I often feel that I am just the spirit in this body, and it really would not matter who the body was, I would be essentially the same. It’s a bit more voodoo/ sci-fi than I generally tend to believe, but it’s true. All in all, I have been quite happy with this body. (minus the auto-immune, shall we say, issues) However, recently I am afraid that the vessel may be rebelling. Indeed, we have a mutiny on our hands.
My saline trial is going just fine. I am changing the infusion sets with minimal hassle and pain. After about 30 minutes the sting from the needle goes away and I am all set for a few more days. I am figuring out which pants work best with the pump and where I can hide it when I am out and about. My body seems to not mind the pump. Hooray! The problem is that I also have to continue to take my shots until next Tuesday. I did not think that this could possibly be an issue, having taken 4-6 shots a day for 24 years. But I think this old ship has had enough of the double life.
I have never bruised so much from shots in my life. It does not seem to matter, leg, butt, belly… bruise, bruise, bruise….and I am not talking little bruises. Big, black, ugly ones. Sigh.
The final straw for me happened this weekend. I went out with a girlfriend for dinner and to see a band. The restaurant/bar was about an hour from my house. After trying on several outfits to make sure the pump was well out of site. I packed my bag, remembering to bring my bedtime Lantus, just incase I was out too late, and I jumped in the car (I was SO proud of the fact that I brought my Lantus with me). I really was feeling like I finally had a good grip on my health.
We met, sat down and started chatting. I could chat with this particular girlfriend for days and still have things to talk about. After a margarita and some chips, I reach for my humalog. It was almost as soon as my arm started to go for my purse that I knew. It was going to be a long reach! My humalog was sitting at home, on my kitchen table. Damn. Damn Damn. I felt like I did in 5th grade when I forgot about a homework assignment, naked and vulnerable, and not anything that could easily fix the situation.
I had ordered a low carb dinner anyway so we ate. Then gave up, what I thought to be the perfect seats to watch the band, and we went on a quest for humalog. 5 pharmacies later, we found it. I convinced them to ignore the “prescription required” on the box, telling the 18 year old behind the counter that yes, it was novalog that you need a script for and not this... I paid my, gsap, $85 for the bottle and we headed back. (I knew that I could get R if all else failed.)
Of course we lost our seats, and had to pay a cover to get back into the same bar that we were just in. But the part that irks me the most, is that my diabetes managed to change our plans. I hate that. A lot. My friend was great, and we had fun trying to find a CVS that had an open pharmacy in a strange town, but for that hour I was different. “Stop your plans and do nothing till you do this” different. That’s that hardest part of diabetes for me. I generally blend in with the crowd, my trials and tribulations of having this disease were my own issue, and until very recently (learning to share those burdens with my husband), no one other than myself saw all of the work that makes it look easy to others.
It amazes me that 24 years later, I am still learning and adjusting to this disease. And yes, the largest bruise to date was a result from my new, very expensive bottle of humalog.
I am ready to get this pump show on the road!