After I told James I had diabetes, I literally would try to talk him out of dating me.
My pump will alarm all night.
I will always have to wear this thing.
My finger tips have weird scars.
You might have to save my life.
I’m not very sweet when my blood sugar is high.
I say stupid things when I’m low.
I get sweaty and clammy if I have a low in the middle of the night.
I always will need insulin.
Diabetes is expensive.
I might die well before you.
He would always respond with something he loved about me or a reassurance that he could deal with it………
My cell and CB radio go off in the middle of the night.
I always have to have my work gear with me too.
Your scars look like constellations.
I save lives for a living.
I love your laugh and how I know exactly what you’re thinking by the look on your face.
I love your big heart and how strong you are.
You also can hold your own at the gun range and make an amazing tortilla soup.
We’ll make it work.
Then we better get started on making memories.
Those things don’t matter to me….you do.
He finally asked me why if I normally wouldn’t let diabetes limit me on anything else…. why was I trying to let it stop me from this? No matter what reason I threw at him, he would reassure me that he didn’t see those things, all he saw was……me.
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