Forget that sweet tooth you always had. If you intend to keep it, you’ll be reduced to eating chocolate bars under the covers and hiding the wrappers in your bra.
Well, that’s what’s happening to me, anyway.
Hubby has a recent diagnosis of diabetes after a life of eating whatever the hell he wanted because he had a “fast metabolism”.
Now it’s diabetic meal plans, diabetic friendly sweets, and asking for a diabetic friendly menu each time we go out. Our food cupboard now resembles the health aisle in an organic health store!
I hate that the “for worse” part of my vows seem to be coming in faster than the “for better” bit! I hate that I have to remind him to take his meds, drink his water, exercise and not eat the wrong things!
I feel like I’m mothering him as well. Men make notoriously bad patients and I only have so much patience. A lifetime of telling him he really doesn’t need a second helping of everything on the buffet is enough!
So now it’s crunch time.
I don’t resent him, I resent the illness. I resent it because he’s my big,strong, capable guy. The one who could pick me up, swing me around and make me feel good for days.
What I have now is a shadow of the man I married. The zest is gone; replaced by fatigue. The easygoing nature is gone, to be replaced by adherence to a medicine schedule and a finger prick! The bright future we’d once dreamed of is now overshadowed by uncertainty.
And all because of diabetes.
I can’t blame my husband because he has a strong family history of it. Almost all his siblings have it. Obesity is also a thing, as are huge family dinners consisting of all the carbs and starches. Both his parents had it.
So he really should have known better.
So here I am seesawing between abject dejection and outright pissed off- ness! Some days I’m sweetness and light and making sure he gets all the things he needs. Other days I’m glowering in resentment. This wasn’t supposed to happen gawdammit!
What I guess I’m saying, is that diabetes doesn’t just affect the sufferer. The spouse also has to learn to deal with a lot of what’s happening. It’s not easy seeing your rock crumble. It’s not easy being on emergency standby all the time. It’s not easy having to explain to your 10 year old that she can’t eat that ice cream because she has to show restraint in front of her dad. Maybe later?
What makes it worse are the days when he slips. The days when he forgets to drink water every half hour. When he double dishes the creamy chicken Parmesan. The days when he doesn’t feel like working out. Those are the days when I want to scream,” Well, fuck it all up then!” Those days are the hardest.
Because I have to remind myself that he is not diabetes. Diabetes does not define our relationship. I have to remind myself of all the reasons to stay on it, to beat diabetes together, because one day I’ll need support too.
Until next I blog,