Five Years.

Five years ago today, my insulin pump died and a photographer didn't show up. Oh, and I got to marry my best friend.

It was a full day.

It also taught me that one should never stuff an insulin pump under a pair of Spanx in 80+ degree heat while wearing a heavy satin gown. LEARN FROM MY MISTAKES, YOU GUYS.

Wordless Wednesday: Three Years.

Diabetes On My Sleeve.

I'm new to the whole "wearing diabetes on my sleeve" thing. (And when I say "diabetes", I mean "my continuous glucose monitor". And when I say "on my sleeve", I mean "on my arm".)

Aaron and I were at a friend's post-wedding soiree (they got hitched in Vegas - photos looked beautiful! - and had a reception party at their home after they returned) on Saturday night. I was actually wearing the dress in the photo to the right there, so my Dexcom sensor was fully visible on the back of my arm.

I knew very well that it was possible - likely, even - I'd get questions about "that thing on my arm", and I felt prepared and okay with that. If any medical professional out there wants to know what being involved with a community of fellow patients does for someone with diabetes, here's one thing: because I have read the experiences of others who have worn their CGMs out in the open, I felt confident in trying it myself. I didn't really feel ashamed or skittish either - in fact, I think I might have walked a little taller with that CGM sensor out in the open air.

So there I am, plate in hand and spooning up some watermelon, when I feel something nudging my Dexcom sensor. I thought it was Aaron - maybe the tape was coming loose and he was trying to fix it? Nope. It was a lady I'd never met before in my life, with her hand on my Dexcom sensor. A lady who was old enough to be my mother - and therefore, old enough to know better, I'd think.

I had been totally thrown off of my game. Questions? They are totally are welcome, and I was prepared for those. Touching? Totally a WTF moment.

"Um, hi?", I greeted her with.

Still touching the sensor, she said in a very concerned voice, "Oh, my! Is this medication?" Her arm returned to her side.

[First reaction was to say: Yep, it's a nicotine patch. I'm reeeeeally addicted, so they gave me the Super Ginormous Mega one. But, I pocketed that angry and sarcastic response in favor of something more useful. Because, sometimes, I can act like an adult.]

"Sort of. It's a glucose monitor. I have type 1 diabetes, and it helps me see what's happening."

She paused. "Does it work?"

[No, ma'am... it doesn't. I just like how it looks. Don't you think it accents my outfit nicely and brings out the color of my eyes?]

"Yep; it works really well." I tried so, so hard to not make a "Is this really happening?" face, and returned to my meal gathering.

And then she walked away.

I looked at Aaron, to see if he'd witnessed what just happened. His smile and subtle head shake told me that he had.

The moral of this story? I'm not sure. But I do know that this situation didn't bother me nearly as much as it might have before I found the diabetes online community. Primarily because, even as it was happening, I knew that I'd have a story to share with people who could laugh at it right along with me. Having a support system of fellow patients helps me feel more confident in doing what I need to do in order to be healthy, and that's a great thing.

Two Years.

Six and a half years ago, I met my best friend.

Two years ago today, I got to marry you.

Thank you for holding my hand; for winking at me across rooms; 

for making me breakfast.

Thank you for laughing at my lame jokes.

Thank you for continuing to be the funniest guy I've ever met.

Thank you for consistently being the calmest and most easy-going person 

in this here couple.

Thank you for killing the spiders.

Thank you for being who you are, and for loving me - just as I am and will be.

Thank you for agreeing to put up with me for a good long while.

I love you, Aaron. 

Happy anniversary!

In Pump Failure, And In Health.

Some of the most common advice about wedding planning is that while you can try to plan out every detail, it is nearly inevitable that something will still go wrong.  A and I heard this from many people as we planned our wedding, which took place in June of 2009.  A lot of times, however, you don’t realize how good the advice you’re getting is until it becomes reality.

I’ve mentioned before that our wedding day had a couple of minor catastrophes. I’m not talking about flowers being the wrong color or reception food being cold. I’m not talking about hung-over groomsmen or rainy weather. No, when I have a catastrophe, I go big – I’m talking about our photographer not showing up, and my insulin pump dying.

(Let me preface this story by telling you that I’m not sure how I didn’t freak out in a ridiculous fashion about either of these issues. I think my Bubble of Wedding Day Happy must have prevented me from feeling the full force of either situation.)

