Creative Nonfiction: The candy war

The candy war
Early in the morning we had taken over the kitchen to make all the desserts and food that would be served for my oldest nephew's birthday. It was not only the cake: a 3 kilos cake decorated with whipped cream and chocolate rain; it was also the cupcakes filled with custard, chocolate rolls and decorated donuts. The boy who would make the fruit cocktails had come and was with us in the kitchen. The music was playing and everything was fun and joyful.
Each of us tasted what was being made to check the touch of sweet, salt, butter:

─Lacks more sugar," my mom could be heard saying. "Put a touch of vanilla in it to give it smell and flavor," she would comment as she tasted the dough. "See if the jellies are ready to decorate."

The guests would arrive at about 4:00 in the afternoon and almost everything was ready, we just had to get ready and welcome those who were arriving.

The party began as planned: the children, with their respective parents, played, danced and savored the delicious delicacies we had made. My mother was in charge of arranging the appetizers on the platters that we then carried to the tables. While we were serving, it was normal for us to taste the pasapalos. Mom would try one, two, three, sweets:

The coconut chocolates were very soft, the quesillos were delicious and the doughnuts lacked cinnamon. -Mom was like a chef in the kitchen.

The children, not knowing much about spices and ingredients, gobbled up the delicacies in no time, leaving only the crumbs on the plates.

The next day, after the party, my mother, who has always woken up early, woke up late. We put it down to post-party fatigue, to all the work she had had to do. My mother looked haggard and pale. She said she felt dizzy and we all thought it might have been the fruit cocktails she had been drinking. The fact is that she lay there all morning and afternoon without knowing that the enemy was taking up space in her body.
At 6 p.m. we could hear my mom throwing up in the room. We all ran out to see what was going on and found the Dantesque spectacle: my mom passed out on the floor with something like white foam coming out of her mouth. Immediately, we called my dad and took her to the clinic. I remember that my mother was unconscious and although she was breathing, she did not respond to our call. It was a terrible few minutes in which we felt that our mother was leaving us.

At the clinic she received the necessary care, while we waited in the waiting room. She had been under observation for about half an hour when a doctor came out and told us that my mother had had a diabetic coma and that thank God she had vomited because if the glucose had risen in her brain, it would have been fatal.

From that day on, my mother discovered that she was diabetic and everyone in my house started a frontal war with sweets.