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Posts tagged ‘insulin pump’

Free Shower.

(to the tune of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ Free Fallin’)

He’s a good pump, does his job well
Loves priming and bolusing too.
He’s a good pump, crazy ‘bout islets
Gives insulin when those islets don’t come through.

It’s a long week being my Dex sensor
There’s adhesive workin’ while I play
And I’m a happy girl cause I don’t even miss them
I’m a happy girl on site change day

And I’m free, free showerin’
Yeah I’m free, free showerin’

All devices are sitting on my counter
Going nowhere until I put them on my bod.
And all the good pumps are taking their short leave
And all the good sensors are still in plastic sleeves

‘Cause I’m free, free showerin’
Yeah I’m free, free showerin’

Free showerin’, now I’m free showerin’
Now I’m free showerin’, now I’m free showerin’

I’m gonna dry off and refill my cartridge
I’m gonna peel back adhesive tapey rings
I’m gonna free shower but then when it’s over
I’ll reconnect with these live-saving things.

For now I’m free, free showerin’
Yeah I’m free, free showerin’

Yeah I’m free, free showerin’
Oh! Free showerin’
Now I’m free
Oh!
Free showerin’

What is it like to take insulin?

This was a search term that brought someone over to SixUntilMe, and I realized they probably didn’t find their answer easily.  I don’t have a pile of “How To” and “Five Ways You Can …” sort of articles, despite the Internet trend in that direction.  (Closest I’ve come is the one about the ten best cocktails for people with diabetes.)  But I wanted to address it.  So …

What’s it like to take insulin?

The act of inserting the needle is one thing.  Years ago, I drew insulin into a syringe from a vial, tapping out the bubbles and then pressing the needle tip to my skin. Thirty years ago, my style was to press the needle through my skin in a slow, deliberate sort of manner, using the speed to gauge whether or not the injection site would hurt (and if it felt uncomfortable at first press, I’d move to a different site).  I still do it this way now, whether it’s a syringe, an insulin pen, or the infusion set for my insulin pump.  Controlling the pain is important to me.  It’s on the short list of things I can control.

The kind of insulin has changed for me throughout the years, as well.  Upon diagnosis in 1986, I took Regular and NPH, which were pretty sluggish and forced me to plan my meals around my morning insulin injection. I’ve also used Lente, UltraLente, Lantus, Levemir, Tresiba, Humalog, and Novolog.  NPH used to be rolled in my mother’s hands so it would mix properly before injection.  Lantus burned when I took it, and the burn would spread under the injection site for a second or two.  I’m currently using Humalog in my pump.  It claims to start working in 15 minutes but my body seems to make that timeline 35 min.

Insulin is serious stuff.  It lowers blood sugars.  Not enough keeps blood glucose levels higher than is safe, subjecting my body to the abuses of elevated sugars.  Too much insulin throws me into a “hypoglycemic event.”  I’ve had a number of low blood sugar episodes that have scared me.  “Scared me” isn’t really a fair description, either, because in some of those moments, I wondered if I was going to die.  Not being dramatic, but more pragmatic.  Will I be able to consume enough glucose to keep me from passing out, going into a coma, dying?  These thoughts sometimes go through my mind like a ticker tape when I’m severely hypoglycemic.

Physically, aside from putting a needle into my body, insulin is crucial to my body’s metabolic processes.  I’d be dead without it.  Dead.  It keeps my body from starving to death.  Acknowledging that is crazy, and gives way to the other side of taking insulin:  the headspace side.

Acknowledging that my ability to stay alive relies on the contents of a small, glass vial is humbling as hell.  The fact that so many people with diabetes cannot afford or access insulin and they die without it is beyond humbling.  Every time I finish a bottle of insulin, I make sure to grab every last bit, waiting for any bubbles to burst and grabbing them when they go liquid.  I do not waste insulin.  A bottle broken against bathroom tile is mourned.  And as the price of insulin continues to climb, my panic response does as well because not having insulin is not an option if I want to continue to exist.

That’s some crazy shit to think about as I tap the bubbles from a syringe.

So what’s it like to take insulin?  Humbling, if I think about how lucky I am to be alive after Banting and Best worked their magic.

But the weird thing is, on most days, I don’t think about it.  This hormone I’d die without, this item in my fridge that’s worth more than my entire house in total, it’s not something I deliberate or celebrate every day.  I just take it, ignoring any quick pinch on my skin and moving on.

… and that right there illustrates how lucky I am.  Which is why I’m ending this post with a call to donate to Life for a Child through IDF.  Nothing like sparing a rose a few months early.

Blood Sugar Turbulence.

“The captain has the seatbelt sign on.  Please stay in your seats until the seatbelt sign is turned off.  This is for your safety.”

The flight attendants were also in their seats, having suspended drink service.

