An Open Letter to The Edges.
You've been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I was a baby, I used to lean on you in my crib. Then there was that day when I was two years old and broke my nose against you on the fireplace. My mother used to keep my baby bottles on you in the kitchen.
Oh Edges, you've been around forever! From resting my elbows against you on the table in anatomy class senior year to the you above my bed where I had a library of books, you have always been there. And we've lived in relative harmony, until the last few years.
Edges, I know you know what I'm talking about. Listen, I understand that I've added these shifting bits of technology to my body - a pump infusion set on the outside of my thigh or on my abdomen, or the CGM transmitter on the back of my arm or on my hip. I realize this adds an additional inch, maybe three inches at best, to my overall surface area. But must you grab at these bits so much?
Was it really necessary for you to snag my pump site over the weekend? I was undressing for my wedding gown fitting and the edges of my pants caught a small bit on the infusion set. Granted, I moved slowly enough to thwart a complete site removal, but still.
And did you really have to reach out for me when I was picking through my jewelry box this morning in search of the stupid matching earring? I leaned against the edge of my dresser and didn't realize I was pressing up against the infusion set until I stood up straight and felt that ping of pain when the feeling came back to my thigh.
But the last straw was this afternoon at work. You know exactly what I mean, when I was talking with H about something and then I turned around quickly. It was like you came darting out at me, snagging my shoulder on you and pulling the CGM transmitter almost cleanly from my arm, but not cleanly enough that I was sure it came out. Just enough so that it stung in that oddly warm and slightly painful way, enough to make me wince but not enough to make me grimace. I had to go into the bathroom at work, push up my sleeve almost to my shoulder, and see the sensor needle dangling from the back of my arm like a tooth that just needed a quick tug to come free.
Edges, I had just put that sensor in this morning and it was calibrated perfectly. The results were working and I was watching my afternoon trend happily away. But you had to reach out and say hello, didn't you? Couldn't just sit back and let me sport this sensor for at least 24 hours before you grabbed it and yanked it out?
I am putting another one in today. I am going to use my leg, I will tape it down to eliminate any variables, and I expect you to keep your grabby little edgy hands off of it for at least three days. Three days, damnit.
If I have to walk around with a giant nail file and round you all out, I will.