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Posts from the ‘Pumping Insulin’ Category

When Good Insulin Goes BAD.

Ninety percent of the time, my high blood sugar has an identifiable reason, and there’s a cluster of common causes.  Did I under-estimate the carbs in a snack and therefore under-bolus?  Did I over-treat a low blood sugar?  Did I eat without bolusing at all (it happens)?  Is there a lot of stress floating around that I’m responding to?

Most of the time, those questions cover the why.  Once in a while, my highs are for rogue reasons, like an air bubble in my pump tubing.  Or when I eat something carb-heavy right after an insulin pump site change (it’s like that first bolus doesn’t “catch” somehow).  Or I forgot to reconnect my pump.  Or if the cat bites through my pump tubing.

But rarely, if ever, is one of my high blood sugars the result of bad insulin.

Except it totally happened last week, when two days of bullshit high numbers had me mitigating every possible variable … other than swapping out the insulin itself.  (And clearly I’m stubborn and/or in denial about the quality of my insulin’s influence on my blood sugars?)  I rage-bolused.  I exercised.  I low-carbed the eff out of an entire day.  I did a site change at midnight to take a bite out of the highs.  Nothing.  The downward-sloping arrow on my Dexcom graph had gone on hiatus.

(Always a punched-in-the-gut feeling to see the word HIGH on a Dexcom graph, accompanied by an up arrow.)

But ditching the bottle of insulin entirely and swapping in a new Humalog vial?  That did the trick in a big way.  For once, it was the insulin.  Next time, it will surely be the cat.

Changing the Set.

Changing out an insulin pump infusion set is a methodical moment for me. I do things in the same order almost every time, with the same mildly frenetic mindset.

  • Remove old set from my body so I can enjoy the “connected to nothing” feeling for as long as possible.
  • Take out a new infusion set and new reservoir.
  • Ferret out the open bottle of insulin from wherever I’ve stashed it last in the bathroom.  (Usually it’s in the medicine cabinet, but during the hotter months of summer, I tend to keep it in our bedroom, where it’s cooler.)
  • Line the insulin set, reservoir, and bottle up on the counter.
  • Unscrew the reservoir cap and remove the old infusion set and reservoir from the pump.  Throw the tangle of tubing into the garbage, making sure said tangle doesn’t dangle over the edge of the garbage can because otherwise Loopy and Siah will find it and drag it all over the house.
  • Open the packaging for the reservoir and take out all the little parts (except that one frigging thing that I don’t know what it’s for and I usually throw it right into the garbage – see below):

  • Rewind the pump.
  • This is the point where I mentally set some kind of timer, challenging myself to race against the time it takes for the pump to rewind.  While the pump is whirring, I rush to fill up the reservoir and connect it to the tubing.  I do this every, single time.  It’s as satisfyingly ritualistic as shaking the bottle of test strips before I check my blood sugar.
  • Thread the tubing through the battery cap and connect the luer lock, then insert the cartridge into the pump.
  • Load the new cartridge.
  • Prime the cartridge, trying to stop the prime before more than a single drop of insulin escapes from the needle in the infusion set.
  • Hold the tubing up to the light and inspect it for bubbles.
  • After the pump is primed, again the mental timer is set.  This time, the challenge is to unpeel the sticky backing from the infusion set and find a place on my body that’s suitable for insertion before the screen on my pump goes blank from inactivity.
  • Insert the new infusion set, prime the cannula (sort of holding my breath while it primes because I’m never certain that the first introduction of insulin won’t burn under my skin).
  • Tuck the tubing out of sight and clip the pump to my clothes.
  • Fin.  (As in “the end.”  There’s no marine life actively involved in this process.)

This process takes less than two minutes to complete, but if it’s interrupted in any way, I’m thrown so far off course that it takes me five minutes to recover.  The method of this madness is that it’s one, fluid mental movement and any upset to the process makes my brain disengage to seek the comfort of something shiny.

It’s an intricate process involving several steps, precision handling, and the safe housing a powerful drug.  And if I have to change the battery at the same time …

 

Pre-Bolusing for Snacks.

“Do you pre-bolus for your meals?”

“I do.”  (I was happy to answer this question because I actually do pre-bolus.  Pre-bolusing is my A1C’s saving grace.)

