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Today is
Earth Day and having grown up in an environmentally responsible household, I consciously make green decisions throughout my day. Turning off lights here, not wasting water there, paper over plastic… any little thing that I know eventually adds up in a big way. A difficult part of deciding on a
pump, however, was the green impact it carried along with it. The
OmniPod was designed to be worn for three days and then hucked in the trash… really?
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I called my supply company today. A very good company that provides me with all of my pump supplies - including batteries and IV preps - thank you very much! Here's how the call went:
"Hello, this is Nicole Purcell calling, I'm due for my supplies so I'm just calling in."
"Oh, OK, hold on a second."
I hold on, hearing her type-type-typing.
"Oh, you're a pump."
"Excuse me?"
"You're a pump, just hold...o..."
"Excuse me, before you transfer me, I need to tell you that I am not, in fact, a pump. But I am a person that wears a pump..." Letting that little gem hang out there for an uncomfortably silent few seconds. "Hello, are you still there?"
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Julia
I've often thought about making some sort of subtle statement around the holidays regarding diabetes. It's a tough time of the year when you have diabetes - there are so many sugar-laden treats around and your schedule is usually out of whack so blood sugars and testing can fall by the wayside in the whirl of activities.
So for the last few months, I've been saving Olivia's insulin bottles. I planned on putting them on a string of lights once I had enough and then putting them on the tree.
Last night, I happened to be in CVS, getting my thyroid medication (and gummy bears, as you do) and I saw these Tiny Lights and I thought "Perfect!" I grabbed a box and was on my way.
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This morning I woke up to my pump alarm yelling at me. I turned over and looked at the clock. Having over an hour before I needed to wake up I grabbed my pump and pressed the ESC and ACT buttons to kill the alarm and fell quickly back to sleep. I knew this morning was going to be an
infusion set change day so I was not surprised, just annoyed.
No sooner did I go back to sleep that I heard the alarm again. Not normally when you clear the low reservoir alarm you have another 10 units of insulin worth before the alarm goes off again. I reached under the blankets and cleared the alarm again. I don't think I even achieved REM state before my alarm went off and I was up for good. Bummer.
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A funny thing happened this week. I turned forty.
Okay, perhaps it wasn't so funny.
The morning of my birthday, I took a long moment in front of my bathroom mirror. My apartment complex management was kind enough to replace the subtle lighting over the mirror that we'd had for two years with new, direct lights that look fancy but which might be more appropriate for an interrogation than the gentle transition from being asleep to facing the reality of my new life as a forty-something. Looking in the mirror, I swear I could hear the faint creaking sound of my bones as they calcified.
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A funny thing happened this week. I turned forty.
Okay, perhaps it wasn't so funny.
The morning of my birthday, I took a long moment in front of my bathroom mirror. My apartment complex management was kind enough to replace the subtle lighting over the mirror that we'd had for two years with new, direct lights that look fancy but which might be more appropriate for an interrogation than the gentle transition from being asleep to facing the reality of my new life as a forty-something. Looking in the mirror, I swear I could hear the faint creaking sound of my bones as they calcified.
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I had to pick Olivia up from school again today because her stomach was nauseous again. She's been on a course of Zantac for a couple of weeks now and it seemed to work for a while. This is the first time she's felt this bad. She told me last night that her stomach was a little sore, but not queasy.
So, I'm off to the store to get more Zantac (and pump batteries, which seem to have disappeared - I'm blaming my husband and all of his electronic gadgets) and I'm logging (I
know!!!) all of her food. I haven't logged actual food in a while - just carbs. Thank goodness I have a good spreadsheet for all this. I'm just going to leave it open on the computer all day. Hopefully that will prompt me to get the stuff in there on a daily basis rather than slacking and then playing catch up. She's never going to remember what she ate yesterday and I certainly don't expect her to.
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I checked, double checked and triple checked the TSA website to make sure I knew every law before I made my flight. I found out diabetics can carry water, juice and all supplies on board the plane. I read all my rights when or if they searched me or my bag.
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I want to be the Little Mermaid. I want my ocean life to turn to land. I want to suddenly be able to cross to the other side. I want a day without diabetes. Just one day.
If I could imagine a day without diabetes... it would be hard to know where to start. Maybe I'd go jogging and not worry about getting low hours later. Maybe I would make my day on a holiday so I could eat anything I wanted without thinking about boluses and temp basals.
Certainly I would rejoice in not being glued to an insulin pump and infusion set. I would get rid of the calluses on my fingers from the eight finger sticks a day. I wouldn't worry about heightened risks for heart disease, glaucoma, or even the common cold.
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I'll admit it. I'm a big fan of cheap wine. Yummy. Give me some Boones Farm Strawberry Zinfandel on a hot summer night, and I'll get my buzz on - and get it on good. And I used to, back in the day, enjoy a nice cigarette (or ten) with my wine. Even now, every so often, I'll get a craving for a cigarette. Thankfully, the urge is usually cured by the smell of a heavy smoker passing by and occasionally cured by a simple, single drag on another person's gross-stick.
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