This is a rare photo of the Dexcom G5 insertion needle. Yikes! I only captured it because somehow, my last sensor change with the G5 went awry and I wound up being unable to use this particular sensor. Before I threw it away, though, I played with it a bit to see if I could get a closer look at the needle that helps secure the sensor to my skin.
Obviously, the mission was accomplished. Even though I was slightly horrified by the needle’s pointy length, I was also relieved to know that it would be the last time it would puncture my skin. That’s because I knew my G6 was on its way and that one of the major improvements to it was making the whole process painless. Little did I know how true that would be until I put my first G6 sensor on…
In a couple days, I’ll *finally* publish a post that reveals my initial thoughts on my brand-new Dexcom G6. I’ll compare it to my experience with the G5 and share whether I think the G6 is worthy of all the hype it’s received.
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.
My OmniPod (on my arm) and my Dexcom (on my stomach) are stuck on me 24/7.
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.
Currently, I’m on a break from my CGM for an unknown length of time.
This temporary split wasn’t mutual; rather, it was due to a series of coincidences that occurred much to my chagrin. The short version of the story is that my CGM transmitter died a week earlier than I had anticipated. I thought it would be pointless to order a replacement since I was expecting the new Dexcom G6 to arrive at my house before the transmitter expired. When I learned there was a delay that would cause me to wait a little while longer, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice to go ahead and order a replacement G5 transmitter. After all, it was fly blind without my CGM for just a few days versus the possibility of missing out on that data for weeks.
The choice was obvious, and as I write this, my G5 replacement transmitter is on its way to me.
Though there’s comfort in that fact, I feel weird not having my CGM data available to me. It’s kind of nice to be wearing one less medical device on my body, but that’s really the only benefit of being without my CGM. The information it provides to me is invaluable, and an involuntary break from it makes me feel uneasy. I’m constantly reminding myself that I managed diabetes just fine for the first 15 years I had it without a CGM’s aid, which does offer a small amount of comfort. But it also reminds me how important the CGM has become in my daily care choices. Twenty-four hour, real-time updates of my blood sugar help me live a life less interrupted by my diabetes, something that’s extremely difficult to give up after 20 relentless years of dealing with it.
You really don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone – even if it is only for a short period of time.
I’ll make the most of this situation. It will at least help me get in tune with my body’s signals when my blood sugar is high or low, which is definitely not a bad thing. And it makes me appreciate something that not every person with diabetes is lucky enough to have access to: serving as a humbling reminder of my fortunate circumstances.
It’s best explained using pictures. Take the following, for instance:
Beautiful, perfect Instagram
Cold, hard reality
The first image is basically the ideal Dexcom graph. It depicts steady, on-target blood sugars for hours.
It makes the image next to it look that much uglier. The second picture shows blood sugar that rose rapidly over a short amount of time and flattened out at a level so high that it exceeds the Dexcom maximum number.
Instagram: The social networking site that promotes flawlessness. You scroll through a feed and see images that convey society’s notions around perfection. And it’s annoying. The rational part of you knows that, surely, the stunning blonde swimsuit model on your feed probably has cellulite, only you never see it because it’s airbrushed and filtered away. That’s why it’s equally unrealistic to share nothing but the “perfect” blood sugars with the diabetes community. Diabetes is FAR from being sunshine-y and unicorn-y all the time.
The reality: Diabetes is up-and-down, mentally and physically. It’s not always going to behave the way you want it to, even if you’re doing all the right things and trying your best. That’s why I like sharing the good and the bad – it makes the victories that much sweeter, and the less-than-triumphant moments more educational.
Whoa! It’s incredibly surreal to see myself on Dexcom’s Instagram feed, but there I am! Shout out to my T1D buddies who messaged me the day this appeared and made me feel like a rock star!
Glamour shots aside, this quote really does capture how I feel about Dexcom. It’s truly one of the most powerful tools in my diabetes care kit. In addition to helping me improve my blood sugars by giving me crucial data, my CGM also provides me peace of mind because it does a lot of extra work for me – saving me a lot of time and energy.
This just makes me even more excited to get my hands on the Dexcom G6, which is bound to make life with diabetes even easier! I have the feeling that I’ll get one sooner rather than later…
Blood glucose meters serve the sole purpose of checking current levels of glucose in the blood. Pretty self-explanatory, right? And it’s equally obvious that it’s crucial for all meters to generate accurate results so PWD can make the right treatment decisions based on those numbers.
Unfortunately, though, accuracy isn’t always what I get.
The other day, I was running low before bedtime. I corrected with an organic rice crispy treat (honestly, it was a million times better than the brand name kind). I waited nearly an hour for my blood sugar to come up. When my CGM wasn’t showing any progress, I tested: I was 47. It’s rare for me to be that low, so I tested again. 52. I believed it, especially since I was experiencing several hypoglycemic symptoms.
My unicorn bg quickly turned into A Situation.
