I love my husband.  I loved him when I married him, and through life’s trials and tribulations, I’ve come to love him more.  I didn’t even realize how much until a few weeks ago.

He’d not been feeling well, and was plagued with some symptoms that made me uneasy:  overwhelming thirst, rapid weight gain, headaches, loss of energy.  I did what every wife would do:  nagged him until he made an appointment with our physician.

When his blood tests came back showing a fasting blood glucose level of over 400, I was panic stricken.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with blood sugar, it should be under 100, and 140 is cause for intervention.  400 is unimaginable.  Had he been mainlining high fructose corn syrup?  Holy cotton candy, Batman!

Have I mentioned that my husband loathes needles?  He can’t even watch other people get shots.  Now we both needed to learn how to give insulin injections.

I reacted with the calm, reasoned logic that I’m known for.  I went through the pantry and refrigerator like a hurricane.  Doritos in the garbage.  Christmas candy that I had JUST MADE got boxed up and sent to my son.  White potatoes, white bread, white rice, white towels, White Christmas….threw them all out.

I started lecturing the importance of breakfast before he even got his first cup of coffee down each morning, and didn’t shut up until he was ingesting eggs.  I pored over recipes.  I learned how to make kale chips.  I took the chocolate out of the house.  Let me repeat that:  I TOOK THE CHOCOLATE OUT OF THE HOUSE.

I tested my own blood glucose, and tried not to gloat when it registered an amazingly healthy 94.  However, in a show of support, I decided that I would adhere to the same food restrictions that he needed to learn to live with.

I can now say that I love this man more than potato chips, Christmas cookies, and my famous French Silk Pie.  I can also say that I’ve come a long way in learning to give injections, and have only left a couple of bruises.  Finally, I can also breathe a little easier because the numbers are now in the 200’s, an occasionally in the 190’s.  He’s still got a war to wage, but the battles are going in his favor.

Please, God, don’t let his cholesterol go up.  I don’t want to make a decision between him and bacon.