Pictures were scheduled to start at 9:00 am, with the guys first, then the girls, then all of us as a group. At 9:05, with our photographer nowhere in sight, A got a little worried and got out his cell phone. “Hey, it’s A, just wondering where you are. Hope everything’s okay. Give me a call back.” After a few moments, the photographer called back.

Incompetent Jerk: “Hi, A. What do you need?”

A: “What do I need?  I need you here! Where are you?”

Total Loser: “Um, I’m at home. Why… what’s going on?”

A: “You’re supposed to be here! Right now! It’s 9:10!”

Guy I Wanted To Strangle: “Oh, sh!t. It’s today? I had it written down as next weekend! Oh sh!t! I’m on my way right now….” (Important Detail:  he lived an hour's drive away from where we got married.)

A: “Don’t even bother. We’re done.” *click*

And thus began the couldn’t-be-more-last-minute search for a new wedding photographer. On a Saturday morning. In June; the peak of Wedding Season. (HA!  AHAHAHAHA!  HAAAAA!  /crazed and delusional laughter)

Sheer luck and chance led us to finding someone. And not just someone – a super great guy who’s a well-established photographer in the area. As fate would have it, we caught him on the one Saturday in June he hadn’t booked himself out, because it was his daughter’s birthday. As fate would also have it, his wife was willing to wake him up so we could talk to him (he was still sleeping when we called), and he was willing to give us his whole morning and as much of the afternoon as we needed.  We’ll never be able to fully express our gratitude to him for that.

I also owe thanks to my brother, who was elected as the person who had to go tell me that the photographer wasn’t showing up. That takes courage.

*****************

My wedding day preceded my involvement (or even awareness of) the DOC. I didn’t know that other ladies had pockets built into their wedding dresses for their insulin pumps – so I did on my wedding day what I did every other day; which was to hide it under my clothing via undergarments. More specifically, my Deltec Cozmo pump was between my Spanx and I, and both of us were all wrapped up in layers of satin and tulle.

In retrospect, I can see the trouble brewing. At the time, I thought nothing of it. It’s a waterproof pump! I've had it for four years with no problems!  It’ll be fine!

And, fine it was, until A and I were in the vehicle that transported us from ceremony to reception. We were sitting in the back seat, being excited and nervous (and hungry), when all of a sudden my pump starts incessantly vibrating.

Spanx + wedding dress + sitting down in a car = a pump that’s REALLY HARD TO GET TO.

Upon retrieving it, I noticed that the screen had a bunch of gibberish on it, and that none of the buttons were responding. It kept vibrating, then beeping… and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Nor did I know if it was delivering any – or way too much – insulin. I had to disconnect and take out the battery.
 
And that's when the tears came.  Why now, Mr. Pump?  Of all days in my life, why did you die today?  And not only today, but two days before I'm leaving the country on my honeymoon trip? 
 
In addition, Deltec/Smiths Medical (the manufacturer of my insulin pump) had announced a couple of months prior that they'd decided to discontinue the Cozmo and leave the diabetes supply market.  In my mind, I was imagining horrid scenarios where I'd try to call the customer service 800 number, and that pre-recorded robot lady would tell me "This number is no longer in service".
 
I was also imagining horrid scenarios where I wouldn't get to eat my own wedding cake.
 
Thankfully, for the first time in my insulin-pumping life, I had asked my internist at my last appointment for some back-up supplies.  It never occurred to me that a pump failure could happen on the actual wedding day - I was thinking about the overseas trip.  My brother once again stepped up to the plate by quickly driving to my house, getting the specified supplies out of my fridge, and bringing them to the reception for me. 
 
After the reception, I got on the phone with Smiths Medical.  Let me just say, they were wonderful.  I explained the whole story.  About how it was my wedding day, and my pump had up and died with no prior warning.  About how I was flying overseas within 48 hours.  And you know what?  They had a new (well, refurbished, but a working) insulin pump at my door within 12 hours of my phone call.  Awesome.
 
That very same wedding advice can (and always should have been) applied to my diabetes life, as well.  You can plan and plan, but things can still go wrong.  The best robot parts can still malfunction, and they can have spectacularly bad timing.  Having back-ups of everything helps to make those small bumps in the road seem a bit less like mountains.
 
And that cake?  It was delicious.
 

Possibly the most worthwhile use
of a back-up Humalog pen ever.