“Okay, that’s great.”  She made a few notes in my chart.  “How about for snacks?  Do you pre-bolus for those?”

“I … um, nope.  I am horrible at pre-bolusing for snacks.”

Unfortunately, hat is completely and utterly true.

Meals are easier to pre-bolus for because there’s time involved in making them.  If I know I’m cooking chicken and green beans for dinner, I have 25 – 30 minutes to let that bolus sink in before the meal is even ready.  Going out to eat at restaurants is easy, too, because I usually have an idea of what I’d like to eat, so I’ll bolus for the meal once we are seated at the table.  (Pre-bolusing backfires at times, too, but as long as I’m not in the middle of the woods, I’ll take the risk.)  A meal feels like an event, and therefore easier to accommodate.

Snacks feel like an accident.  An unplanned moment.  I don’t take an apple out of the basket and bite into it in a premeditated fashion, but more like a fluid movement without any thought involved.  (A run-by fruiting by any other name …)  It’s not until I’m done with a snack – apple, yogurt, nuts, protein bar … cupcake? – that I realize I haven’t taken any insulin to cover the carbs.  My post-snackial blood sugars aren’t grateful for the misstep.

This would not be a big deal if I wasn’t such a grazer, but when 50% of my caloric intake throughout the day is on a whim, pre-bolusing for snacks matters.  My A1C is currently in my range (under 7%) but I know if I can remember even half the time to pre-bolus for snacks, I bet my standard deviation will tighten up and blah blah blah other numbers as well.

Little, conscious changes will hopefully become habit.

 

Go Bionic: Ed Damiano, Clara Barton Camp, and How the Bionic Pancreas “Really Works.”

During my visit to Clara Barton Camp yesterday, I heard the same sentiment over and over again from the kids wearing the bionic pancreas:  “It works.”

“It was weird not to touch the buttons when it beeped,” Addy said, an 11 year old camper at Clara Barton Camp who has been living with type 1 diabetes since she was two.  “I’d reach down to look at it or touch it when it beeped but then I’d have to remember not to touch anything.”

“A big change from needing to check every beep and look at the devices all the time, right?  So when did you feel like you were used to wearing it?”  I asked her.

“Yesterday.  Yesterday, it beeped and I didn’t reach down.  I just said, ‘Whatever.’”

“You trusted it?”

“Yes.  I trusted it.  It works.  If you check it, it’s perfect.  My blood sugars are perfect.”

Addy has been wearing the bionic pancreas since Sunday, part of  the Bionic Pancreas study taking place at The Barton Center (and also the Joslin Camp) this summer.  She’s one of thirteen campers at Barton taking part in the study, ages ranging from six to 11 years old, six girls suited up with the bionic pancreas last week and seven this week.  “My blood sugars have been perfect – I haven’t been low at all and I haven’t been high, except for one 203 mg/dL.”

If a week without blood sugar excursions sounds like an impossible dream, take heart.  Take pancreas, too, because this technology actually exists and is currently attached to seven girls in Massachusetts.  And not “seven girls stuck in a hospital bed under strict activity guidelines,” but seven girls who are running amuck at camp, swimming, dancing, singing in the dining hall, and burping at picnic tables outside of the cabins.  The bionic pancreas has been highlighted in the New York Times, NPR, chronicled extensively over at diaTribe, and has also been the subject of a frequently-downloaded-and-rabidly-shared New England Journal of Medicine article.

The system has a few moving parts:  two t:slim insulin pumps with the Bluetooth switched on for communicating with the phone (one filled with insulin and one filled with glucagon), a Dexcom CGM, and an iPhone.  An in-depth look at how the technology works together can be found in the NEJM paper, but the basic gist is that the Dexcom monitors blood sugars and sends that data to the iPhone, which is running an algorithm that doses insulin, glucagon, or refrains from dosing anything at all.  Lows can be corrected by glucagon, highs by insulin.  Meals aren’t carb counted, but instead the algorithm “learns” what a big meal, small meal, or snack is based on minimal input from the PWD.

“It’s beautiful,” I said to Ed Damiano, one of the principal investigators on the project, after seeing some of the blood sugar outcomes from previous studies.

“It’s still a little clunky,” he replied.  “I want to see one device, one infusion set.  But this?  It works.”