Turbulence sucks, but it passes quickly … usually.  Unfortunately, on this flight it seemed like it was going to be a 20 – 30 minute wigglefest for the plane.  And also unfortunately, we were at 38,000 feet and my blood sugars appeared to be making the same climb.

I’ve noticed, especially since my pregnancy last year, that I need to change my infusion set at the three day mark, or my absorption goes full crumb (climbing blood sugars, sticky highs).  I was traveling home from the TCOYD ONE conference in San Diego (awesome event –  more on that conference tomorrow) and my “it’s been three days – change your site!” alarm went off the day before.  I was on borrowed time, infusion-set wise.

I meant to change it at the airport but time was too tight.  And I had no intentions of changing it at my airplane seat, but my blood sugars were high, seemingly stuck there, and I needed to swap out that site ASAP.  Who know how long the air was going to be rough, and I could already see that my blood sugars were in garbage mode. So, tucked against the window and using my scarf as a barrier between me and my seatmates, I was able to quietly change out my site.

Covert site change on the plane. #insulincognito #latergram

A post shared by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

And yes, the beeps are usually loud an intrusive but the speaker for the X2 is on the backside of the pump – that series of little holes – so keeping my hand firmly over that part made for a subtle set change.  Shrugged my shoulder out of my shirt and popped the infusion set on the back of my arm and I was good to go without even a side-eyed glance from my seat mates.

Stealth set changes at 38,000 feet without going into the nasty little airplane bathroom? And blood sugars that started coming down within 20 minutes of the set change? Check and check. See ya, blood sugar turbulence.

Makeshift Solution.

Arriving at the hotel last night, I realized my insulin pump needed a swap-and-refill.  I pulled out all the necessary supplies for a pump site change and dumped them onto the hotel bed.

The little insulin bottle protector* I use keeps my insulin safe(r).  But it also covers the vial, so I didn’t realize the bottle was all-but empty until I took it out.

“SHIT.”

I get made fun of for being over prepared.  My purse is a cauldron of pacifiers, extra clothes for the little Guy, spare infusion sets, insulin pens, and lip smacker (oh hell yes).  Most of the time, my shoulders are not thankful for this extra crap.

But last night, I was lucky that I had a spare Humalog pen rolling around in my bag, at the ready to refill my empty insulin pump.  After (all ten thousand of) the air bubbles were knocked out, I was good to go.

(Also, weird note:  I had two insulin pens in my backpack, and one was completely empty, all air.  Does the insulin eek out when I’m flying?  Yes, I keep the pen tip attached to the pen.  And yes, after typing all of this, I realize the insulin is probably squirting out when the plane cabin changes pressures.)  

Thanks, sometimes achy shoulders, for lifting all those “just in case” supplies.  And to my brain for knowing those supplies would come in handy at random.

 

* Here’s where you can buy an insulin vial protector.  Clicking on this link does not make me a cent.  But it might protect your insulin bottle from a SMASH.  So get on that.

 

That Clip, Though.

I’ve been using the t:slim pump for the better part of a year now, and over the last few months (here’s a handy disclosure that you should read for context on my relationship with Tandem), I’ve appreciated the new set of options that the t:slim has brought into my diabetes life.

… man, that sounds a little formal.  I’m too pregnant for formality at the moment.  (My feet have officially given up on being feet and refuse any covering other than socks or flip flops, and my son is moving visibly as I type, making sitting close to my desk a challenge. Eff formality.)  The reasons for the t:slim being a badass addition to my diabetes management RIGHT THIS SECOND are that I can take a bolus in a matter of seconds without scrolling through fifty different screens, I can edit my basal or insulin:carb needs with a few beeps, and the 300 unit reservoir is going to come in handy these last few weeks of pregnancy.

One challenge I’ve historically had with the t:slim pump, however, is the clip that is shipped out with it.  For me, the clip was a little bulkier than I preferred and also not as secure as I needed.  I wanted streamlined and secure, and as my pregnant body expands and clothing options like “pockets” and “waistbands” have been shoved into the distance.  I need my pump clip to be able to hang on by a thread.

This one works great, though:

I love this clip. #tslim #diabetes #insulinpump

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

A friend suggested this clip to me and gave me one of theirs, but since trying it out, I’ve keep a spare or two on hand because it seriously solves all of my pump clip troubles.  The tape is very secure and I’ve had the same pump clip stay successfully stuck for the last six months.  I have no relationship with the company who makes the clip, and this is not an affiliate link or anything like that, but if you want to try out a pump clip for your t:slim (or any other pump) that is subtle, streamlined, and strong, this Nite Ize Hip Clip is worth a shot.

Hey! An informative post! Who saw that coming? Not me. Bring on the cat gifs.

cat filing his nails

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