From all that I have seen, mountains climbed, ditches walked, rivers crossed, continental divides stepped over; there are places and situations I can't get off my mind.
What sticks isn't the grand vistas I have reached but a diabetic grandmother in a wheelchair. Morbidly obese, with oxygen tubes and tank, being pushed around by her family at a festival.
For an hour I watched as her loving family brought her a constant supply of food from the carnival. Her eyes glazed over as she shoveled the treats down, gasping for breath between bites like a baby suckling a milk bottle.
She got up twice. Once to fix the tire on her chair. The rubber had rolled off the rim from her extreme weight, it was quite the effort to twist it back in place. The second time she arose from the chair was to give me a hug for what I am doing for diabetes and that it was a terrible disease.
What's bothering me is that I did not speak up when she said she hoped I can help with a cure.
I just thanked her and walked away.
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