A blissful and relatively solid eight hours of sleep was had last night. Such joy!
Since The Boyfriend and I went to his endocrinologist last Thursday, he hasn’t had an insulin reaction. Granted, I still didn’t sleep on Thursday night, but that had more to do with the wind gusting outside than The Boyfriend’s blood sugar. They’ve made one switch in his insulin, moving his long-acting shot to the morning instead of before he goes to bed. If he does have a drop, it’ll come during the day when he’s awake.
The doctor also recommended that The Boyfriend consider an insulin pump and we’re going to look into that further. Going to these appointments with him is beneficial for me, because I end up learning more about what he’s dealing with, and at the same time, my own emotions over it are validated. Dr. B told The Boyfriend, “Lows are worse on the people taking care of you than they are on you.” Amen, Dr. B.
Which, don’t get me wrong, The Boyfriend knows it’s frustrating for me. And even though it *is* frustrating, I don’t get mad at him for it… as long as I know that he’s trying to manage it better. He hasn’t always done that, but just in the past month, I’ve noticed a difference. He is making a definite effort - even going so far as to curtail the amount of beer he has at band practice. That’s HUGE. I’ve been wanting him to do that for as long as we’ve been seeing each other, but he does things when he’s good and ready to do them and not a minute before. Huh. Kinda like me.
Anyway, it was nice getting some sleep and it was even nicer waking up and realizing that he was just fine. I watched him sleep for a little bit and noticed that for the first time in days, he wasn’t frowning in his sleep. Probably because I wasn’t waking him up every two hours asking if he was ok. 