, it doesn't feel nearly as depleting as you'd think. In fact, somewhat the opposite. The more you give and help, the less you feel your own pain.

I just had to deal. I told myself that even though I'm agnostic, if the Force, Spirit, or G-d had sent me this totally outwardly unsuitable guy, and made him this sick this quickly, then there was a reason we met, and I had a mission. I needed to just do what I could do, and not question what it meant, in the traditional dating sort of way. I just had to do it, and do it as long as it felt right.

It was an odd experience, nourishing, deep, difficult, frustrating, and rewarding. It was also incredibly, almost inconsolably sad. This man was walking around with blood sugars over 300 for years, and his nurse practitioner was telling him he was doing fine. Not.