I've changed. It has altered my senses, my thoughts, my heart.
it has made me a better listener. My ears perk up when I hear the beep
from his glucometer. I wonder what number will appear. When the
cabinet door is heard creaking open, I know a snack is being searched
for. When he is out playing in the neighborhood, I listen for the front
door; for his return. My ears always primed for the quick, brisk,
quietly stated "I feel low". It's not the actual words, it's how he
says them, the tone and the speed in which they are delivered, that's
how I know he will, indeed, be low.
My hearing, my listening, has improved.
it has made my sense of touch more keen. My fingers know the roughness
of his calloused, blistering finger. He has a favorite one to poke.
It becomes so calloused, it blisters, then it peels. Glucometers,
lancing devices, and test strips, I know them all by touch. They are
felt for in the darkness of our nights; they help insure his safety.
Yes, my somatic senses have been put to the test.
it has made me see things a bit more clearly. The unsteadiness of his
hands, the pallor of his skin, or the quiver of his lip, telling me he
should check. While out and about, my eyes search for
"same", looking for pump tubing poking out of pant pockets, or POD
bumps, or glucometers. Finding "same" makes me feel more normal; more typical. It's comforting.
My eyes. They don't miss much.
my definition of hope has evolved over the years. At first, I was
reluctant to hope not wanting to feel disappointed. More importantly, I
wanted to protect him from it; the disappointment of wanting a cure,
waiting for a cure, only to learn no cure will be found. Now, I have hope. I
am hopeful for better treatments in his lifetime. A cure, I am hopeful
for that too.
I'm not afraid to show him hope. I want him to have it.
Perhaps, just perhaps, it has made me more aware. The unfairness is not lost on me. It's part of his everyday. I know.
Finally.. there is....
My heart. I know it has made my heart stronger, as it has had to mend many breaks because of it.
The day-in-the-life has changed me.