I chugged a glass of orange juice and plopped down on the couch to wait for signs of improvement. Before long, I was freezing cold – a sure sign I was coming up, because I had been sweating 20 minutes prior. But I didn’t feel comfortable going to bed yet. I wanted to see if my CGM would show an up arrow. When it finally did, I made my way upstairs to brush my teeth and wash my face. In the middle of my routine, though, I decided to glance at my CGM again – and saw the dreaded ??? screen.
I decided then that the Dexcom should be out of commission, a.k.a. not trusted at all, for the remainder of the evening.
I ripped it out and inserted a fresh one, not really caring that it would wake me up in two hours to be calibrated. I would need to set at least two alarms for the middle of the night, anyways, if I decided to go to bed disconnected from my Dex. So it just made sense.
Once that was done, I tested again. I was pretty tired at this point and really didn’t want to have to eat something else, so I did it as quickly as I could. In my haste, I jostled my meter just so – enough that I saw the test strip, already marked with my blood, move slightly as it brushed against my PDM and was placed next to it.
113 mg/dL flashed upon the screen. Normally, I’d be thrilled! But I furrowed my brow. Something just felt…off about that reading. So I tested again.
206.
What?!
I tested a third time – 203. Okay, something was definitely wrong. Either that 113 was wrong (likely) or my meter had just produced two wildly inaccurate blood sugars in a row (less likely).
This is one of the many times that it’s convenient to live with another PWD. I asked my mom if I could borrow her test kit and see what result it generated. Seconds later…a twin 203 popped up on the screen, reassuring me that the 113 was a fluke on my meter.
Relief with the reality and irritation with the technology washed over me simultaneously as I went to correct the high with a bolus. I was glad I wasn’t heading down again, but irked that my meter had failed me. True, it was a bit of human error there, but aren’t we at a point in technological advancements where this sort of thing just shouldn’t happen? I put my life into the “hands” of my meter, Dexcom, and OmniPod. They should produce results that are undoubtedly accurate.
Okay, this isn’t a real blog post. But this is a very accurate representation of my diabetes lately. It’s like a moody teenager, filled with sudden ups and downs and likely to sour the mood of everyone around it.
Hey, diabetes? Get it together? Pretty please, with sugar-free sprinkles on top?
Call me crazy, but sometimes, I find myself staring at my Dexcom app in anticipation of catching the numbers changing.
It might be because I’m hoping for a change (coming down from a high, coming up from a low). Or it could be because I find a strange satisfaction in receiving real-time data of my blood sugar levels. Whatever, so be it: I’m a diabetes nerd!
Watching the 3 point drop…
…brought me a bizarre sense of delight.
I remember this particular example bringing me happiness, because I’d been hovering pretty close to my high limit (170 mg/dL) for a couple hours. So watching that three-point shift happen reassured me that I was going to come down. And sure enough, 15 minutes after capturing these screenshots, I was going down closer to my target of 100.
When it comes to diabetes…it’s the little things, right? Am I the only one who likes monitoring my CGM this closely, every once in a while? Or am I just weird?
One Monday per month, I’ll take a trip down memory lane and reflect on how much diabetes technology, education, and stigma has changed over the years. Remember when…
…Dexcom CGMs made their debut?
It was just over ten years ago that the Dexcom SEVEN CGM System launched. I didn’t actually know more about it, though, until a couple years after the fact. That was when my endocrinologist encouraged me to sign up for a week-long trial run with this new technology to see how I liked it.
Then: The Dexcom SEVEN CGM System
I didn’t like it, I LOVED it. I quickly became obsessed with the ability to monitor my blood sugar levels at all times. But it’s funny to think back to how bulky and just plain different that first-generation system was compared to today’s sleek and highly functional models.
A few key differences between now and then:
Size. The first CGM was large. It was roughly the size of my OmniPod PDM, which might not seem so significant, but it is when measured up against newer CGM models.
Display. The screen on my first CGM was very simple. No colors, no frills – just readings of my blood sugar. That was all fine, but I have to say that I’m a fan of color-coordinated blood sugar reports (red for low, yellow for high, gray for in-range numbers). In a weird way, it motivates me to keep my graph as gray as possible.
Distance restrictions. I hated that I had to keep my first CGM so close to me at all times, or else run the risk of losing data! It was hyper sensitive and my readings would be lost if I left the same room as the CGM for more than a couple of minutes. My CGM is now able to pick up readings from much farther away – sometimes, even when I’m downstairs and it’s upstairs.
Sounds. My memory is a little foggier on how the sounds compare between old and new Dexcom CGM generations, but I do recall the beeps and vibrations being far more aggressive and annoying on older models.
Smartphone access. This might be one of the biggest and best changes – the ability to download an app on your smartphone that can replace a Dexcom receiver. How awesome is that? Plus, if you choose to do so, you can invite family and friends to monitor your blood sugar along with you, which can be helpful in certain situations. Cell phones are so ingrained into society, so this move was brilliant on Dexcom’s part.
Now: Dexcom data, on my iPhone!
All these improvements have made me a member of Team Dexcom for life. It’ll be neat to see what they come up with next to help make the lives of people with diabetes easier and better.
The choice was obvious, and as I write this, my G5 replacement transmitter is on its way to me.
Hugging the Cactus 