Living in the Gray

It’s been two and a half years since I started using my insulin pump and, for the most part, it’s been great. It’s given me a lot more freedom and flexibility when it comes to managing my diabetes. Given the opportunity, I would NEVER go back to injections.

Yesterday I added a new piece of electronics. My husband thinks it’s HOT that I’m slowly becoming a bionic woman, so that’s a plus. This new gadget is called a Glucose Transmitter. It’s a small device about as big around as loonie (for the Americans among us, that’s our one dollar coin) with a little probe about 3/4 of an inch long that is inserted subcutaneously. It continuously measures my blood glucose levels and transmits the results to my insulin pump. Having trouble picturing what that looks like? Something like this:

I’d take a picture of my own stomach but…BWAHAHAHAHA!!! AS IF I’D POST A PICTURE OF MY STRETCH-MARKED, SAGGY BELLY ON THE INTERNETS! HA!

The pager-looking thing is the pump which is attached to the Cannula by tubing. The insulin goes into my body through there. The Transmitter sends radio frequency signals to the pump (or, as my best friend likes to say, allows me to contact the Mothership). It’s not a closed system. It still requires me to tell the pump how much insulin to give me, and when. It maybe looks invasive and annoying to some of you. But I’m telling you that this is a MAJOR improvement on the seven injections a day I was taking before I switched.

This is not to say their haven’t been hiccups. The pump took getting used to. It took a while before I didn’t feel extremely conspicuous wearing this device on my hip all the time. I’ve also had to have it replaced under warranty 3 times already, which, if you ask me, isn’t a great track record. But the manufacturer has agreed to give me an extra year on my five year warranty and, for the most part, I feel they have responded promptly and appropriately to my problems.

Insulin pump technology has been around for quite a while now and is working fairly well for those of us who are using it (Really!  My thrice replaced pump is actually a fairly rare occurrence, I’m told.). There is always room for refining the technology, but overall, I’m quite satisfied. But the continuous blood glucose monitoring technology is still in it’s infancy. It has a long way to go before it could be considered great.

So why use it? People have different reasons. For me, the most important reason is to keep myself safe. Having been diabetic for fifteen years now, my sensitivity to low blood sugar is fading.  Sometimes, by the time I am feeling physical symptoms of low blood sugar, my brain is already starting to get wacky (read: I act like I’m drunk, until the loss of consciousness kicks in, which is a real downer). When this happens I behave irrationally and make poor choices. I am not always clear-minded enough to treat myself and this only lands me in deeper trouble. It puts me in life-threatening danger and it puts my children at risk. And while we are working hard at teaching our 4 year old how to dial 911, should the need arise, I’d prefer to just stay conscious and healthy and keep the kids from unnecessary trauma thankyouverymuch.

The transmitter is helpful in that it warns me of low blood sugar before I may be feeling it. It also warns me when my blood sugar is climbing and can tell me what happens overnight, when I’d rather not be getting up to test my blood (I used to have to get up every night at 3am to take an injection. It was not cool!).  It is useful in identifying trends and allowing one to tighten overall control of blood glucose which,  in turn, keeps a diabetic person healthier and reduces complications in the long term.

So the transmitter is new. And I have to say that I am a bit bummed about it right now. Which is dumb, because I am happy to have it. But there is an adjustment period. Right now it is annoying and feels  awkward and I’m very conscious of it. It causes my pump to alarm about 3840573248 times a day (it goes off when my blood sugar is too high, too low, when it needs to be calibrated [2-3 times per day], an hour before it needs to be calibrated and for a variety of other reasons). I feel like I’m constantly vibrating. It’s like a needy person, attached to my hip, and asking for attention 24 HOURS A DAY and, OH YEAH I ALREADY HAVE TWO OF THOSE!  But I know I will get used to it and some day I will probably say that I can’t imagine life without it. But today, well, it kinda sucks.

Avery has gotten into playing games on the Sesame Street website lately. She particularly favours an Elmo game and I have to say that Elmo’s voice is ranking quite closely behind Dora, the Evil Preschool Overlord, in mind-numbing irritation.  And so, as I listened to Elmo’s voice the other day, I came up with some one-liners I would truly like to hear Elmo say.  Here they are (and remember, you have to imagine them coming from a furry, red puppet with empty eyes, a high-pitched, yet gravelly voice, and a manically cheerful personality):

Elmo was an accident!

Elmo has two mommies!

Elmo is a nudist!

Sometimes Elmo blacks out and loses hours at a time!

Elmo is bi-polar!

Elmo says sometimes tickling is “inappropriate”!

Elmo dyes his hair! (Because of an unhealthy obsession with the colour red.)

What would you like to hear Elmo say?

In the spirit of marital harmony and keeping the peace (and because I kinda owe my hubby one for this post), I am following in Mr. Lady’s footsteps, posting a list of some pet peeves I imagine my husband has about me, no excuses (no apologies either). Mostly, all I can do is imagine because I am SURE that my husband WILL NEITHER CONFIRM NOR DENY my THEORETICAL shortcomings in the comments here, or anywhere else, for that matter. The list will be go on until my self-respect starts to falter.

