It's About Us

Saturday night: After a day out in the heat of London and a huge lunch, R and I opted for an evening in with a bottle of wine and some DVDs. We were part way through watching 'Snakes on a Plane' which neither of us had seen in the cinema. I was finding it amusing, but not highly engaging.

My mind wandered. What should we do tomorrow... what things do I need to do this week... what needs to be planned ahead of our trip at the end of the month... my wireless router.

That's the one that held my attention. What use is a wireless router that no longer works without wires? Or worse, one that no longer seems to work at all?

You're right. Absolutely no use.

But that doesn't explain the level of vehemence with which I suddenly chose to attack the small white and silver object right then in the middle of the film, as people on screen were busy battling to save a 747 full of, erm, snakes.

"Babe. Calm down."

"Why should I? Sixty-five quid I paid for that f***ing piece of c**p."

"But you can't do anything about it now" says R, the voice of reason. "Just calm down."

A few more choice words and much tossing around of cables and chargers later, the end credits roll. There is a noticeable silence and air of indifference from R.

"Are you in a mood with me?" I demanded

Slightly exasperated sigh. "No. But I'd prefer a girlfriend who seemed a little more in control of her mood."

"Fine" I said standing up and moving towards the door. "Maybe you should find another girlfriend then" I added, somewhat quieter. "I'm going to bed."

I briefly contemplated testing my blood sugar before sleep, but I still felt too angry. Angry at the stupid wireless router. Angry that I didn't have internet access when I wanted it. Angry that R just obviously couldn't see how important, really important, this was to me at that moment.

Just as my brain slowly engaged into gear, asking the question "Why? Why on earth is it important at all?" I felt an insistent vibration down by my thigh. Reaching beneath the covers, I hauled my pump up to read the screen:

LOW

One quick fingerstick later and  was staring at the number 2.1 (38)

A few more choice expletives, as I realised that the Lucozade bottle beside my bed was empty. I hauled myself out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen. Fumbling for a new bottle with shaking hands it slipped from my grip bouncing once, maybe twice, before rolling away and coming to rest in the middle of the kitchen floor. I picked it up and twisted the top.

It almost seemed to happen in slow motion. A violent hiss and splutter and a fountain of orange foam burst out and upward over my hands, arcing at chest level before hitting the tiled floor with an insistent splatter and forming a vivid orange lake running in sticky rivulets along the cracks between the tiles.

It went everywhere. Diet coke and Mentos have nothing on shaken up Lucozade.

I rested my head on the counter, my hair trailing in the sink, unable to stop the tears anymore. If R hadn't heard the fizz as the bottle cap came off, he certainly must have heard the words that followed from me.  In a second he's behind me, his hands wrapping around me.

"It's OK babe."

"How can it be OK. I don't want this anymore. I don't want to be low anymore. I don't want to behave like this... this monster anymore."

"Let's just get you to drink this" he says, proffering the sticky Lucozade bottle minus a quarter of its contents.

I beat a retreat to bed, leaving R to clean up my mess.

When he eventually joined me, when he'd helped me to clean up my sticky, orange coated feet, the tears came again.

I wasn't just crying for what an idiot I'd been, for the silly row my low blood sugar had caused, for the mess in the kitchen or even just because I had a headache and felt lousy. I wasn't crying because I hadn't spotted the low sooner, or because the CGM hadn't alerted me sooner, or even because R hadn't spotted it - how could he? My blood sugar had been fine one hour earlier and this dimension in my behaviour is one that he, thankfully, hasn't experienced much.

I was crying more because of the realisation that this time my low was affecting someone else as much as it was affecting me.

This isn't just about me anymore. It's about us.

And while I benefit from facing this as a team, where is the benefit for R?

Somehow this makes me hate diabetes even more.

All that R could do was hold me while I cried and reassure me that he isn't going anywhere.

Comments

[Rachel]

The lows are such a small part of a person. This eensy bit, but for some, it scares them away. It didn't scare me away from G and it sounds like R isn't scared either.

[Scott K. Johnson]

Great post Caro.

Sometimes just being there for us in our times of need is the best help we've ever had. And they do it because they care.

[Caro]

Thank you both. I know you're both right.

[Donna]

Oh, it is wonderful to read about someone with diabetes. I have just found your blog and it is such a relief to know I am not alone. I started a blog about my diabetes but didn't keep it up after 2 entries, but I think I will go back and make a proper effort now. Thank you.