Currently, the camp study at Barton has girls on the full bionic pancreas system for five days, and then five days on their own insulin pump, but with the CGM blinded to the user and still uploading to the cloud.  Bionic pancreas campers are required to check their blood sugar at least seven times per day.  Due to camp safety protocols, the study team can’t let low blood sugars “ride” and assume that the bionic pancreas will step in with glucagon in time, so success on some levels isn’t judged by minimal time below 70 mg/dL but instead the reliable metric becomes how many times did the study team need to intervene for a low blood sugar.

This summer, there are a few new features on the bionic pancreas.  One is “microburst glucagon,” which is most useful for when people are disconnecting the system for swimming or similar, in efforts to provide a safety net for low blood sugars while doing that kind of activity.  There is also an option for temporary targets, which allows people to adjust their target thresholds.  “Normally, we aim for 100 mg/dL, but if we can adjust the threshold and show a change in the A1C based on that adjustment, we’re able to titrate A1C levels using the bionic pancreas,” said Ed.

Some challenges still exist with the system.  The bulky devices, for one, are their own challenge, but as the project moves forward, the diabetes community rallies to support current needs.  “Donna from Tallygear came up and made these ‘GO BIONIC!” belts in a matter of 48 hours.” Ed said, smiling.  “We didn’t ask her to do that.  She offered, and we are so grateful because the kids love them.”

The kids sing the praises of this device.  Ally, diagnosed in 2009 at the age of five, wore the bionic pancreas the week before Addy suited up. “It really works. When I saw the video online, I thought it was made up. I thought the girl in the video was lucky, and that her numbers were just perfect that day. And then I wore it [the bionic pancreas] and I was like, ‘Wait … it really does work!’”

Addy chimed in, her bionic pancreas belt visible over her shirt:  “Ally wore this last week and now I’m wearing it.  She said to me, ‘If you don’t want to wear it, can I wear it for you?’”

Ally nodded.  “I did say that.”

“Does the weight of the device bug you?”  I asked Ally.

“No.  It’s a little heavier but I don’t care.  Even with all the pumps on and the phone, I could still do a back-handspring in the grass.”

The study at Barton concludes this week and then moves over to the nearby boys’ camp.  But after this study finishes, there is still work to be done.  The amazing bionic pancreas team has come so far and the 2016 pivotal study is in sight, but needs community support to get there.

This is where the Bionic Challenge comes in.

According to the website call-to-action:  “The Bionic Challenge asks each family to raise $5,000 in 60 days (by September 1, 2014). If each family in attendance here today can turn to their friends and relatives and obtain 50 $100 donations (that means finding only about one donation per day for the next seven weeks), we can resume our development effort in September and keep on schedule for our final pivotal study in 2016. If we cannot resume in September, it could jeopardize our ability to secure a recently announced time-limited $20MM NIH funding opportunity, which is due in about nine months (April 15, 2015) and could support all of the clinical costs of our pivotal study.”

tl;dr:  the project needs the support of the diabetes community because, without it, the goal of a 2016 pivotal study may be delayed. If you can donate, please do. If you can’t, please consider sharing this information with someone who can. The more people who know how to help, the better.

After being promised a “cure in five years” back in 1986, the idea of the bionic pancreas being delayed because of money makes me feel insane. I could understand a delay if the technology wasn’t up to snuff, but to delay due to funding is unreasonable.  I saw kids playing outside yesterday afternoon, running around and laughing and having fun and the burden of diabetes seemed only as heavy as the belt around their waist, which with time and technology becomes smaller and lighter.

“I look at diabetes as management and maintenance,” said Ed, as we sat in the Barton Center bionic pancreas command center, where the study team was hard at work monitoring the campers blood sugars from the cloud.  “The maintenance part is the changing of an infusion set, the changing of a sensor, the checking of blood sugars.  The management part, to me, is the emotional part of diabetes.  The fact that you are so often told that you’re ‘wrong’ because you’re trying to thread the needle.  This device doesn’t take away from the maintenance part because it still requires that you wear something, do something, change something.  But it does make the management part smaller.  So much smaller.”

