Life with a diabetic

Most work is measured in terms of the man-hours required to complete it. Whether that be at the office, on a job-site or even at home with your favorite home-improvement project. Early on in our marriage my wife and I developed a new metric for such measurements.

One night we were working to put together a set of storage shelves--much like this, only metal requiring numerous screws and bolts--together. What should have been an easy job turned into a long, drawn out affair that took twice as long as it ought.

When asked the next day about how long it took to put together, my joking response was "Three hours, two arguments and one hypoglycemic reaction." Ever since, this particular metric has served us well in measuring just how effective we are at accomplishing things around the house.

Diabetes can be a messy disease. Despite best efforts to control it, there will be highs and there will be lows. When they come, the quicker the recognition of what the problem is and why it is will do most to ensure getting through it without major difficulty. If the subtler signs are missed you will often find yourself in the middle of an Ugly Diabetic Moment.

Today was the ugliest such moment we've had in quite a while. Not as ugly as watching my diabetic uncle screaming at my aunt about how he was going to kill her while in the middle of a particularly bad hypoglycemic moment when I was 9, but ugly enough.

It was something that resulted in lots of screaming and more than one thing said in anger that would never have been uttered otherwise. In short, one of those ugly moments that you're glad aren't more common.

Despite the best efforts of doctor and patient, hypoglycemic episodes are an inevitable fact of life for a diabetic. I do as much as I can in the face of circumstances to navigate through high blood glucose values, the effects of stress and work and even a walk with the dogs on my body.

For the most part, I do a pretty good job. Much better than I was doing the night we put together our first set of two-argument shelves. Even so, there are moments and they often come at the least-expected times, where I simply can't avoid the problem and an Ugly Diabetic Moment ensues.

As much as I dislike the position I am in as patient, I do not envy my wife's position and role in my care. I'm the one that must act, she can only watch while encouraging and trying to help when necessary.

When days like today happen, the level of frustration she must feel, I think escapes me. The real question isn't, "Why doesn't it overwhelm her more," but rather, "Why doesn't it overwhelm her more often?"

I wish there were a way to totally eliminate the issue; there just isn't.

Unfortunately, such is nature of life with a diabetic.