Today is my wedding anniversary. My husband and I were married in 1999. I’ve written a lot in past posts about my husband and how much he has been there for me. In my life there are two main things, my husband and my diabetes. My husband is so important by choice, my diabetes simply because it is my lot in life.
It’s no secret to my regular readers that diabetes has ripped me a new one emotionally my entire life. It’s torn me up on every level. It’s also no secret to my regular readers how much stronger my husband has helped me to be. He’s helped me to face this disease and work to overcome it.
He’s my rock.
I admire those diabetics that do not have significant others. Those that rely solely on themselves for care of all kinds. That’s real strength right there. I could survive just fine with the physical and mental stuff, but emotionally I need someone to lean on, someone to share with, someone to talk to, someone to hold me when I cry and let me know I’m not alone and everything will be OK. And this is why I am so grateful for my husband. I am quite aware that you do not need a lover for these things, and sometimes even if you do they just aren’t supportive. But this is where I found my support.
There was a time a couple years ago when I had just recovered, and in some ways still was recovering, from heart surgery. I was experiencing severely low blood sugars in the middle of the nights. Every single time my husband would wake up and know from my subtle twitches and vocal grunts that I was having a low. He would jump out of bed and get right to work treating me.
On more than one occasion, in my altered mental state I would begin to cry, I mean really bawl. I would panic and worry and cry over the most random things. Most of the time my husband wouldn’t quite be able to follow my logic and understand my words, but he knew I wasn’t in my right mind anyway and he would just speak calmly and stay on the task of getting me to eat.
I do remember on two occasions though, as I was coming out of my lows I still had the thoughts and feelings I had been crying about. You know what they were? I was frightened that my husband didn’t love me anymore. I was worried he’d had enough of dealing with my diabetes and was going to leave me. I felt guilty and ashamed for dragging him into my messed up life and condemning him to a life of having to take care of, and pay for, a type 1 diabetic. And I was sorry I was going to die first and leave him all alone.
If he ever did understand what I was saying and crying about in these hypo fits, he’s never mentioned it.
I have told him while in my right mind, though, that I’m sorry he has to go through all of this. He’s always said he loves me and would go through anything with me. He hasn’t lied about how frightening it is when I have a hypo, or end up in the hospital for any number of reasons. He worries all the time.
But the thing about true love is that no matter how much shit you end up in, you’d never want to be anywhere else if it meant not being there with your love.
One reason I try so hard to be healthy is so that I can relieve some of the stress on my husband’s shoulders (this is why I got my CGM). If I’m healthy, then he has less to worry about. If I didn’t have him to worry about me, and I didn’t love him so much, then I wouldn’t try so hard to be healthy.
because gods know I don’t give a shit about myself…