Flawed Marriage, Doomed From the Start
Diabetes and I have had it rough since day one. In fact, it can kind of be thought of like a pre-arranged marriage. One in which diabetes was deeply in love with me and me not so much with it. In fact, had there been a cure in any one of the 50 states, I would’ve gone and gotten a divorce as soon as I found out we were married. *drums: ba da bop*
Diabetes marriage to me wasn’t like that of Salvatore’s in “The Wedding Planner”. You know, the one where he had to marry Mary’s mom due to a pre-arrangement and he was in love with some other woman and yet he grew to love the one he had married, and his love began when he was lying in bed deathly ill and she sat there by him he began to appreciate her.
I appreciated her.
Then the appreciation grew to respect.
Respect grew to like.
Then like grew to love.
A deeper love than I could ever hope for.
We’ve heard the deathly ill story before, what diabetic hasn’t. But as diabetes sat there by my side gripping my pancreas, there was no appreciation for that. There definitely has been no respect for diabetes either, he’s not respected, his territory isn’t respected, what he’s done isn’t respect, yup, definitely not any respect. And where’s there’s no respect how can there ever be like, and where there’s no like, there can’t be love. I can say however there’s a deeper hate than most people will ever feel in their life.
Diabetes and I would’ve slept in different rooms had it been possible. If I had to live with it, there was no reason that I should have to sleep with. He’s been put in the dog house while I enjoy the every day pleasures of normal life, except for the fact that like any couple that’s having marital problems the problem always returns. I’ll have the bed all to myself and the next thing I know diabetes is back in it with me and I’m having a hypoglycemic seizure. I’ll be out with friends and out of the blue diabetes appears and I have to take a moment to fight with it. I’ll be making a meal, something diabetes doesn’t like, but it doesn’t matter because diabetes isn’t around, and oh damn, diabetes appears, ready for dinner as though I should’ve been making it to include him all along.
Kind of funny if you think about it, diabetes and I are the married couple that is have marital problems and counseling isn’t working. Yes, we’ve been to counseling, I think we did what most couples do when they go to counseling (from what I’ve seen in the movies of course) we’ve denied our problems (we being me, because diabetes tells you that there’s no problem at all, oh wait, that is denial isn’t it…yes, we’ve denied our problems, both of us). We’re not even exactly sure how long we’ve been together, I vaguely remember getting it sometime before the 4th of July in 1992, but that could’ve been June or July. I pull random dates out of my head and diabetes doesn’t argue, June 11, 1992. But then again, if you were with me, you wouldn’t argue either, as a Courtney is always right.
This is the perfect place for a clip from Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I think that movie in a way does an excellent job of displaying me and diabetes, this is what Mrs. Smith had to say in one instance and in the case of me and diabetes, it would be diabetes speaking:
There’s this huge space between us. And it just keeps filling up with everything that we don’t say to each other.
Yes, diabetes and I have this huge space between us and it’s because I don’t talk about it, but we’re improving, I’ve been pouring out all my feelings, ok, maybe not all of them, out on my blog, and diabetes can always read my blog, I don’t have to tell him directly what’s going on, right? Diabetes speaks to me all the time, hey guess what you’re going to go blind this morning your blood sugar is low. Hey how about vomiting some green acid from the bottom of your stomach you’re going into diabetic ketoacidosis. You, how about some extra bit of emotions today, because you haven’t had enough, oh am I sending mixed messages, yes, you could be low or you could be high. Yes, diabetes talks to me. But he’s fairly cruel when he does so I don’t feel so bad about not talking to him.
We’ve tried the temporary separation thing, or rather, I’ve tried the temporary separation thing with diabetes, and I say temporary because it just won’t stay gone for long. And really, that’s me in denial because it’s never really gone, but let me be in denial for the purposes of this piece. The truth is, diabetes is like the kid that’s screaming “mommy don’t leave me” as you’ve dropped them off at daycare for the day so that you can go to work and afford to have the little brat (I don’t really feel like that towards kids, but roll with me here, as I am on a roll, that and I do feel that way about diabetes). They’re hanging onto your leg and in the event that someone actually is successful in tearing them off of you, you are so fortunate as to return to them in the evening.
I try extra hard to separate myself from diabetes, in fact, in a conversation a couple weeks ago there was an amusing bit about my separation from diabetes. It was all because of my handle on Twitter, it was RideToRemedy because I was going to twitter my blood sugars and diabetes crap, but then because life is as it is, life got twittered and this conversation happened:
Friend: What’s with your handle?
Me: It was for my diabetes
Friend: And?
Me: And I was going to twitter it and keep it separate from my real life but it didn’t work out so well
Friend: And what, diabetes is in your fake life?
No, in my fake life, I have prince charming, and I enjoy being around prince charming and I love prince charming. Diabetes is in my real life, thanks for reminding me. Yeah, I try to separate my life from diabetes. It doesn’t work out to well for either of us.
In fact, I’ve gone as far as trying to kill diabetes, but diabetes bites back and it has tried to kill me. Now, it’s about as much of a crime for me to kill diabetes as it is a crime for diabetes to kill me which I’m sure in any of the 50 states isn’t a crime at all so much as it is a sad medical death. Well for me it would be a sad medical death, for diabetes, it would be…a miracle, it would be a miracle if death came to diabetes. I know, I’m such an evil wife to diabetes, but can you really blame me, at all, for any of it?
2 Responses to “Flawed Marriage, Doomed From the Start”
Leave a Reply
[...] and me not so much with it. In fact, had there been a cure in any one …article continues at Ride to Remedy brought to you by diabetes.medtrials.info and [...]
Diabetic Ketoacidosis…
Your blog makes very interesting reading. I’m sure others will think so too I look forward to reading their comments….