Dexcom Down!

I am feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet.  About four days ago, my Dexcom monitor began to doo-da-loo at me with an error message I'd never seen before: "Transmitter Battery Low.  Order Replacement."  Thoroughly confused by this message as I'd just replaced the monitor this past September, I plugged in my CGM to it's USB port and rolled on with life.

Then, at about one o'clock in the morning this past Sunday, it hit me.  The error message was so darn clear, the transmitter battery is low, not my monitor battery -- in other words, the gray piece I attach to my new sensor on a weekly basis needs to be replaced.  So no matter how well charged my blue CGM monitor is or how fresh my sensor is, with a dead battery in my transmitter my CGM is about as useful as when trash day falls on a national holiday (yes, we were hit three times recently thanks to Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years Day all falling on Thursdays... no, I am not annoyed...).

Having contacted my Dexcom customer service rep first thing on Monday morning, I learned that it will take 3 to 5 business days to arrive here at the house.  So with a possible arrival time of this Thursday at the earliest or next Monday at the latest, I have been crossing my fingers that the low battery holds out until the earliest possible time that my replacement transmitter can arrive.  Unfortunately, however, as I was going about the morning routine today my monitor stopped reporting my glucose trends and indicated my transmitter is out of range.  As I'd seen this error message before it didn't initially register that my CGM needs more than my sticking the monitor in my pocket for a while... so you can imagine how dumb I felt after carrying this thing around for an hour to no avail when it hit me that, yet again, I'm being completely dense.

My transmitter battery is d-e-a-d, DEAD.  I have yet to receive shipment notification from my supplier that my new transmitter is on it's way.   I've officially thrown myself back to the Stone Age of diabetes management as, for the second time this pregnancy, I'm back to finger sticks to track my blood glucose.  As my insulin requirements continue to change over the course of the third trimester with the placenta making my body increasingly insulin resistant and with baby and me being incredibly sensitive to glucose swings - him and my AFI levels, apparently, responding to my in-range 70-140 mg/dL blood sugar variations; me responding emotionally to the mere suggestion of my diabetes incompetence or a potential c-section - this is NOT the ideal time to have my high tech gismo go out on me.

Keep your fingers crossed that my new transmitter arrives soon and that the mean time doesn't somehow manage to make my head explode.  I head to the perinatologist later today (solo... boo hiss) and it's my first appointment at the hospital's Antenatal Testing Center, so I'll report back sooner rather than later on how things are going... so, seriously, all the fingers you can spare to crossed are appreciated!

UPS Fail.

Okay, I know that it is the holidays and for that reason alone slack should be granted to the poor schlubs who are working exceptionally long, seasonal hours to deliver packages across the country before the good ol’ Saint Nick deadline of December 24, but right now I am beyond angry.   Just five minutes ago, my Mastiff gave me the pleading look of “oh dear goodness, I need to go outside or you need to get the Bissell” so I wrapped up what I was doing and went to the front door to let her out.  Now, our yard doesn’t have a fence and our dog is one of those freakish varieties that won’t run away, stays on our property and comes back to the door as soon as her business is addressed, so I thought nothing of it when I opened the front door, realized it was raining and stepped back to wait for my 118 lbs of pooch to return.  Seeing as she’s more terrified of rain and water than I am (and that is saying something), she ran down the front steps, skipped her typical condeming look of “wait, you aren’t coming with me?” and proceeded to run out into the darkness.  Wanting to keep a watchful eye on her for good measure, I flipped on the front porch light and waited for her to reappear with a wet-cat skulk.

Scampering up to the door, I opened it and looked down to watch her track wet paw prints into the foyer when I saw it.  A lone cardboard package sitting just beside the door on the brick landing in the puddle that perpetually forms whenever it rains.  Now, I could be mad at the person who incomprehensibly formed the stoop to be concave at just the precise location where packages were apt to be delivered, but they screwed up back in the 1970s and I am fairly positive that the statute of limitations on that one has expired.  The UPS guy, however, knows better.  Having delivered package upon package to this address over the last year, he’s aware of the circumstances that surround our house:  the stoop collects water, the dog barks when you knock or ring the door bell, we always answer the door and say “thank you” regardless of our streetability (I’ll wear what makes me comfortable, dang it, and I don’t care if we live in the “south” make-up should be optional at home), the newly awake child screaming (no it wasn’t nap time, she’s just really excited to see you), or whatever is on the stove (quick someone stir that!).  

But tonight, despite all we’ve been through and come to treat as routine, there was no knock on the door or constructive use of the door bell. There was no barky-dog to alert us of the thoroughly vulnerable package that was placed directly in to the formed (and growing) puddle.  And there most certainly isn’t an appropriate application of the word “thank you” to be found on these lips as UPS messed up R-O-Y-A-L-L-Y.  

This could have been a run of the mill Christmas package - something we ordered or someone carefully selected, packed and sent our way - but it wasn’t.  No, it was far from a frivolous purchase that would have received a muttered curse word and eventual shake of the head with ”what a shame.”  Instead, this package contained medical supplies - three months worth of my continuous glucose monitor sensors to be exact - that I use on a daily basis and rely upon for their unfailing accuracy and constant data for my glucose control.  Something that a night’s worth of sitting in the rain would have destroyed, cost me or the supplier, Dexcom, hundreds of dollars to replace and would have left Baby and me up a creek with the occasional finger prick as my source of sugar control.  I’ve long since left behind the CGM-hating band wagon and Lord help anyone (talking to you, UPS!) who gets between me and my necessary - YES NECESSARY - medical technology…  

All I can say at this point (suffice it to say their customer service will be getting an ear full tomorrow) is Thank God the dog needed to go out just then, thank God I turned on the front porch lights for her despite the need for them, and thank God I had that disparaging thought about her wet paws causing me to look down and notice the package when I did.  If this sequence of events hadn’t occurred, my head would have exploded upon finding the mushy pile of trash waiting for me in the morning.  But, fortunately, the cardboard was thick, the boxes of sensors insulated by tissue paper and the sensors individually wrapped in sterile plastic - meaning I got lucky and the damage is largely restricted to the exterior packaging.   Thank you little baby Jesus!

To the nincompoop who skipped putting the package in a sealed plastic bag, opted out of notifying us of it’s delivery and voluntarily left the box in an EXISTING puddle, whoever you are, here’s your sign.  That was excessively dumb, poorly executed and completely unnecessary.  Clearly someone up there is watching out for you, too, but come on man!  Not. Cool.