If the world ended, and I somehow managed to be one of the few survivors in the new post-apocalyptic world, this is all I would need to manage my diabetes.
When I was diagnosed with T1D I depended on these bad boys to survive.
The world hasn’t ended. And yet this past month, I learned firsthand what life would be like without all of the technology that helps me manage this disease.
Back to Finger Pricks
First, my prescription for the wireless transmitter component of my continuous glucose monitor (CGM) expired. My health insurance company requires a letter of medical necessity, certified from my endocrinologist, every year (you know, because I may be miraculously cured in that time span). For some reason, medical supply companies and doctor offices still communicate by fax (archaic!). Fast forward three weeks from when I put in the order for a new transmitter (I documented the whole saga on social media, by the way), and my transmitter dies. Continue reading
I’ve been thinking about my third tattoo for a few years now. Since I adopted the rose tattoo on my back in spring of 2011, I played around with the idea of having a few stars on the top of my foot. At first, I just thought the stars were beautiful. I loved my rose tattoo, a very traditional image but gorgeous nonetheless. But because these stars would be permanently attached to my body, in my opinion, they needed to have deeper meaning.
So what do the stars really represent?
Well, my favorite band is Stars. And lately I’ve become more intrigued with the known and unknown universe. I mean what does dark matter really encompass?
But more than that, when I was younger, and my parents were asked to pick a Disney song that represented me (the reason here is not relevant but let’s just say for fun), they chose, “When You Wish Upon a Star,” from Pinocchio. Why? Because they envisioned that one day, I would follow my dreams. Continue reading
His name is Gizmo. He’s a small thing, about the size of a pager, with charcoal skin…. Gizmo and I are attached by a long string, like an umbilical cord. He’s constantly pumping insulin. Sometimes, he moves to the comforts of my small stomach rolls. Sometimes, he rides along my back. He doesn’t enjoy the hard surface of my legs, and it feels uncomfortable when I tuck him under my arm.
Many of you may remember when Gizmo and I first met or you may remember this short introduction from my book Sugarcoated. But I first met Gizmo back in March of 2012 when I went from injecting myself with pens and needles every day to the transformative wonders of an insulin pump. With Gizmo I never had another hypoglycemic seizure, and I was better able to function on a daily basis without diabetes getting in the way.
But recently I wrote about possibly saying goodbye to Gizmo and introducing a new type of insulin delivery system into my life. Well just a few days ago I took that step. Continue reading
It wasn’t a weekend of firsts. It wasn’t a weekend of lasts. But it was a weekend that changed my outlook on this whole “diabetes” situation.
I did more than survive a weekend without Gizmo, my insulin pump. I re-learned the challenges associated with counting carbs and calculating insulin dosages and how to listen to my body.
Sunday and Monday were good examples.
On Sunday night, my blood sugar felt high (159), but not high enough to warrant a correction dosage of one unit (the lowest increment my flex pen will allow). I had a vague recollection my syringes were divided into 0.5 increments. I only needed a 0.4 unit correction dosage.
I looked at the needle on the syringe – not much longer than my flex pen; I could do this. Now how do I get insulin from the vial to the syringe without breaking the needle? The last time I used a syringe was four and a half years ago, right after I was diagnosed.
Apparently, I needed to unscrew the bottom of the syringe to access the plastic extension that would allow me to fill the syringe. I couldn’t fill it to the 0.5 mark. How would I get out the air bubbles? I used the same method I use for the plastic vial I attach to my pump. I overfilled it and then used the extra space to rid of the bubbles.
Now I will just inject myself with the 0.5 increment and dump the rest back into the insulin vial, I thought. However, as soon as I inserted the needle into my skin, I realized how stupid this was, how easily I could accidentally inject myself with all 15 units of insulin. That means I would need to eat 300 grams of carbs to make up for it, which would totally defeat the purpose of this. Continue reading