Today is my birthday. It's kinda a big one. It's the one that defines a person as an adult. I am no longer allowed to be a screw-up. By my age a person is expected to have a degree, a career, a home, a signficant other, and probably a family. You're suppose to be sure of your life and where you are going. At least that's what I gather from society. If nothing else, at this age you should be able to put on your own continuous monitor.
Last night I decided it was time to put on the continuous monitor again. It's been like 2 months since I've worn it and I was feeling all 'responsible diabetic'. Hear this, I am a baby. I can put on infusion sites and poke fingers all day long, even injections aren't bad. Putting on a continuos monitor is a whole new game. Some of you are freaks and don't care that it's a big needle and that it's not spring loaded, some of you even prefer it. I am not that freak.
The first time I went to put on my CGM (continuous monitor) ever I tried to do it fast, I really really tried. The problem is that when you feel a poke your body says "Oh no, I am in mortal danger" and refuses to let your thumb continue to break the skin. I learned after many unsuccessful attempts to make my hubby do it. That was over a year ago.
Hubby does a good job. I can tell it makes him nervous because he is afraid of hurting me. I put on a happy face (which he can see right through) and tell him the faster he can do it the better. I try not to flinch and keep my clenched teeth grin looking straight ahead. I say thank-you when it's done. That is his contribution to helping me manage my diabetes. That and asking me when I return to bed after treating a low in the night "Are you ok?" Yeah, I almost didn't wake up, but I'm fine now. I love my hubby. He sleeps like death.
Last night hubby was playing basketball when I go all 'responsible diabetic'. I think to myself, I am a grown woman, I can do this. It's no big deal, the needle isn't that long and if I just don't think about it all will be well.
A friend calls and we are talking. I, not even thinking about it, begin to prep a nice juicy site on my tummy. So we are chatting about life and and I begin to adhere the CGM to my tummy. That's the easy part. Now I have a needle holding apparatus that is about 4 inches adhered to my tummy. I am pacing around the house talking on the phone. This is the point where I call hubby, except he's gone and won't be home for 2 1/2 hrs. I cannot hang out with this thing hanging off of me all night.
The thoughts are racing through my head "What are you thinking? You can't do this on your own. Your thumb will freeze again. Why didn't you wait for hubby?" I turn the phone conversation topic to the situtation I am facing. Dang it, we both know I have to do this.
15 mins later I am tired of this apparatus hanging around and I go to insert the needle. My thumb locks up and refuses to move fast. It is cautiously approaching the mortal needle prick it knows is coming. "Ehh," that is needle poking flesh. Thumb stops. I hold my breath, close my eyes, and will my thumb to man up. And it's done. I did it all by myself. It only took me 17 mins from start to finish.
A few hours later my CGM is calibrated and spitting out dead on accurate blood sugars. Why don't I wear this thing more often? I go to bed.
"BEEEEPPPPPP!!!!!!!!" What in the world? I was just falling asleep. Vibrate, vibrate. Come on, really? Look at that, I am dropping. Time to go and finger poke. Get out of bed, turn on the lights, walk to the kitchen. Poke, think "I really need a new lancet." Wow, this thing is spot on. It says 64, glucometer says 63. Eat some food and return to bed.
"BEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPP!!!" Not again! What?!? 53 and dropping, there is no way. Go to the kitchen, turn on the light. Eyes adjust. Finger poke, 88. Stupid thing. Re-calibrate it- I pushed the buttons extra hard in attempt to show my angst towards this infernal device. Back to bed.
"BBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!!!" Oh my goodness, you are gonna die stupid machine!!! 67?!?! Go to the kitchen, turn on the way too bright light again. Test, 91.
This continues on through the night. At this point I am cursing 'responsible diabetic'. After testing 5 times in the night I decide this thing is toast. I shove it under my pillow to shut it up, and ignore it the rest of the night. I woke up in the 90's this morning. Stupid thing.
Looking at the last 12 hours of BG readings and reflecting. A lot like I am looking over the past 29 years and reflecting. I might not be where society thinks I should be, I don't quite measure up. I don't have the degree, fancy car, career, whatever. But where I am, is even better. Where I am is where I want to be.