Day 3 of Diabetes Blog Week: Your Biggest Supporter
It may not be Aretha's classic tune but it's just as important. When I think about who is my support, my mind goes straight to Brad. At first I thought, maybe it's lame to always call out your significant other as "the best" anything . . . your best friend, your favorite person, your biggest supporter. Maybe it is. But it's also true. Hey, doesn't the fact that I married the guy mean that I think he's pretty freakin' awesome?
Who else is woken up in the middle of the night by the faint glow of my meter as, in a fog of sleepiness and a low, I check my sugar and then stumble off to the kitchen for some food?
Who stands with me in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, with just the oven light to see by (because all other lights are WAY too bright) as I chug my juice?
Who puts his arms around me and snuggles up with me in the dark on the couch in the living room while we wait to make sure the juice does it's thing so we can go back to bed?
Who deals with the cranky chick who feels like crap because her blood sugar is 300 and she is in the middle of her period (likely the reason for the 300 blood sugar) and nothing she's doing for herself will make her feel any better, except ranting and raving like a lunatic seems to do the trick?
Who patiently waits for that same cranky-pants to run out of steam and even manages to make her giggle after she's made an idiot of herself?
Who lets me sit down and have a real good cry every few years when the whole diabetes game has caught up to me and has just played a little too dirty for a little too long? And when, even though I've had diabetes for close to 20 years, some days it just seems all too fresh and raw. So I break down, throw a pity party, feel crazy for asking "why me?" when I should be used to it all by now. . . while he sits there, holding me, letting me cry and telling me I'm not crazy, it really does suck.
Who (just last night) could make me shed totally different kind of tears when he tells me that he thinks I'm brave and strong, that I'm a fighter who has never let diabetes get in my way, that he's proud of me for taking offense when someone tries to label diabetes as a "disability" and that he thinks the fact that I don't think of myself as a sick person is why I've been able to accomplish so much? (Dude, how much more supportive can you get?)
Who, when we are out to dinner with friends, will sit and wait for me to finish testing my blood sugar, counting my carbs, plug everything in and bolus before he even picks up his fork? While his food sits in front of him getting cold and everyone else as the table is digging in?
When I run out of insulin in my cartridge and it catches me completely by surprise and I need to do an entire set change uber quick because we have some place to be, who knows exactly where all my pump supplies are and exactly what to grab?
And who is my go-fer for all this stuff without me even having to ask, so that I can start the process of ripping out my old site and disconnecting everything?
When I have a scary, panic-inducing, knee-weakening, head-spinning low, who runs and grabs all the things he knows (from experience) that I need to treat with? And who keeps checking my sugar to make sure I'm coming up? And who lets me sit back and zone out (like I always want to do when I'm low and nobody is around but can't let myself)?
Who saw me hit the snooze over and over one morning, not wanting to wake up, all sweaty and disoriented and asked, all knowing-like, "Are you low?" when the thought hadn't even crossed my mind? (I swiftly told him how brilliant he was for nailing that one on the head!)
My husband is not just my biggest supporter, he is my support. My cheerleader. My partner. He has a working pancreas and yet he chooses to do this everyday with me because he loves me. He gets so much about it. We have our own diabetes language. He knows my symptoms, sees them from a different perspective. Knows all the crap that drives me crazy about diabetes and celebrates the little triumphs with me. (Treating a late-night low and waking up to a perfect number? Score!)
I'm seriously so lucky to have found a partner in life who is as kind and supportive as Brad is. And I love that he has never minded being as much of a partner in my diabetes as he can be. If I'm feeling a tad too wobbly to run to the kitchen and grab something to treat a low, he goes for me. If I have to do a quick site change, he grabs the stuff while I prep everything. If I'm in the movies and need some light to check my sugar, he whips out his phone and shines it on my meter. If I'm high and can't seem to get my sugar to budge, he will troubleshoot with me. Do I need his help? No, not really. But is it so, so, so nice to have? Does it make me feel a thousand-times less alone in this thing? Absolutely, one hundred percent, YES.
4 days ago