Without further ado…

While I’m a fan of being organized,  I’m not a fan of putting in the work require to achieve said organization. When it comes down to it, I’m a wee tad lazy.  So while I will vacuum the floor, when he does it he will move all the furniture and really get into every nook and cranny.  Where I will put the books on the shelves he will alphabetize and separate them by genre.  I especially avoid chores that I really despise. Dishes that can’t go through the dishwasher *sometimes* stay in the sink for a day week and clean laundry sometimes languishes a while an eternity before being folded and put away.

I’ve mentioned before that I strongly dislike passionately despise chewing sounds.  But I would not be at all surprised to hear that my husband is tired of me telling him to stop eating in right in my damn ears! Because I tell him that a lot. And I’m sure he’s ready for me to get the hell over it already.

My brain is like a friggin sieve when it comes to remembering anything technical. I can’t remember how to do anything on the computer that involves more than two step.  So there are a LOT of things that I can’t do, even after being shown how 586934 times.  It is probably irritating.

I need more rest than he does. That’s the reality.  To him it’s that I’m always tired. Always needing a nap. Always whining about having gotten up too early or stayed up too late. I doubt he realized he was marrying a sloth eight years ago.

I am really easily frustrated.  I get irrationally angry with myself and with him when things are not done the way I want them done. Immediately.  Not the most attractive quality in a woman.

I get tired of deep, intellectual conversations kind of quickly. Not that I don’t like to have them. But I don’t have the mental stamina to talk about them for hours and hours like my hubby.  Let’s just say my ability to grasp complex abstract concepts is not finely honed.

Oh, and I steal the blankets. Every night.

Ok, if you know me, you know I almost never send email forwards because 1) most of them are stupid and 2) the rest are stupid AND hoaxes (also known as email viruses perpetuated by stupid people). But I got this one the other day that really cracked me up because it is SO TRUE! And so, instead of forwarding it, I am posting it here. If you (like me) automatically delete almost everything that has the word FORWARD in the subject line, I won’t be offended if you choose to stop reading here.

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning, uphill, both ways, yada, yada! And I remember promising myself that when I grew up there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they’ve got it. But now that I’m over the ripe old age of 30 [Editor’s note: For the record, I am not over the age of 30, nor do I consider those who are, “ripe” or “old”.], I can’t help but look around and notice the youth of today. You’ve got it so easy! Compared to my childhood you live in a damn Utopia! I hate to say it, but you kids today! You don’t know how good you’ve got it!

When I was a kid we didn’t have the internet. If we wanted to know something we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalog!

There was no email. We had to actually write a letter WITH A PEN. Then we had to walk ALL THE WAY across the street and put it in the mailbox. And it would take a week to get there!

There were no MP3’s or ITunes. If you wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself! Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ would usually talk over the beginning and f#@k it all up!

We didn’t have fancy things like Call Waiting. If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal. That’s it! And we didn’t have Caller ID either! When the phone rang we had no idea who it was! It could be your mom, your boss, your bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent. You just didn’t know. You had to pick it up and take your chances Mister!

We didn’t have any fancy Sony Playstations with high resolution 3D graphics. We had the Atari 2600! With games like “Space Invaders” and “Asteroids” and the graphics sucked. Your “guy” was a little square. You actually had to use your imagination. And there were no multiple levels or screens. It was just ONE SCREEN FOREVER and you could NEVER WIN. The game just kept getting harder and faster until you died. JUST LIKE LIFE.

When you went to the movie theater there was no such thing as stadium seating. All the seats were the same height. If a tall guy or some lady with a hat sat in front of you and you couldn’t see you were just screwed.

Sure, we had cable television, but back then that was only 15 channels and there was no onscreen menu and no remote control. You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on. When it came to channel surfing you had to get off your ass and walk over to the TV to change the channel and there was no Cartoon Network either. You could only get cartoons on Saturday morning. Do you hear what I’m saying??? We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled little bastards!

We didn’t have microwaves. If we wanted to heat something up we had to use the stove or go build a frigging fire! If we wanted popcorn we had to use that stupid Jiffy Pop thing and shake it over the stove forever like an idiot.

That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You kids today have got it too easy! You’re spoiled! You guys wouldn’t last five minutes back in 1980 [Editor’s Note: The year I was born.] Oh yeah, and a seatbelt was Mom throwing her arm across your chest every time she hit the brakes.

Regards,
The Over 30 Crowd [Editor’s Note: Or the Just Under 30 Crowd]

Some days it’s harder to believe than others…

[Edited to add: Since I posted this I’ve realized that perhaps it’s less than clear. Even my husband was asking about it. Yes, the picture is from PostSecret. No, I did not mail it in myself. It just resonates with me, as a person with an incurable disease. I would like to be able to say that “the disease does not have me”, but some days it is hard to say, feel or believe that. But I found this picture inspiring and encouraging.]