One of my son’s favorite books is Little Blue Truck.  We have that mess memorized and can bust it out even without the book pages in hand.  And every time my pump beeps, I think of the little black pump on my hips at all times.  These two thoughts ended up in my mental blender this morning, thus, Little Black Pump.  (With deep, deep apologies to Alice Schertle‘s words and Jill McElmurry‘s illustrations.)

LITTLE BLACK PUMP

Alarm went “Beep!”
Dexcom purred.
Islet cells
remain unstirred.

Little Black Pump
came down the road.
“BEEP!” said Pump
to the big carb load.

Carbs said, “Yup!”
and winked an eye
When Little Black Pump
went bolusing by.

Food said, “Baaa!”
Exercise said, “Bump!”
“Yoink!” said stress hormones.
“Beep!” said Pump.

“Fuck!” said the Kerri
(but her kids were asleep)
“Logbook,” said her phone app.
Pump said, “Beep!”

“Nay!” said a cupcake.
Work said, “Jump!”
“Beep!” said the friendly
Little Black Pump.

“HONK!” yelled the dumb Panc.
“Coming through!
I’ve got tasks
But no follow through!

I haven’t got time
to pass the day
Making insulin
along the way!”

ROOOM! went the Panc
Around a curve.
He saw high BGs
and he tried to swerve —

Into the high
Rolled the big fat Panc.
“What do I do?”
The pancreas drew a blank.

His heavy duty
islet cells
were on hiatus
for an undisclosed spell.

“HONK!” cried the Panc,
and he sounded scared,
but nobody heard
(or nobody cared).

Then … into the high
BUMP, BUMP, BUMP,
was our helpful little hero,
the Little Black Pump.

Little Black bolused
with all his might
to help bring down
the blood sugar fright.

“Help! Help! Help!”
Pump cried from the sludge.
“Beep!  Beep!  Beep!
This high won’t budge!”

Everybody heard that
“Beep!  Beep!  Beep!”
The DOC came running
(even those who were asleep).

Up at a gallop
came the blogosphere.
Twitter came, too,
And Instagram was here.

The web came in
with support and advice
and everybody helped
make that high play nice.

Head to head
and no one goalless,
they all told Pump
“Time to rage bolus.”

The Rage Bolus budged
that heavy carb load.
Sending that high
back down in-range road.

All together —
one … two … three!
One last bolus
and the Panc was free.

“Thanks, little brother,”
said the Panc to Pump.
“You helped me,
Even though I’m a grump.

Now I see
a lot depends
on a helping hand
from a lot of good friends.”

“Beep!” said Pump.
“Well this was fun.
Back to work, now,
Everyone!”

Yoink! Fuck! Nay!
Yup! Baaa! Sleep!
Diabetes soundtrack?
Beep! Beep! Beep!

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