A long, unfaltering, high-pitched beep was emitting from something in the pharmacy. I saw heads turn in the vicinity as fellow customers, as well as myself, tried to identify the source of the noise.
I gulped. Could it be coming from me? Did my OmniPod fail right then and there as I was picking up my prescription?
I anxiously dug through my backpack, my fingers searching for my PDM, until they met it. I pulled it out and prayed that all was well, that my pod was working as it should be.
A quick press of a button, and…I confirmed that my PDM and pod were, indeed, working properly. Simultaneously relieved yet still bemused by the noise, I put my PDM away while I scanned the area around me, determined to find out what was making a sound so similar to my OmniPod.
What was the culprit? Well, you know those little plastic boxes that drugstores encase things like razor blades in, to prevent theft? That was the thing emitting a blaring beep, in this situation. And like I’d initially assumed, it was coming from me: I was holding one of those boxes in my hand (because I was about to purchase razor blade replacement cartridges), and I’d unintentionally obscured the sensor that triggers the alarm to go off.
While it was nice to know that my insulin pump hadn’t failed on me, it was still somewhat embarrassing to discover that I was the cause of the ruckus, anyways.
Lesson learned: Keep those protective plastic cases in plain sight so I won’t have to misidentify what the beep is coming from.
…What could those three things possibly have to do with each other?
Turns out, a lot more than you think. At least, if your name is Molly, you have diabetes, you do workouts in the mornings, and on top of all that, you have a paralyzing fear of bugs.
All of these things created a bit of a perfect storm last week during the early morning hours. My day started out normally: My alarm blared at 6:15, I rolled out of bed, changed into exercise clothes, and hit the play button on my DVD player. I completed a grueling half hour “Total Body Cardio Fix”, a series of exercises that are a part of the 21 Day Fix program. By the end of the workout, I was sweating profusely, but proud of myself for keeping up with this relatively new addition into my morning routine.
I proceeded getting ready (take shower, get dressed, do make-up). Towards the end of my make-up application, as I was blending concealer under my eyes in an attempt to cover up the dark circles, I happened to spot something on my carpet out of the corner of my eye. I hunched down to take a closer look and initially though it was a clump of stray threads on my floor – but I very quickly discovered it was something else. A nasty, ugly stink bug!!! Ugh, I hate those things. They’re so icky to look at, they FLY, and they release a horrible odor when you smoosh them. There is legitimately nothing to appreciate about them.
If you know me well enough, you know that I have what my parents kindly refer to as the “bug scream”. That’s how much I dislike creepy crawlies of all varieties. So as it dawned on me that I was looking right at one, I blood-curdling one escaped my lips and I ran as fast as I could out of my room. Unfortunately, though, I had to scamper back in to grab my test kit, PDM, and CGM so I could figure out what to do while I had my breakfast.
As I paced back and forth in the kitchen, trying to come up with a bug elimination stratagem, I heard a “BUZZBUZZBUZZ” from the other room. No, it wasn’t another bug – thanks heavens for that – but it was my CGM. The combination of early morning cardio and bug-induced mania must’ve done the trick. So there I was, in my absolute prime (not!): shaking, sweating, and most probably looking like a crazy person as I blended a breakfast shake together. Not cute.
Of course, the blood sugar issue was taken care of pronto. The bug issue, however? That was addressed. Eventually…
…meaning that my mother was my savior and eliminated the BUGger (sorry for the terrible pun*) later that evening. Thanks, mom.
*Not actually sorry for terrible puns because I love all puns!!!
Not too long ago, I was fondly reminiscing about my college days. So many stories, so many of them related to diabetes in some manner. But this one that I’m about to share is one of the funniest, most cringe-worthy stories. Hopefully, you’ll be delighted by my awkward adventure:
It was the night of the “senior ball”. This was a dance held at the Mullins Center at the UMass Campus for graduating seniors. I was particularly excited to attend mine, because it presented me with an opportunity to see all of my college friends again. Technically speaking, I didn’t graduate with them – due to extra course credits and an overloaded schedule, I was able to graduate one semester earlier than the rest of my friends. This means I last hung out with the group in December; fast-forward to May, and it had been nearly five months since I last saw my crew.
So this meant we had to celebrate! As I got ready at my friend’s apartment, we caught up on each others’ lives and drank some wine. By the time we were ready for the grand ole ball, we were feeling more than ready to dance the night away.
And we certainly did. We spent several hours that evening taking pictures, laughing with friends, snacking on appetizers and sipping more wine. And in the middle of it all, my Dexcom CGM somehow managed to vanish from my purse’s strap. I didn’t realize this until I needed to check my CGM to stay updated on my blood sugar, so I had no idea how much time had passed between then and when I lost the CGM.
What I do know for sure, though, is that I instantly panicked when I discovered it was gone. I rely heavily on my CGM when I’m at an event like this. It’s really useful for me to stay alert of how I’m trending, especially when I’m drinking alcohol. Typically, I know what to expect in terms of my blood sugar when I’m imbibing in different kinds of alcohol, but having my CGM handy makes me feel more secure.
So that’s why I freaked out. How the hell was I supposed to find my CGM in the Mullins Center? For context: It’s an arena that can hold almost 10,000 people. There weren’t quite that many attending the ball, but there were enough bodies in there to guarantee that searching for my CGM wouldn’t be easy.
I admit it, I was a little tipsy, so that definitely didn’t help in the situation.
After telling my friends what happened, and a brief group effort to search for my CGM, I knew I needed more manpower. So I found a police officer and told him what was going on. Once he found out I was a diabetic, he sat me down in a chair – he must’ve been afraid I’d pass out or something – and he assured me that we’d locate it by the end of the night. He struck up conversation with me while we waited for news from the other officers who were on the case. I had nothing else to do, so I gamely chatted with him.
I have no idea how much time passed. It could’ve been 20 minutes or 2 hours, but in a matter of time, my CGM was found. I jumped for joy when it was returned to me, cradling it in my arms. Meanwhile, the police officer seemed kind of bummed. He took something out of his pocket – a card – circling a number on it before handing it to me. “That’s my number,” he said, “just in case you need me again.”
I took it, nonplussed, and thanked him for his assistance. He nodded, and watched as I walked away to rejoin my friends. We all walked home and passed out soon after, exhausted from the fun but chaotic night.
The next morning, I woke up and rummaged through my purse to get my meter and CGM so I could do my first BG check of the day. As I looked through, I found a card in my bag – the cop’s card. I chuckled out loud, explained what happened to my friends, who laughed riotously as I relayed my interaction with him the night before.
“Molly, face it – you got hit on by a cop while you nearly had a medical crisis.”