wallpaper.

I have been cured of diabetes.

True, I didn't actually have it, but I was deeply involved with someone who did, and the disease was a huge part of my life for a while there. But then we broke up, and diabetes hasn't bothered me since.

I knew how to count carbs before Atkins became so ubiquitous that you couldn't even go to a den of unhealthy eating like Mickey D's without seeing some reference to limiting carbohydrates. I knew how to count carbs because I went to diabetic school, a night course offered at the hospital, back when he was misdiagnosed and they were trying to treat him with diet adjustment alone.

Diabetes is a nasty thing. You think maybe it's not so bad because it's very common and has been around for a long time. The worst thing people think about it is that you can't eat sweets. You can eat sweets. You can also go blind, have to get a limb amputated, and develop heart disease. Although I suppose when you are blind and wheelchair-ridden, you have more time to eat sweets. It is a multi-system disease, and it affects everything.

Diabetes is a nasty thing, but it's more like ugly wallpaper than a hole in the roof. It starts out as this hideous thing that seems to ruin everything around it, but then slowly your eyes adjust and you don't even notice it anymore. You deal with it. And so it just became part of his life, just another thing, and also another thing in mine. I don't mean to imply in any way that I felt at all what he felt. It was ugly wallpaper that I saw a lot, but at least it wasn't my house.

I went to the endocrinologist appointments with him. I carted around his glucose monitor and insulin cartridges in my purse and had to explain to bouncers why I had syringes on me when we went to concerts and my bag was searched. I stopped everything to get him a candy bar or a soda or something, just anything with sugar, STAT. I picked up his prescriptions at the drug store. I found countless discarded glucose test strips in my car and apartment. I read articles about life expectancy and research and genetics. I don't regret doing any of these things in the least. Even when it was a hassle, it was just part of the package of being with him, and that was what I wanted, no questions asked.

But then our ways parted. In the divorce of our relationship, I got the Muppet DVDs and he got the diabetes. While the rediscovery of life without him was not easy, the idea of never having to carry another tiny syringe in my bag was relieving. You may get used to the ugly wallpaper, but you notice the difference when it's gone.

And now it's been about a year, and the thing of his that still haunts me the most is that stupid affliction. Old letters and presents and mementos have mostly been contained to a box in a closet where they don't jump out and remind me of him when I'm not expecting it. But those confounded glucose test strips - one inch long and a quarter of an inch wide - hide in corners and under rugs until my guard is completely down. I'm just trying to clean out my car, and I have to stare an old love in the face. I suppose it's just an argument for me to be a better housekeeper. A fresh, clean house with fresh, new wallpaper.