It may seem silly but I assumed in all this time he knew diabetes like I did. I can’t even tell you why I thought he would learn 39 years of living with Type 1 diabetes as I have experienced by observing signs, symptoms and random sharing of how I feel in certain situations. He has never had formal education in the less than 4 years we have been together.
The moment I understood I need to share my life with diabetes more?
We arrived in Lima, Peru.
After settling on the last leg of our journey we decide to head out in search of a few markets and sites for some art pieces.
On the way back, my pump alarms that my sensor is telling me my blood sugars is 4 mmol/L. My sugar is going down. Stupidly, I have no sugar on me…Steve is so good he usually does have lifesavers in his pocket…but he has none.
I feel it is lower than 4 mmol/L. But I am stubborn. Steve asks if I want him to go into a store and get sugar. I say it’s OK .
First, when my sugar trends towards low but I feel like I am not in danger, I don’t treat with rapid acting sugar, I set a temporary basal rate. I think it’s a control thing. I want to change the stupid system that really works…just to see if I can make it better. I am so anti-sugar….I really want to take it…mental block.
So…I say to Steve, it’s okay, I’ll set a temp rate.
And we keep walking.
And several minutes later I become dull. And quiet. I lack my bubbly, sunshine Type A personality.
Steve knows but doesn’t know. He hasn’t experienced such an extreme moment like this.
I personify strength. Knowledge. Power. Ability. I am never the victim. He trusts that. Even thought his gut tells him different.
So he trusts me and my choice.
Until I mumble I want ice cream. And he asks further questions. And I am indecisive and vague.
We end up in a grocery store a few blocks away from our hotel. He asks me several times what I want to get….I don’t know. In my mind I want to ask him to help me. Save me from this terrible prison in my mind of wanting to be in control. Not to ask for help. I will take care of myself. I won’t confess I have failed. I won’t ask. I refuse. I won’t. I have done this since I was a little girl. My (mis)behaviour trumps my voice.
I am no good to anyone. I know it. I am too far gone to say that.
Steve finally suggests and I agree.
We pay out at the cash and I inhale.
Many minutes later Tracy returns.
Later that night we debrief. He tells me…”I knew, but I didn’t because you know!”, but I did. And I failed to tell him. Thankfully he saw it today. Exactly what I just described.
He tells me “…from now when when you say “It’s okay, I’ll set a temporary basal rate.” I am going to pop into a store and buy some candies.”
And he will tell me. “You need this candies”. And I now I will take them. Regardless of how bad I want to be in control. Because, we have this consensual contract.
It’s good to share my diabetes. A liberation. Enlightening. It is a relief to give a very small piece of it to someone else. Even though it is only a very small piece of what my mind thinks of 24-7-365, if feels good. Despite how much control I want. And how hard it is to let go.