This weekend was the first time I heard him mention it. My husband never deliberately avoided the subject before, mind you. It's just that most of his conversations about diabetes are more focused on short-term issues ("Do we have enough juice? Your eyes look funny, maybe you should test your blood sugar"). For someone who's only ever seen diabetes in the most negative light, he's very good about asking questions and learning how this complicated monster works. But the "C" word--cure--never really came up before.
"They might not be able to cure it in your lifetime, you know," he said. Tentatively, as if it might make me burst into tears. He looked at me, and held my hand.
I smiled at him, feeling a little sad. "I know, honey. It's OK." He hugged me, and said nothing.
Though some really exciting, interesting research is now being done into the causes of type 1 diabetes, I've never really believed I would be "cured". I never thought about the future much as a teen (who does?!), and later on I just tried my hardest to maintain good health on the bumpy ride through life. Meeting my husband opened a window I'd never known was there; we talk about things I could never have imagined five years ago, and I'm impatient to run headlong down the path of our new life together, my heart full of joy. But a cure is a dream for someone else. It's a wonderful dream, don't get me wrong, and I raise funds and advocate in the hopes of making it come true. And sure, there are days when the whole routine gets old, and I wish it would just go away. But I'm happy with what I have in my small life. As long as I'm healthy and free of complications I can't ask for much more.
My husband worries about my long-term health more than any spouse should, and I know it isn't easy for him to understand all the ups and downs. So, if a cure does arise in my lifetime, he'll be the reason I get in line. Til then, I'll leave it for others to divine.