I freaking love my insulin pump.
|My first pump!|
image credit here
Holy major life changes, Batman.
This happened sometime in mid-August. I don't know the exact date of my "pumpaversary."
I've posted before about why I got a pump in the first place. Sorry if I'm repeating myself. Between sixth and eighth grade, I had three low seizures in the middle of the night. NPH (also known as "The Insulin Who Shall Not Be Named"), had wicked peaks for me. I would bottom out like none other. Same with Ultra Lente.
So every night my mom woke me up to test and eat to prevent another seizure.
Every single night.
And so when I hear about lives lost to Type 1 Diabetes, like the two we learned about yesterday, I can't help but shudder.
That could have been me.
My parents' bedroom was upstairs, mine was downstairs. And yet, they woke up for every seizure. And called 911. And I was ok.
But it could have ended differently. Though this was long before Facebook or Twitter, someone could have been lighting a blue candle for me.
|image credit here|
My heart hurts for those families. It feels heavy in my chest.
But we all know the fear. And I can't help but be so grateful that I am still here.
That pump that my pediatric endo and parents fought so hard to get changed my life. I don't feel it's an exaggeration to say that it saved my life.
For 14 years now, I been attached to this little machine. Doing sets changes. Filling reservoirs. Tucking tubing back in my pants when it sneaks out.
14 years without a break. Doesn't mean I won't ever take one. And I'm not saying that a pump is the right choice for everyone. That's not true. It is the right choice for me.
Since I was able to get the CGM, I am a little less afraid. That safety net does make me feel better, and has woken me up when I've gone low at night.
But I don't think anything will ever take away that fear. Especially when you hear of other lives this disease has claimed.
I had trouble sleeping last night. Not because I was afraid. My CGM graph was rather pretty, actually. But I couldn't turn my brain off. When someone with Type 1 dies, it makes you think about all the things you try to block out. All those feelings and emotions come to the surface. Like it could have been me.
Diabetes is scary. Most days, it goes ok. Most days, I think, "I can do this." And I can. But it can be scary as hell.
Today, I am reminded why I love my pump. Why it's worth the kinked sets and air bubbles and vampire cannulas. I love this little purple, cupcake-covered pump.
But it's not enough. We need a closed-loop system. We need that Artificial Pancreas. And a cure? While I can barely dare to hope for one, we need it. People are dying.
I know this post is all disorganized and rambly, but it's where my brain is right now. It was going to be all about celebrating my pump. So happy pumpaversary to me. I love my pump as much as it's possible to love an inanimate object. But today, it's not enough.