You don't get training when you become the partner of a diabetic, you just get on with it. Parents of children with diabetes seem to have support available, but not us W.A.G.s. (Mike says I would need different shoes for that title.) Echoing the kids, I have never had a husband who wasn't diabetic, this is how it is, part of married life.
Cooking for a diabetic, I never found a problem, low fat, high fibre, no sugar, simple rules, in fact the only inconvenience is having to take the kitchen scales on holiday. Dealing with the hypo's, that's the tricky bit. I think I have it relatively easy, Mike is a relaxed, gentle soul and even with extremely low blood sugar, does not become aggressive; stubborn, but not aggressive.
Recognising low blood sugar:
You look pale - I'll test - low.
Hungry - test - low.
Words swim on the page - low;
Sweating, eyes glazed over - low.
Slight paranoia, things just don't seem to be going right, that can be quite hard to identify, but mostly there are obvious, early signs, and if Mike doesn't spot it, I will. Falling asleep sitting up is a good one, talking utter nonsense is entertaining and easy to spot provided you're actually listening! Personality changes are sometimes tricky to spot, but if I suggest to Mike to test his glucose levels, he generally will, and then sorts it out himself. It only becomes an emotional roller coaster when Mike's levels drop very quickly or for some reason we just haven't spotted it. Then the fight starts. With us, the battle is psychological, a battle of words, Mike's main word being "No." I have to be patient and persuasive, and I remember how hard that was in the early years, patient and persuasive is a lot to ask when the third 'P', Panic, sets in. There was some shouting, a lot of frustration, a fair bit of begging; none of which Mike could remember anything about afterwards. The experience seemed to be mine and mine alone. I am incredibly grateful to my wonderfully supportive friends and my supremely caring, loving sister, who have always been there for me to talk to and for us as a family to lean on, and on occasion, to distract the children while I force feed their father.
It has become easier with experience, and we will deal with the changes that come with age as they happen, together.
And I still haven't explained about the hammer...