I don’t know if a biological cure will be seen in my lifetime.  I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes in 1986 and have been living well, but not without frustration, as a host to this disease for almost 28 years.  My perception of what a “cure” is has changed as I’ve grown older, and my hope for something that takes this disease away fades with time.  But seeing the bionic pancreas at work, around the waists of children not much older than my own, and watching the worries of diabetes lifted from their minds and the minds of their families, I feel renewed hope.  More hope than I’ve felt in a long, long time because this is real.  I held it in my hand.  It filled me back up.

Because it works.

You can follow the progress of the bionic pancreas on the Bionic Pancreas website and “like” their Facebook page for more updates.  Links to articles featuring the bionic pancreas are here , and this video shows you how, and why, the bionic pancreas works:

Unexpected Advocacy.

The last thing I wanted to do was take my cover-up off.

Chris and Birdy (and our friends and their daughter) were at a water park in New Hampshire where kids can run and play in safe-for-littles sprinklers, pools, and water slides, and as the adults, we were tasked with guarding the perimeter.  Pacing back and forth, the four of us kept watch on our kids, ready to jump in at any moment to help them climb a slide, pick themselves up if they fell, or slather on more sunscreen.

I didn’t care who saw my body.  Not really, anyway.  I’ve run miles and given birth (not simultaneously), so I know there are strengths and weaknesses to my frame, but it wasn’t the shape and curve of my body that made me want to stay covered up at the water park.

I didn’t want people staring at the diabetes devices stuck to my body.

“Oh, suck it up.  No one is looking at you.”

Of course they aren’t.  They don’t mean to.  But when someone walks by wearing a bathing suit with a few curious looking devices hanging off it, it’s hard not to notice.  My standard beachwear is a bathing suit with my pump clipped to the hip, the tubing snaked out to wherever the infusion set happens to be living, and my Dexcom sensor taking up more real estate elsewhere.  These items aren’t jarring, and people don’t snicker, but they do look twice because cyborgs aren’t the norm.

Most of the time I don’t think twice about who might look, but on this particular day, I felt self-conscious.  Why?  Who knows.  Who cares.  I just felt eh that day.

But motherhood dictated that my self-consciousness take a backseat to being part of Birdy’s waterpark experiences, so I sucked it up and removed my cover-up.  My insulin pump infusion set was stuck to the back of my right arm, the tubing snaking down and tucked into my bathing suit, where the pump was clipped to the back.  My Dexcom sensor was mounted on my right thigh.  Even though these devices are reasonably discreet, I felt like I had two giant toasters stuck to my body.


Birdy needed help climbing to a higher platform in the play area and I helped her do that, thankful that my pump was waterproof.  We ended up in the sprinkler pad for a while and I was thankful that the tape around my Dexcom sensor was strong enough to withstand the water.  After a few minutes, I got over the whole “blargh – I don’t want to wear giant toasters” feeling and got on with things.

“Excuse me.  Is that an insulin pump?”  All casual, the question came from behind me, where one of the park lifeguards was standing.  His arms were crossed over his chest as he confidently watched the pool, but his question was quiet.

“Yeah, it is.”  I wasn’t in the mood to have a full chat about diabetes, but I didn’t want to make him feel awkward for asking.

“You like it?”

“I like it better than taking injections.  I was diagnosed when I was a kid, so the pump is a nice change of pace from the syringes.”

“I bet.”  He paused.  “I was diagnosed last August and I’ve been thinking about a pump.  But I hadn’t ever seen one before.  Is that it?”  He pointed to the back of my arm.

“Kind of.  That’s where the insulin goes in, but the pump is this silver thing back here,” I pointed to the back of my bathing suit, where my pump was clipped.  “This is the actual pump.  It’s waterproof.”  A kid ran by, arms flailing and sending splashes of water all over the both of us.

“Good thing,” he said.

“For real.”  Birdy ran by to give me a high-five and then took off playing again.

“Your kid?”

“Yep.”

“How long have you had diabetes?”

“Twenty-seven years.”

He gave me a nod.  “Thanks for not making it seem like it sucks.  Enjoy your day,” and he moved towards a group of kids that were playing a little roughly.  I stayed and continued to watch my daughter play, very aware of my diabetes devices that, for the first time ever, didn’t seem quite noticeable enough.

