Well, I never set out to do a diary here but it's beginning to feel that way a bit. A blow by blow of my days and weeks. This morning at 8 AM the doorbell rang and two construction guys walked in to examine our kitchen ceiling. Over the weekend our upstairs neighbors had a small fire on their rooftop garden and over zealous firefighters unintentionally hosed the place down so vigorously her floor is curling, half her walls have been removed and she's been drying out her apt for the last week, and of course it's leaking into ours.
So, our kitchen ceiling has to come down, humidifiers will run for three days, they'll check for moldy sheetrock etc. I ask the pertinent questions like will they replace the ceiling? My husband asks, "Will we be able to use our kitchen? My wife's diabetic and has her supplies here, her insulin in the refrigerator and has to get to food." So nice, I wouldn't have thought of it till they were half way through ripping out the rafters with buckets of water coming down. So here's a celebration to partnership.
I don't know how it's going to go, but I do see how one's diabetes life permeates life at large, the one that's not always neatly contained in our daily routine when all is going according to plan. So, my blood sugar meter's in the bedroom, a few syringes, the insulin's still in the fridge and if need be, I'll fight my way back into the kitchen to get it (in all honesty, they did tell me the kitchen would be accessible throughout the procedure, I'm not perfectly crazy) and, oh yes, we may have to move out for 3 days while the humidifiers run. We've just about lost a week's sleep from the drone of our upstairs neighbor's thrumming machines. I think this is true water torture, and now our own right will be happening in our kitchen, only 15 feet from our bedroom. Think I'll go pack my bag now. Sure could use one of those nifty diabetes bags now for all my supplies. Maybe my next birthday present, along with a new diamond wedding band to commemorate such a supportive husband.