Unlucky 13

I'm not a particularly superstitious person.

Actually, I'm not superstitious at all. To me, a black cat is just a black cat and magpies are just magpies. I'll happily cut my nails, and my hair, when I want and I'll walk over any number of drains in the street. I don't walk under ladders, but that is common sense, not superstition!

Thirteen?

Just a number.

Thirteenth of the month?

Just a day...

Or so I thought. But whether it was the date or something else entirely, the blood sugar monsters have been out to get me today.

It started off badly. At around a quarter to two this morning, I woke up to find my pump and I had parted company. It had made a bid for freedom out of the far side of the bed leaving its tail of tubing trailing in its wake, infusion set still attached, ripped clean from my body.

There was a very big part of me that wanted to leave it there. I wanted to stick two fingers up at it and say "You can't get one over on me. If you fancy a night sleeping on the floor, you've got it!"

The idea of rolling over and ignoring the problem entirely was given more consideration that it surely should have been.

But diabetes invades my every waking hour. I don't want it invading my sleep. I wanted to ignore it so badly.

Of course I didn't. I didn't even really pursue a mental calculation of how many hours until I would be getting up and whether I could get by on a interim shot of Humalog. Instead, I forced myself out from under my warm duvet into the cold of the bedroom to collect a new infusion set. Given that I only had around 20 units left in the reservoir, I grabbed one of those as well and proceeded to replace the entire shebang.

By late this afternoon, I was back wishing I'd left the pump where it was. The infusion set having been placed through a blur of sleep, the adhesive had caught up a little and it has irritated and scratched at my skin all day. And as for my blood sugars, they've soared and crashed from 2 to 20 and back again.

I'm frustrated.

I want to blame my pump because it is a tangible object. I love my pump, but unlike my other love, this relationship is tinged with hatred and resentment. I wish I didn't rely so totally on it. I wish I had a fully functioning body that didn't need it.

That's the bottom line. It's diabetes that I'm frustrated with. It's diabetes that I want to toss out of my bed.

But I can't.

So I'll resign myself to the fact that today was an unlucky day; Tomorrow is a new one.

Comments

[amylia]

tomorrow is another day, indeed.
thanks for sharing this.
sending you a hug and good wishes for a new day.

[Scott K. Johnson]

Great post Caro - I too have a love / hate relationship with the tools we use.