When you wear something every, single day, you notice every, single bit of it.  I’ve been wearing this pump for four years and I know the lines of it by heart.  (I remember the day that I switched from Medtronic to Animas and even those similarly-structured insulin pumps felt entirely different to me in weight, curve, and especially clip.  As I wrote in my Animas Vibe initial review, change can be awkward.)

Two weeks ago, I dropped my insulin pump on the bathroom floor.  It survived the fall, but happened to fall just so and smashed the edge of the battery cap the teeniest bit.  See?  (Ignore the hard knocks look of my pump overall.  I’m tough on this thing.)

Okay, so maybe it’s not obvious (I can barely see it myself, even when it’s pointed out to my eyeballs), but my hip knew instantly.  The jagged catch on the battery cap bit into my skin all day long and drove me bananas.  (The photo is not accurate as far as how the chip lined up with my skin.  The battery cap pictured is not screwed tightly onto the pump.  When it’s on right, the chip faces my body.)

“Do you feel this?”  I asked Chris, running his finger over the edge of the battery cap.  “That teeny chip?  It’s making me crazy.”

“You can feel that?” he asked, surprised.

“I can.  I’m like the Princess and the Pea of insulin pumps.”  (That would make for an excessively long fairy tale title.)

The point of this post?  To illustrate how fully integrated these devices become into our lives, where we notice even the most seemingly insignificant blip.  And to also note how awesome it is when your local pump rep just happens to have a replacement battery cap in the trunk of her car.

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