Thursday, September 13, 2012

Non-diabetic Nostalgia

The other night HB and I were debating the meaning of life (aka arguing whose turn it was to do the dishes) when my pump notified me of its depleted insulin reservoir.  As this is happening more and more frequently with my third trimester insulin resistance - about every other day or every two days - I absentmindedly grabbed my infusion change equipment and began to swap things out.  Amidst our deep, philosophical conversation, I went through every single step to reset my pump (rewound the piston, filled the new reservoir with insulin, hooked up and filled the new tubing, cleaned and prepped the new site and had the silserter charged for insertion) and only had one step left (actually inserting the new site) when HB started to uncontrollably laugh at me... 

Now, some of you might think it's cruel that my husband would laugh at me holding an almost two inch needle to my skin, but to be fair he does have good reason and here's why:  I have a new (admittedly somewhat ridiculous) routine when I do an infusion change. Typically taking five minutes or less to complete the whole process and move on with life, infusion changes now require a minimum of 30 - hopefully more - minutes to complete. 

This isn't because my uterus is too big to find a spot to put the new site or because the processes some how got more complicated.  Rather, it is because I am thoroughly enjoying the non-diabetic nostalgia that goes along with procrastination.  I looooove lying on the couch with my pump cast to the side, out of arms reach and pretending that I'm normal and don't need it to be attached to my hip (literally) 24/7.  I like that I can go to the bathroom without needing to coordinate my pump and my pants.  I like that I can put BOTH of my hands in BOTH of my pockets at the same time.  I like that if I wanted to be 100% in my birthday suit that I can be 100% not 98% dressed for success.  And I like that for those few minutes, I am completely free of the plastic shackles that bind me to a battery operated pancreas. 

Of course the end of my 30 minute trip down make-believe, dress-down lane ends with me regrettably whining for five minutes or so about having to come back to reality.  HB often asks me at this point if I want him to just insert it for me and the answer is always "no" because it is not that I need help or that I can't do it myself, it's just that it takes a bit to work up the desire to swallow that gigantic horse pill of "indefinite illness" that comes along with chronic diseases like this.  

I know the pump makes me healthy... I know being healthy keeps me happy... and I know being happy helps everyone around me be happy. BUT STILL, it'd be nice to just simply be happy and healthy without needing the pump.  

I miss being non-diabetic. A lot. 

Summer 2008:  Non-diabetic and simply self conscious.
(You try rocking a bikini and strategically wearing a pump at the same time!)

PS - I changed the infusion site that got this whole post topic started last night after a couple days of ultra sore, extremely sensitive to even the most minor touch pain.  Even before changing it I knew I'd have problems, but it turned out to be the ugliest, most gruesome site change I've had yet - gushing blood and unhappy ooze.  

Summer 2012:  my super sexy, you know you love it,
 ridiculously bloody infusion site.

So for anyone out there who has been diagnosed with pre-diabetes
 or has type 2, take a good look at this picture.  You have the ability to 
avoid this and - believe me - you want to.   

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