Welcome again to the Diabetic Partner Follies, the sharing forum for the people who spend their lives with the PWDs (people with diabetes). I'm so glad we launched the Follies, because I for one had NO IDEA what the "others" went through. The variety of experiences never ceases to amaze me!
Take a read below about how seemingly trivial things can loom large when you're under stress. God, if I were the wife in this story, this would so be me!
(Oh, and any and all submissions welcome. Please email to me here.)
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When my husband's hypo episodes happen in the middle of the night, it's usually summertime and it's usually because he's been working in the yard and didn't compensate correctly. Most of the time I can get him out of the hypo by getting him to drink some juice (luckily he sleeps on his side, because I'd never be able to move him.) But, occasionally his teeth are clenched and there is no way I can get the juice in him, so I have to call the paramedics to give him a dose of glucose intravenously. We've tried glucagon, but it makes him very ill, so I don't do that anymore. Once I've determined that I can't do anymore for him - and after I've called 911 - I usually look around my bedroom and say "UGH." Then I frantically clean my room so that the paramedics don't think we're complete slobs. Yes, my husband is on the verge of death and I'm cleaning my bedroom — I know that sounds awful but...
I often think, "Why couldn't he have had this episode after cleaning the house all day long?"
One night we were out to dinner and ran into a man that looked familiar to us, but we really didn't know who he was. He came up to us and said, "The last time I saw you two, was in your bedroom." Needless to say, we were stunned for a bit, until we realized that he was the paramedic that had visited us a few months prior.
I wonder if he noticed how clean my bedroom was?