No diabetes

Emily Coles on Tudiabetes asked the PWDs of the DOC, “What would you do with a diabetes-free day?” I tried to think of something interesting; something amazing; something that would just be so much cooler than anyone else’s answer. He tried to think. Sadly, I kept coming back to some fairly normal answers.

For starters, I’m sleeping until 10AM. I’m not getting up because my blood sugar is going to be too low if I sleep any more. I’m not rushing to check my blood sugar at 6AM because I usually eat breakfast at that time. I’m not getting up to pee in the middle of the night and wondering if I that means my blood sugar is high. Not only that, but Mamma is sleeping too. I know she worries about me at night especially.

I’m going to eat and play. I’m filling my freezer full of ice cream, and I’m filling my dinning room full of pizza. I’m making up for every birthday party where Papá had to sit down for a second because we played to much, or Papá was getting angry because he ate too much pizza and ice cream. Tata, Squishy, and I are playing until they both pass out from pure exhaustion.

I’m hiring a baby sitter to watch the girls after they go to bed, and I’m taking Mamma to dinner and dancing. That could get ugly. I don’t care. Mamma loves to dance, and he makes the robot look graceful. And it would be nice to be able to give her my full attention when she is trying to show me how, instead of me trying to determine if I have enough sugar to make it through the song.

I’m caring candy in my pocket, and I’m going to eat it just because I want to. He does that already. No, I eat it because my hands and mouth have been working together for so long, they often forget to tell my brain what they are doing. Then, I get to worry about how much I ate, because I wasn’t counting the pieces or Reese’s while I was eating them.

The truth of the matter is, if I have a diabetes free day, I am giving as much of it to my family as possible. I don’t believe for a second that I am the one that suffers the most from my diabetes. When I’m low, I don’t even know I have diabetes, and when I am high, I get so angry I couldn’t care about it. All the while, my family gets to watch from the line of scrimmage. It may be my pancreas that has gone into early retirement, but my wife and my daughters are the ones suffering the most.