What (Not) to Wear: Medical Device Edition

I’m going to two weddings this spring and summer and rather than stressing about which dress I’ll wear to each, I’m finding myself more focused on where I’ll wear my insulin pump and my CGM.

It might sound like I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, but truly, I’m having a hard time deciding whether or not I want to make an effort to hide my devices or don them proudly along with my formalwear. Now when I say “hide”, I don’t mean that I want them out of sight because I’m ashamed of them or anything negative like that. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m proud of and grateful for my pump and CGM, but that doesn’t mean that I want them to be front and center on a special occasion. I’d rather let my style – my dress, my make-up, and my jewelry – shine because they’re more reflective of who I am as a person. My diabetes is also a part of my identity, but I don’t want to showcase it if it can be avoided. I also don’t want to attract stares, because whether I like it or not, people will always look and wonder what my pod and CGM are and why I have to wear them.

At a family wedding a few years ago, I was proud to showcase my cute pod sticker…but these days, I’m not so sure that I want to go about advertising my diabetes so boldly at a couple of upcoming weddings!

So based on that logic alone, I’m leaning towards wearing my pod and CGM on sites around my abdomen or legs, keeping them neatly tucked away underneath my wedding attire. But I also need to take into account my site change days. My pod is changed every 3 days, and my CGM sensor is replaced every 10 days. I could plan backwards from the wedding dates and figure out where I need to place my pod and sensor according to that, but let’s be real here: I don’t always have the mental bandwidth to plan that far in advance. Pod and sensor site changes are so routine to me at this point that I just kind of go through the motions every time that I change them, and don’t give much thought to their particular placement beyond making sure that I’m properly rotating my sites. Maybe I’m just being lazy by claiming it’s too much extra work, but honestly, there’s so much work that already goes into diabetes on a daily basis that I just don’t want to give in and plan out a site change timeline that guarantees covered-up diabetes devices.

We’ll see what happens, but one thing is for sure: Whether I showcase my sensor and pod in visible spots or if I choose to keep them covered up, I won’t let my diabetes spoil any aspect of having a great time celebrating at both weddings.

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What It’s Like to Wear a Medical Device 24/7

This was originally published on Hugging the Cactus on May 7, 2018. I’m sharing it again today because for as long as I continue to wear an insulin pump and CGM, I know that this is a question that I’ll be asked. Wearing these pieces of medical technology almost all the time has certainly changed how I feel about my body and my body image, and I elaborate on that below…

A question I’m often asked is: “Can you feel your CGM or insulin pump on your body?”

The simple answer to that is: usually, no. It’s something that you just get used to. You grow accustomed to seeing a lump underneath your clothing. You adjust to putting clothes on (and taking them off) carefully to avoid accidentally ripping a site out. You acclimate to showering without being completely naked.

And, of course, you get used to the questions from strangers asking about that device stuck to you.

But the more honest answer to that question would be that there are times that I feel it more than others. For example, sometimes I forget where I’m wearing my pump until I hit it against something (I’m a major klutz who constantly runs into doorways and trip over things, almost always managing to catch my pod on whatever it is), resulting in pain at the site and a curse word or two to fly out of my mouth.

I feel it the most, though, when people stare. Whether unconsciously or purposely, people do ogle at it in very not subtle manners. Which makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. It’s worse when they don’t even ask me what it is – I’d rather have a chance to use it as a teaching moment than to have someone walk away not knowing what the device does. This tends to make swimsuit season a little less welcome for me. Nothing will stop me from donning a bathing suit at the beach or by the pool, and I do so as much as possible in the summertime. But it’s just not as fun when I’ve got to cope with lingering looks, especially when I’m an admittedly insecure person in the first place.

So it’s a more complex question to answer than you might realize. Wearing a medical device 24/7 is humbling. It keeps me alive. I’m privileged to have access to it. I’m grateful for the ways it’s improved my life. I’m always wearing it, but it’s not at the forefront of my mind – unless it chooses to make its presence known by alarming, or I’ve got people blatantly checking it out. It’s kind of like diabetes itself. It can make you feel a gamut of emotions, but no matter what, it’s always there. It’s just a part of me, and I can deal with that.

Swimsuit Season is Here and My Diabetes Gadgets and I are Not Ready

A “yay”: Summer is here!!! Hooray for warm weather, beach trips, and backyard BBQs! (Not to mention VACCINES!)

A “nay”: My pods and my CGM sensors are about to bare themselves for the world to see and we are NOT READY for it.

My confidence in my appearance is rarely, if ever, high. But I like to fake it ’til I make it and act like I’m rocking my summer wardrobe instead of stressing about how my legs or arms look in the staples of the season that are designed to show more skin.