 

(Also, today has been unofficially designated as a “day to check in” (hat tip to Chris Snider) with the DOC blogs that we’re reading.  I read a lot of diabetes blogs, but I don’t often comment because I usually want to say something meaningful, instead of “I like your post.”  (But I do like your post!)  But instead of finding that meaningful comment, I usually roll on and forget to return to comment.  NOT TODAY!  Today I’m commenting on every blog I read, because that’s the name of the game.  I love this community, and today I’ll show that through comments.  So please – if you’re here, say hello!  And thanks. xo)

Miss Idaho: #ShowMeYourPump!

Have you heard?  Sierra Sandison just earned the crown as Miss Idaho, and she accomplished her goal with an insulin pump clipped to her hip.  Yes, that’s right – another Miss America contender has hit the stage with diabetes front-and-center.  And since winning Miss Idaho barely a week ago, Sierra has already brought type 1 diabetes to the national stage via stories on NPR, People Magazine, Buzzfeed and a host of other media outlets.

Diagnosed with type 1 diabetes just after she turned 18, Sierra is helping empower people with diabetes to wear their devices proudly with the #showmeyourpump hashtag as her rallying cry.  Today, Sierra is sharing some some of her diabetes story here on SUM.

Kerri:  Sierra, you were just crowned Miss Idaho and are off to compete for the Miss America crown this September.  Congratulations!  And you’re also living with type 1 diabetes!  Can you share a little bit about your diagnosis story?

Sierra:  My dad is a family practice physician, but I was diagnosed shortly after my 18th birthday and had recently moved out of my parents’ house, so we didn’t catch it as quickly as we could have if my dad had been able to see the symptoms. Fortunately, I was never hospitalized!

I was extremely thirsty and hungry! It finally got to a point where it was ridiculously inconvenient. One day, I was snowboarding, and had to buy water bottles every time I got done with a run. I would drink them on the way up the chairlift, and then have to “relieve” myself at the top, and then again when I got to the bottom. Then, the cycle would repeat. On the chairlift, I called my dad and said, “Dad, I have a problem. I am an aquaholic. Can I go to rehab for a water addiction?” He immediately knew what the real problem was, since my late uncle and grandpa had diabetes, and my second cousin does as well.

However, when it was confirmed, and 550 [mg/dL] popped up on the glucometer, I bawled and bawled and bawled. A diabetes educator came and spoke to my class the next day, because I was terrified that they would make comments along the lines of “it’s your fault”, “maybe if you ate healthier…”, etc.

Kerri:  I saw on your Facebook profile that you were proudly rocking your t:slim insulin pump onstage at Miss Idaho – were you nervous about showing the judges your diabetes device?  What made you decide to go for it and share openly?

Sierra:  I’m going to be completely honest, it still scares me sometimes to wear my insulin pump. Getting the confidence to wear it on stage has been a journey.

When I was first diagnosed, I hated diabetes so much. I just tried to ignore it, and let my blood sugar be high until I felt to sick to deal with it. It was awful. In July, my friend asked me to compete in our local pageant, Miss Magic Valley. I met the director for lunch, who told me everything that was involved. When our food arrived, I pulled out my insulin pen, and she immediately told me about Nicole Johnson, Miss America 1999.

Nicole wore her insulin pump on the Miss America stage while she competed for her title. Knowing that has had such a huge impact on my confidence. As a young woman, we often long to look like the girls in the media: movie stars, super models, cover girls, etc. The media gives us unrealistic expectations, and most of us will never measure up. We soon begin to think that, because we are different from those girls we see, that we are somehow worth less, or less beautiful than them.

What a disgusting lie! Unfortunately, I don’t think we can ever completely escape the influence the media has on us. I hope that someday the media can be filled with a variety of beauty! That is one of the reasons I love the Miss America Organization:  Nicole Johnson rocking her insulin pump in 1999; Alexis Wineman, the first woman with autism to compete at Miss America, in 2012; Heather Whitestone, the first deaf Miss America in 1995; Nicole Kelley, Miss Iowa 2013, was born with one arm.  And countless more women who have inspired the country while competing at Miss America!

So, eventually, after thinking about, researching, and following Nicole Johnson, I got the guts to get a pump. However, it took me another year to compete with it.

