Fighting the Unseen: Life With Diabetes

I've been with my current fiance for almost ten years. We met when I was 15 and we've basically "grown up" together. It's weird, but really nice and happy too! He is my best friend through and through and I can talk to him about ANYTHING at all.

I was diagnosed at 14. We went on our first date when I was 15 and a half, to his junior prom at high school (some great blackmail photos there!) After our first date, we kissed. As we were waiting for his mom to pick us up (how romantic!) I told him that I was diabetic and that I didn't really know what it entailed yet (only being T1D for 1.5 years at that time).

His grandfather had T2D at the time, so he felt that he was a little aware of what I was going through. I told him that I didn't need his help with my T1D care, but that I wanted him to know what he was "getting himself into" just in case something happened. He said that he was okay with it and that he would like to take a chance.

I didn't tell him about my lows and highs for two years. I basically pretended that I didn't have T1D at all and clammed up when people asked me about it. Until one day, when I was around 16, I spent the day with my fiance. Suddenly I didn't feel well. But, I thought that if I didn't think about it too much, we would go home and I could get something sweet to drink. We stopped at his grandmother's house on the way home, and I didn't have the strength to walk into her house. I started to fall asleep but knew that I needed to tell someone about what was happening to me- but... I had never involved them in my T1D care before, so they wouldn't've known what to do for me anyway.

I told my fiance that I was tired and we drove back to his mom's house. I lay on the couch and started fiddling with my meter. I couldn't figure out why I could't work the zipper. I couldn't get the blood strips into the meter hole and had dropped about 10 drips of blood onto the carpet- each test strip only half used. My fiance saw what I was doing and helped me pour the blood onto the strip.

The last thing I remember seeing was a reading of 22. I lay half conscious on the couch as I heard him tell his mom what was happening. They didn't know what was going on, so his mom said that he should just "let her sleep, she's probably just tired."

For the life of me, thank goodness he called the ambulance anyway. I was screaming inside my head for someone to help me- but I couldn't move my body.

When the ambulance arrived, I woke up with the taste of chocolate cake frosting in my mouth, my body curled up in his brother-in-law's lap and ER technicians standing over me with a bag of liquids.

If I was more open about my T1D, I would not have been ashamed to admit when I needed help. He definitely saved my life that day.

Even after that, I was only half-open about my diabetes with him... it took three more insulin-shock comas and five bouts with full blown Dka before I could really open up. Now he knows as much about T1D as I do! He researchs on his own time, brings home little pieces of "golden" information for me and offers to help me when I feel stressed and overwhelmed about it.

Just recently, I started taking a new insulin and have been having major swings with it while I figure out the new reactions to it. I was fine all day long, but suddenly very loopy feeling. Despite my slurred non-commital slurs for ice cream, he dragged me across the street to a deserted bakery, knowing full well that the ice cream stand was going to be too busy to serve me fast enough. I was at a dipping 34. Then, as a rebound effect of the danish that I scarfed, I later took a nap and woke up to him testing my blood sugar. I was at 426. He got me out of bed and gently asked me to take my insulin shot.

He doesn't take over my diabetes, but he recognizes when I need help now, and I am so grateful for that support. T1D is chronic and scary and stressful. He shares my worries (even if just a little) so that I can live happier, healthier and more optimistic.

I love him and could not live without him. I know that he doesn't look at me as a burden- and that he understands that I'm trying as hard as I can, that I hate to impose myself on people, that I hate to ask for help, that I hate to be needy- but also that sometimes I need help, in spite of my pride.

He is perfect for me and what I need. 

I'd even venture out to say that he's my soul mate, if you believe in such things.