Usually, I have a lot more success in feeling good about how my medical devices appear on my body. Whether they’re hidden under my clothes or out for the world to see, I typically don’t care because these gadgets are keeping me alive!!! And that’s a lot more important than any negative body image connotations they may create.

A picture from a time during which I was very okay with PDA (public displays of my arms).

But something about this year feels different to me. I am so not looking forward to the extra stares that my diabetes technology attracts. I’m not sure if it has to do with being sheltered in the last year and a half because of the pandemic, but whatever the cause may be, this is something I’m grappling with as the temps creep up and the temptation to hit the beach grows stronger.

I know I’m not the only one dealing with this. In fact, I was in Maine for a couple of days with my parents and I was wearing my pod on my leg, whereas my mom had hers on her arm. And we had multiple people approach us about our pods! They weren’t necessarily rude in their approaches – curiosity drove them to speak with us and that’s innocent enough – but it’s still weird to know that people are looking closely enough at our bodies to see our devices and feel comfortable enough to ask us about them. Plus, I felt extra self-conscious about it because in typical Molly fashion, I had a sunburn all around my pod thigh site…when applying sunscreen, I almost always miss the area directly around my pods because I’m afraid of the sunscreen making my adhesive weaker or interfering with the pod’s functionality. So not only did I have this big chunk of plastic sitting on my leg, it was also red all around the site, drawing even more attention to it. It was a relief when I was able to put shorts on over my swimsuit and cover up both the burn and the pod.

So while I’m not loving how wary I’ve felt lately about baring my diabetes devices, I’m also coming to terms that it’s just a sort of phase that I’m going through right now. And that’s okay. I’m also trying to remind myself that I don’t have to feel obligated to go into detailed explanations when people ask me about my pod or CGM. It’s a natural tendency that I have to use it as a teaching moment and be a good diabetes advocate, but sometimes I just don’t have the energy for it. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that as the summer season goes on, my comfortability with my diabetes devices increases and I worry less about the looks they tend to draw.

My Speckled Fingertips

A lesser-known fact about me: I used to love writing poetry. I wrote tons of it when I was a middle schooler and sometimes used it to explore the emotions I associated with my diabetes. I even won a prize in a poetry competition once for a poem that was about my journey to accepting my diabetes. Today, I revisit my poetry roots in this short piece about the scars that years of fingerstick checks have left on my fingertips.

If you squint reeeeeeeal hard, then you can see the careful placement of fingertip scars that I put onto this graphic hand. (I tried to take a picture of my own with less-than-satisfactory results, so a cartoon representation will have to do.)

Tiny black dots
Littered across my fingertips
These fingertip freckles are
Constant reminders of
Decades of life with type 1 diabetes
My speckled fingertips
Rough from the scars
Worn from thousands of pricks
Poked and prodded and pinched
Countless times
As part of the process to
Help keep me alive
Blood droplets
Flood scarlet, startlingly red
In contrast to my fair skin
Temporarily masking the marks
When wiped clean
They reveal themselves
Unashamedly
Loudly
Proudly
Maybe I should be
Proud of them, too.


Navigating New Insulin Pump Sites and Nerves

Am I the only T1D out there who feels incredibly nervous about trying new insulin infusion sites?

I’ve been this way as long as I can remember, now that I’m thinking about it. Throughout my childhood, I stubbornly stuck to injecting in my arms, legs, and upper buttocks (tee-hee) because those were the areas I felt comfortable with. I don’t think I even considered jabbing myself in my stomach until I was in my teens, and it was only after I realized the importance of site rotation and reducing scar tissue.

So it’s kind of funny that when I went on the OmniPod just over five years ago, I only used my stomach and my lower back (just above the upper buttocks region, tee-hee) for pod placements. It was partly because my guinea pig – I mean, my mom – used those areas for her pods with success, and also because I was hesitant in the beginning to wear my pods on my arms or legs because of their increased visibility.

It went that way for a couple of year – four basic sites ’round my abdomen – when it occurred to me yet again that site rotation was also important for insulin pumpers, not just MDI-ers (multiple daily injection…ers). So I added my upper arms into the mix, and soon after, my upper thighs followed.

Navigating New Insulin Pump Sites and Nerves
The little diagram (courtesy of Insulet/OmniPod) above only shows a few of the sites that people with diabetes use…over the years, we’ve gotten a lot more creative!

But lately, I’ve shied away from wearing pods on my thighs because the area isn’t overly comfortable. When I roll over in my sleep at night, my pod presses up against my leg and the resulting pressure is just enough to disrupt my sleep and make it difficult for me to find a more restful position to sleep in.

As a result, I’ve started contemplating potential new pod sites, and one of the first places I went to for advice was…Instagram! Because…duh.

