Feeling Isolated - When You're with Him

DH and I just got back from seeing the last Harry Potter flick.  I admit it - I am and always have been a rabid Harry Potter fan.  I have every book and most of the DVD's.  I LOVED the final movie and felt high as the proverbial kite after seeing it and could not stop chattering like a squirrel or maybe a delighted school kid.

But my intended audience simply wasn't there. It wasn't like this hasn't happened before.  It has, many times.  But today, somehow, it hurt more.  The first time, I was happily chattering about a particular scene that had delighted me.  He was making listening noises and then exploded with "THAT SOB!!! They shouldn't let people like that on the road!"  So I tried to steer the conversation back to Harry Potter, only to get derailed seconds later by another storm of outrage about some other driver.  After a third try, I just gave up and stayed quiet.  He didn't bring the subject up either, so I realized that he hadn't really even been present to the conversation that I had been so excited about.

That hurts.  Here I thought we were sharing a wonderful  adventure together.  He wasn't even there.  Do I just need to buck up and learn to be a grown up about things like this? Quit talking about things that matter to me? Just pull up the big-girl panties at age 64 and keep stumbling along?

First "low sugar" crisis today - I think.

I had to get an MRI on my shoulder (I've had surgery on it before and think I have re-injured it.  Oh boy.)  Anyway, DH offered to drive me to the MRI facility.  As we were waiting for me to be called, he mentioned that he was hungry.  I told him I thought there was a snack dispensing machine around the corner in the same building.  Then they called me back for the MRI.

The doggone procedure took twice as long as it should have because I needed to take deep breaths, but couldn't, and despite my best efforts, apparently I fidgeted inside that long cylindrical gizmo.

By the time I got back, DH had not, of course, even gone to look for the snack vending machine.  He announced that he was light-headed, felt terrible, and HAD to get something to eat IMMEDIATELY.  I knew where there were several fast-food places if he turned left, off the street from the medical facility, but he insisted on turning right (where I never go, so I had no idea of what might be there.)  So we are passing all these stores - Target, Kohl's, Lowe's - but noplace to get any food.  And he is keeping up this constant bellowing about how he is getting fainter and fainter.  This was not much fun, as he was driving. (I'm afraid I was a little cynical, though.  I figured that if he had enough energy left to bellow like that, he wasn't quite as faint as he was claiming. Am I wrong?)

Finally, we saw a McDonald's and turned in there.  He got his food and seemed to bounce back very quickly after two cheeseburgers, a packet of fries, and a sugar Coke.  (I vowed to myself on the spot that I would keep something non-perishable in the car at all times, like those Nature Valley Granola Bars that don't have a chocolatey coating  and won't turn to slime inside a hot car.)

I don't like to be in the car with him anyway, because invariably, other drivers do things that set him off and make him want to "teach them a lesson."  For 20 years, I have pointed out that this is not a good idea and that they probably would not be receptive students.  Sometimes, he listens - sometimes not.

Is this what a "low sugar" meltdown really looks like?

Tired of being the chew toy. . .so I bit back.

My husband has been "different" ever since he was diagnosed with diabetes, and it hasn't been that long ago.  He hates being reminded that there are limits now on what he can eat - and I don't imagine this is fun for a food addict - and he gets very surly and critical.

I've tried very hard to take small steps rather than large, traumatic ones - toward goals like getting him to eat smaller portions of things, not having three or for forms of carbs with a single meal, switching away from sugary sodas, things like that.  Sometimes he has been cooperative.  Many times, he has been belligerent and quite unpleasant.

After a fairly unpleasant week, I happened to remark last night (and I don't even remember what led up to it, but it was a natural segue), "You know, this marriage has been different from the very beginning.  I have always known that I had the resources to just head out the door and keep on going.  I wouldn't want to, of course, because I love you and you are a very special person.  But I know that I can stand on my own two feet and survive if I have to."

He didn't seem to react at all at that time, so I let it go.  Today, he remarked (after being exceptionally pleasant all day) that I had seemed "snippier" and he wondered why.  I couldn't really remember being "snippy," but I had made a point of spending more time by myself than usual today.