This year at Miss Idaho, I was honestly terrified. I was nervous the judges wouldn’t ask me about it in my interview. I was nervous that the audience would be confused. I was scared the other contestants would think I was using it to try and get pity from the judges.

I walked into my interview, and the very first question was about diabetes. It was a huge relief. “I can do this,” I thought, until I walked out of the dressing room, and was immediately asked about the pump.  The person who asked me was Miss Idaho’s Outstanding Preteen, McCall Salinas. While my heart sunk when she first pointed it out, that quickly changed when she explained she was a diabetic, but was too scared to get a pump because of what people would think.

That was it. I was doing it. I was going to wear the pump for McCall, no matter what people said or thought, and no matter how badly it may affect my score. I walked on stage, and the rest is history.

Kerri:  Since the competition, you’ve also encouraged others to wear their devices proudly, with the #showmeyourpump hashtag/mantra.  What’s the response been like?

Sierra:  It has been so overwhelmingly AMAZING! You have to understand, I am a completely normal person. My sisters and I are getting embarrassingly excited about all my new followers and likes. It is so crazy how many people were so inspired by me doing such a simple thing! I was prepared for a lot of negative backlash for competing in a beauty pageant with a swimsuit competition involved, but as far as I know, most everyone has been positive!

The response to my #showmeyourpump campaign has been crazy as well! I can’t keep up—it is unreal! We have had responses from diabetics all over the country, and from all over the world. I have also heard from kids with hearing aids, feeding tubes, etc. How awesome that it is having an impact even beyond the DOC! Keep the pictures coming(:

Kerri:  Is diabetes advocacy part of your competition platform?  Can you tell me about how you plan to use your voice to improve diabetes awareness?

Sierra:  It was my original platform, but before I was Miss Idaho, I didn’t have much of a voice. My platform now is actually a program my sister and I started for kids with developmental disabilities. We put on sports camps for them! The program is called Possibilities for Disabilities. Originally, we just wanted to give them the chance to participate in the fun extracurricular activities their peers do, because we think that sports and music are important to adolescents in finding their identity, discovering their passions, and building confidence. What we soon realized is that the program was doing so much more! We have students at the high school volunteer as “student coaches” and work with the campers. By placing the kids with disabilities in a fun, empowering, positive environment with their peers, it breaks down barriers and helps the kids form friendships with their peers. This has transformed their lives more than anything else! The entire culture of the high school we work with has changed towards the kids in special ed. They have formed identities beyond their disabilities, and are accepted more than they ever would be at another school. I am so excited to have the opportunity to spread Possibilities across the state, and even across the nation, as Miss Idaho!

With my diabetes, the message I try to get across to everyone I come in contact with is this: whatever obstacle they are facing in their life, they can not only overcome it, but use it to become a stronger person, as well as impact the lives of others. There is one girl in my camp who is a high functioning autistic, and has decided to put on a Possibilities camp for her senior project next year. I am so excited. She is doing exactly what I hope I can inspire others to do: take their challenges and use them to serve others.

I love Possibilities for Disabilities, but now that I have a more powerful voice as a diabetic, I am ECSTATIC to use it! Who said I couldn’t have two platforms?

Kerri:  There’s a lot of discussion in the diabetes online community about diabetes stigma.  Have you ever been discriminated against in terms of diabetes?  How did you handle it?

Sierra:  Before my family and close friends were educated, there were some hurtful comments about how my diabetes was my fault, because of the confusion between type 1 and type 2. Aside from that, I cannot recall any other negative experiences, aside from confused and slightly cold questions about my insulin pump. I have been very fortunate!

Kerri:  How can the diabetes community help support you as you make your moves for Miss America?

Sierra:  In a couple weeks, all the Miss America contestants will be publishing their “People’s Choice” videos. America can vote one contestant into the top 15! Only the top 15 get to compete in the televised portion of the pageant. It would mean the world to me if the diabetic community would help me win People’s Choice to guarantee that I have the opportunity to compete with my pump on national television!

Kerri:  Sounds like a plan, Sierra.  Is there anything else you’d like to share?

