Eight months ago I was more than ready. I was sick of high blood sugars, waking up at three AM in the hopes of staving off morning highs, correcting all day, lows that I could not predict, and A1c’s that had never been anything lower than 8. I was a little nervous. What if I couldn’t deal with site changes? Bleeders? What would it be like to have such a huge part of this disease in my pocket, instead of stowed away in my purse? Would it be worth it? I wasn’t quite sure, and I’m still not certain that I have all the answers. I know I love the fact that I see good numbers more than bad ones. Going days without a number over 200 isn’t a surprise, it’s the norm. Having A1c’s under 7 make me feel great not only physically, but emotionally. I’ve never been prouder of how much control I can have with disease. It’s almost as if I’m playing a game, except the only person I’m trying to one up is me. A new trick with a meal bolus, lowering my averages, lowering my A1c, basal rate shifts, anything to win this never ending match between myself and this disease. But it can’t always be a game and it’s not always perfect.
There another side to this story.
I find myself holding off on site changes because I don’t want to look for a spot that isn’t scabbed and puffy. I hate the scabs. The patterns are like constellations, but instead of resembling a fearless hunter or a great bear, they just show me what my body isn’t capable of. The pump companies talk about how a pump makes your life easier with Diabetes, but I don’t think this is always true. Before I was on my pump I wondered if it would serve as a constant reminder, and for the first few months it didn’t seem that it would be. Now I know I was wrong. I can’t help but feel self conscious of the tubing, or the little glances someone will make at an infusion set on my arm. I feel different from everyone else. The responsibility makes me feel older and less free. There are even days when I seriously think about taking a break, giving it up. I know I won’t, but sometimes my mind wanders to what it was like when I didn’t pick outfits based on where my infusion set was or make plans based on infusion set changes. Some days are harder than others, but all I need to do is think of that first A1c of 6.8 to remind me that it’s worth it even when it doesn't seem that way.
(I wrote this entire post without knowing that today was the actual eight month anniversary of my pump arriving. Crazy.)