He finally said something about "Maybe I've been cranky lately, and you just decided to get cranky back." I just shrugged and said, "Well, maybe, but I don't like being cranky.  Do you?"  He said that no, he didn't, and the evening ended on a fairly up-beat note.

After reading what so many of you had said about how the moodiness and nastiness just get worse and worse, I thought I would put him on notice that I wasn't going to put up with it.  Maybe the message got through.  We shall see.

"Post-prandial" is now a fightin' word. . .

I was a medical transcriber in a previous lifetime (like 40 years ago) so I have known this word for a long time.

DH only learned of it recently in connection with his diabetes.  Earlier tonight I happened to make a remark about "Post-prandial sleepiness" after a wonderful supper.  DH responded angrily - "Every time you use that word, I feel like you are poking at me for eating too much!!"

EXCUUUUUSE ME???  It's just a fancy medical word that means "after eating."  There is absolutely NO judgement tied into it, either overt or covert.  What the heck?  Does diabetes trip over into Paranoia-land sometimes, too???

Sorry, the diner is closed now.

DH has gotten himself into the habit of wanting a "fourth meal" before he goes off to bed, and he won't settle for a snack.

Tonight, it was well past his normal bedtime and he was getting that glazed-eyed look - not really paying attention to TV, not really into conversation, not reading. . .I thought, "Any second now, he will go off to bed and I can dash to the computer room and play!"  (I know that sounds mean and uncaring, but that's life.)

Then he started in about wanting something to eat.  I offered several of the standard snacks: a handful of grapes, a peach, a handful of almonds, etc.  No dice. He wanted a giganticus PIZZA.  I told him flatly that this was way too much and he wasn't allowed to have something like that.  He already had a balanced dinner.

He bitched and bickered, bitched and bickered, and finally settled on a ham-and-cheese sandwich.  So I made him a sandwich and tried to settle back down on the sofa.  Before I could do so, he asked for "something to drink."  And then it was "Can I have some Cheeze-Its?" And then: "Please, I need a napkin."  And then it was green onions, a dill pickle, and pretzels.  With each request, he seemed to get more frantic; he did NOT want me to sit down!

When I headed for the sofa again, he looked like he was about to cry. I said, "What's the matter?"  He said, "I don't know, I just want - MORE - and if you sit down again, I won't have the heart to ask you to get up again and get it - and I don't even know what I want!"

I tried to stay calm, and said, "Well, I think you've probably had enough now anyway.  I bet if you just let it settle, you'll feel full and that will be enough." I took the now-empty plate and glass away and put them in the kitchen, and sat down and opened my book with an air of finality.

So here I am, stewing at the computer.  He is probably angry at himself for overeating - AGAIN - and I let him do it.

I hope he gets his act together before I have to go on dialysis, because I won't be playing waitress any more.  I have my own dietary rules to follow.  I can't be responsible for his, too.

So hubby had a rotten day at work. . .

I didn't even TRY to get between him and his food.  I'd like to think I am learning a healthy sense of self-preservation.

He was extremely angry about some things that had transpired at work.  At first, he wasn't even going to tell me about it, so I didn't ask; I just made listening noises, allowing him to vent, and eventually got the whole story.  Of course, by then, he had eaten significant amounts of potato salad, sweet cole slaw, pretzels, peanut butter, a glass of sparkling grape juice that we had left over from the 4th, and I forget what else. . .

I feel like I ought to be fighting harder, but it seems like that would just set up more resistance, and as others have pointed out, I am neither his mother nor his keeper. We are in this together and I'm here to help, but I can't do it all by myself.

Lab-stuff question

What does "A1C" mean?  It was on my husband's last lab test report.  Our doctor had his idiot assistant just read DH the lab results over the phone, and she might as well have been speaking Ancient Sumerian or something.  And it doesn't do any good to ask HER anything, because she doesn't know. (I have no idea how she got hired or why she remains employed, but that's another story.)

The only numbers I know anything about are the sugar ones, where if it's over 100 or so you need to pay attention.

What other kinds of numbers should I know about? There is so much we don't know. . .