Sierra:  I am so happy I can have a voice to inspire others who are similar to me, and hope to serve the diabetes community to best of my ability this year! The best way to reach as many diabetics as possible is through the DOC and social media! You can follow my year as Miss Idaho in the following ways:

Twitter: @sierra_anne93, @missidorg
Instagram: missidahoorg, sierra_anne_nicole
Facebook: Miss Idaho Organization

I have also had a lot of people ask me about sending letters and gifts! I adore snail mail, so everyone is welcome to send mail to:  Sierra Sandison, P.O. Box 6159, Twin Falls, ID 83303.  I love you all so, so much! Thank you again for all your support!

Thanks, Sierra!  You can follow more from Sierra on her personal blog, Miss Idaho, and via the #showmeyourpump hashtag.  We’ll be following your journey to Miss America this fall, and supporting you along the way!

Guest Post: The One Diabetes Rule I Always Follow.

Thanks to the magic of the Internet and how words can travel from CA to RI by email faster than a sneeze, I’m happy to be hosting a guest post from friend and fellow PWD, Christopher Angell.  (You may remember him from such glucose tabs as GlucoLift and such guest posts as the one about decAY1c.)  Today, he’s writing about the diabetes rules he’s willing to bend and the one he always follows. 

*   *   *

When I was first diagnosed and started my testing and insulin regimen, I did everything by the book. I disinfected test and injection sites with alcohol swabs (no longer recommended). I used a fresh lancet for every finger stick, and I always removed and properly disposed of my pen needles after each injection. I was a model patient (except on those nights when I washed down a giant bowl of popcorn and a chocolate bar with a bottle or so of pinot noir…).

Over time, however, my diligence started to show some cracks. After one too many meals out where I fished out my Humalog pen only to realize I was out of needles, I started leaving my last used needle on, and only changing it right before my next injection, so that worst case, I wouldn’t have to skip dinner or run home and force everyone else to wait while I retrieved my supplies. After using that “emergency needle” one or two times with no adverse effect, I got more and more lenient, until I was only changing a needle when it started to hurt (or required noticeably more force to do its job). Then of course I figured that if needles could be treated like that, lancets certainly could too- they were far less delicate to begin with, since they weren’t hollow.

When I started on a Dexcom CGM, it didn’t take me long to realize that those expensive sensors could have their lives prolonged without consequence as well, and I was regularly getting more than 14 days out them (I still do). Unlike reusing the relatively cheap lancets and needles, that had a real financial advantage. I also quickly learned that I could save my skin some wear and tear by using sites other than the FDA-approved abdomen. In fact, now I can’t remember the last time I wore a sensor there.

Even insulin, I discovered, was often (though not always) good well after its expiration date, or its 30-day window after opening, and subjecting it to a life outside the fridge was usually surprisingly benign.

Now that I’m on a pump, I generally change my cartridge and tubing every 6 days. I still take Lantus as well, and use one needle for the life of each pen, and I’m confident that I will never have to buy another lancet as long as I live (even if I were to live for 1000 years). So to say that I play fast and loose with the usage guidelines of my diabetes devices is to put it mildly. I don’t do it to be stubborn, and generally speaking I don’t do it to save money (though that’s a welcome result). I do it because every second not buying, storing, or changing a lancet, needle, sensor, or pump cartridge is a second that diabetes hasn’t stolen from me, a second that can be spent sleeping, talking, eating, ANYTHING but diabetes-ing. And if I’ve learned anything from living with a chronic disease, it’s that ultimately there are no small things – over time they all add up. Those seconds becomes hours and days over a lifetime with diabetes, so they’re precious to me, and I will only surrender them to diabetes if I truly believe I’m getting something better in return.

Which brings me to the one rule I DO always follow: I never leave an infusion set in longer than three days. Why? Limited real estate. I already know that prolonged injection/infusion of insulin changes my body, and I can tell the difference between a site that has been in one or two days and one that has been in three. I know that over time, the ability for certain locations to absorb insulin can be compromised, and I know I only have so many locations. I also believe that the next substantial improvement in my treatment will be some version of a dual hormone closed-loop pump (quite possibly Ed Damiano and Steven Russell’s Bionic Pancreas). This means I will need twice as much serviceable tissue to enjoy the full benefit of that treatment. So I’m doing my best to preserve what I have. Spending that time now correlate to very real potential benefits  in the future.

In the meantime, I’ve found other uses for my lancets.

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