The DOC (diabetes online community) on Insta is a natural resource for this sort of thing because many people tend to share photos of their sites. It’s kind of a thing. One simple scroll through my feed taught me that people can get very inventive when it comes to finding new locations to place their CGMs and insulin pump infusion sites.

I saw people wearing Dexcoms on their forearms and calves. I saw pods on backs, calves, and even the upper chest area, the latter of which I found most intriguing. For men, it seems like a very accessible spot that causes little irritation, but for women? How the heck did the T1D ladies I saw with pods on their chest deal with it?

The general consensus, it seemed, was that women wearing pods on the upper chest agreed it was a site with great absorption and minimal discomfort.

I was still skeptical, though. I was worried about how it would look if I was wearing a v-neck tank with my pod poking out of, well, my bra! Then it hit me that my pod garners questions from strangers regardless of where it’s located. Furthermore, people will (probably?) be less likely to ask about it if it’s located on my chest because, um, that’s really awkward. My eyes are up here, people!!!

Then I remembered: I could give the site a try without wasting a pod because I have a demo pack that I got from a diabetes conference awhile back! The demo pack comes with a dummy pod that looks and feels just like a regular pod, but there’s no reservoir built into it, so insulin can’t be injected into it.

So right now, as I’m writing this, I’m wearing two pods: one on my upper arm that’s actually giving me insulin, and a fake one on my chest just to see how I like it. I must admit, so far, so good! I slept comfortably with it on last night and I haven’t had any issues wearing clothing or undergarments with it. I even went for a jog with it on and got pretty sweaty, but it stayed secure/I didn’t feel it bouncing around at all (thought the adhesive got a bit too damp for my liking…it stayed on but if I wasn’t careful I totally could’ve knocked it off).

While I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around an actual cannula piercing my skin at this location (eeeek), now that I know I can handle the pod itself living there, I’m one step closer to trying (and liking) a site that’s more intimidating to me – a win in my book.

A Device-Free Shower

For the first time in *literally* years, I took a device-free shower the other day.

AND IT WAS AMAZING.

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Ta-ta for now, little friends.

Let me clarify that by device-free, I mean that I wasn’t wearing a pump or a CGM on my body. Both were due to be changed that evening, so with what can only be described as unadulterated glee, I peeled my Dexcom followed by my pod off my body before practically leaping into the shower.

It probably sounds funny, and perhaps a little dramatic or flat-out fucking weird, but those 15 minutes without a single medical device stuck to me were glorious. I wasn’t worried about accidentally knocking something off. I was free to scrub off the adhesive that had kept the devices stuck to my skin, and I felt oddly empowered – carefree, even – that I could enjoy one of the most mundane daily routines without needing to worry about my diabetes. Sure, for the duration of my shower, I wasn’t receiving my basal rate of insulin, but I really didn’t care because 1) I took a small bolus to compensate for it before I removed my pod and 2) I was more focused on doing this one little thing for myself to reclaim my body from diabetes devices, even if it was for a short window of time.

So you might argue that I had my first truly nekkid shower for the first time in forever. And it made me happy. A brief reprieve from diabetes is always welcome, and I’ll take it in whatever silly form I can get it in.

Feeling Pretty with Diabetes

Diabetes can be an ugly disease.

It’s defined by finger pricks, drops of blood, infusion site bruises. Diabetes rarely leaves beautiful markings behind on the body; rather, it can make me feel unsightly.

Needless to say, diabetes occasionally makes me feel worse about my body. I try to project body confidence when around others, but on the inside, I’m terribly self-conscious about the way I look.

So that’s why it was wonderful to feel pretty with diabetes this past weekend.

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Unicorns on my patch and in the background. Because you can’t be surrounded by too many unicorns. If only someone would tell that to my blood sugar…

I got all dressed up to go to a “punk prom” that my friend helped organize. The night was all about singing along to the angst-filled tunes of our youth, listening to local bands jam out onstage, and getting glamorous so we could pose for an endless number of photos with fellow attendees.

In the hours leading up to the event, I was a bit anxious about wearing my insulin pump and CGM in visible spots. They didn’t exactly match the dress I’d dug out from the bowels of my closet (and that I’d last worn in the 9th grade). But as I applied hairspray to my carefully coiffed curls, it hit me that I should just own the look. Sure, nothing about boring medical adhesive or the words “Dexcom G6” screams formal wear, but I had a couple tricks up my sleeve that could doll up my gear nicely.

Namely, I had Patch Peelz. Created by the folks over at Pump Peelz, this patterned tape could make my CGM look fancy. Between the unicorn print and the dark purple and blue color scheme, the patch would look like it was styled to match my dress. I couldn’t help but beam once I was 100% ready for the evening. Coordinated aesthetics aside, I felt like one of the unicorns on my patch: magical, vivacious, and yes, pretty.