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sometimes I get light-headed and sweaty,” she said.
    “How long have you had diabetes?”
    “I found out about a year ago.”
    Diabetics don’t make enough of their own insulin—the body’s natural hormone for moving sugar from the blood into the body’s cells for energy. If somebody injects too much insulin after not ingesting enough sugar or carbohydrate from a meal, her blood glucose level can take a quick dive. Because sugar is the brain’s main source of energy, Katie’s low brain-sugar level plunged her into an amnesia-driven delirious state, which the orange juice instantly cured, making her sane once again. It wasn’t a huge psychiatric achievement, but I had given her the right treatment—even though I didn’t know it at the time.
    “I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I’ve always been such a health freak.”
    “Being a health freak is a good thing, but it won’t help you control your diabetic symptoms if you don’t stay on top of your blood-sugar levels. You’re playing with fire, and if you’re not careful, it can kill you.”
    “You sound like my mother. She’s always accusing me of messing with my insulin so I can stay thin for acting parts. How ridiculous.”
    I noticed that she was very slender and wondered if it really was so ridiculous. “I certainly don’t mean to sound like a parent. I just want to be sure you know the facts about diabetes. When you get it at your age, it’s usually inherited,” I said.
    “Well, my aunt got diabetes when she was about forty, but she was overweight and worked in Dad’s bakery.”
    Judy came in with a sandwich for Katie and handed me the lab results. As I suspected, Katie’s blood-glucose level had been forty-five—well below the normal range.
    “Katie, I want you to meet Judy; she’s been taking care of you tonight. Judy, this is Katie Genaro. She lives with her parents in the North End. You know Genaro’s? That’s their family bakery.”
    “Oh my God.” Judy swooned. “Your father’s biscottis are my downfall.”
    “Thank you for the clothes and stuff. I’m sorry if I acted all crazy.”
    “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. You came to the right place. I’m just outside if you need anything.”
    I hoped Judy would take my cue about Genaro’s and get in touch with Katie’s parents. They were probably worried sick over their daughter’s whereabouts and would come pick her up.
    “Katie, you were standing on your head when I first got here.” I avoided mentioning the naked part so as not to embarrass her further.
    She laughed. “Oh my God, I take yoga and sometimes I do headstands to relax.”
    Katie started eating her sandwich, and I stepped out to the hallway to write up my notes. Her headstand appeared to be psychologically insignificant, and I also thought she should have an endocrinologist and nutritionist consult on her diabetes management. Judy told me that Mr. and Mrs. Genaro were on their way. After about ten minutes, I checked back in on Katie, who was resting on the gurney with her hands covering her face.
    “What’s the matter, Katie?” I asked.
    She wiped the tears from her face, “My whole life is a mess. I can’t handle this diabetes thing. I’m trying to be an actress and pay for my own acting classes, but there’s just no pleasing my mother.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “What happened tonight will just be another disappointment to her. That’s all I seem to do,” she said. “She thinks being an actress is a joke, an excuse to skip college and be a waitress all my life. And it’s ironic because she used to be an actress too.”
    My pager went off with my next emergency. I could see that Katie was going to be a much more complicated case than just an E.R. consult. I felt like moving on—I’d had my orange-juice victory, and if I stayed, I’d have to get involved and wrapped up in Katie’s family and medical issues.A part of me wanted to quit while I was ahead. I wasn’t sure I could be the