My New PDM

After four years filled with various highs and lows, I had to say farewell to the PDM that was virtually glued to my side, working with me to manage my diabetes.

Our parting was inevitable. Around the Fourth of July, I noticed that the battery symbol on my PDM was low, meaning that the triple A batteries within needed to be replaced. I put fresh ones in, but upon the system restarting, the PDM asked me to input information such as the date and time. And then…the pod I’d been wearing for less than 24 hours beeped loudly, signaling to me that it had failed. I figured it must be due to the battery replacement, but this definitely wasn’t normal. So I did some investigating.

I consulted with my mom and she told me that this was a sign that the internal battery within the PDM, the one that cannot be replaced, was starting to run out of life. She advised me to call Insulet to get a replacement PDM. That’s how I discovered that the warranty on my PDM actually expired in January of this year, and that I’d have to pay a nice chunk of change (about $500) to get a new one, under warranty.

It was a painful process, as I’ve detailed in recent posts, but I finally did get my new PDM. Fortunately, it only cost me $100 (I guess I should be glad I met my $900 deductible so quickly).

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A very special delivery.

I waited to power up the new system until I was due to change a pod – didn’t want to waste a pod if I didn’t have to – and I’m really glad I set aside a half hour or so in order to input all of my settings into the new PDM. It was a bit stressful, really, and just as I was cursing the PDM for not automatically knowing all of this stuff about me, it was set up and ready for action.

It was a strange feeling, disconnecting myself from that PDM I’d relied on for four years. It sounds dramatic, I know, but that PDM and I have been through a lot. As I powered down the system, I had a little moment and felt gratitude toward the PDM (and I suppose all of its little quirks). I put it inside the box that the new one arrived in, and the old PDM now sits in my diabetes supplies cabinet, neatly tucked away so in the event that I need to consult it for old information or data, I can.

And now I can say I’ve got a shiny, pristine PDM that’s under warranty, which I must admit is a relief.

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Why is it so Difficult to Order Life-Saving Medical Supplies?

When it comes to obtaining my diabetes supplies – life-saving pieces of medical equipment – I’ve discovered that it’s not a simple process. It’s not exactly like purchasing something on Amazon with a single click. Rather, it’s a convoluted, head-scratching, infuriatingly long procedure that apparently involves multiple calls to a variety of companies.

As of this writing, it took approximately 4 calls to my endocrinologist’s office, 12-14 calls to Insulet (the maker of my OmniPod insulin pump), 6 or 7 calls to Dexcom (for my CGM supplies), 2 calls to my health insurance provider, and 1 call to Express Scripts just to get everything all straightened away. These calls took place over the course of 2.5 months, and as they grew in frequency, so did my overall frustration and confusion.

The biggest headache was definitely caused by the lack of effective communication between Insulet and my endocrinologist’s office. I needed to get a new PDM, and Insulet’s job was to contact my doctor’s office and get a letter of medical necessity in order to get a PDM shipped out to me. Simple, right?

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My call log looked like this for several days in July – so many phone calls to Insulet/OmniPod and to my doctor.

Far from it. About a week after I placed the order for the new PDM, I got an email from Insulet saying that my doctor’s office had failed to return their faxes. I was advised to contact them to determine the delay. When I did, I spoke with a receptionist who, despite my clear explanation of the issue, misunderstood what I was asking for and left me a voicemail to say that she didn’t know what Insulet was talking about seeing as their information showed that I had received a shipment from them. (For whatever reason, she thought I needed more pods, which I did have delivered around the same time that all of this was going on.)

After several more back-and-forth phone calls, I cracked the case wide open: Insulet had the wrong contact information for my doctor. While my endocrinologist hasn’t changed in about a decade, her office location has, and Insulet still had the old one. I felt like an idiot for not realizing this sooner, but then again…why was I the one who was jumping through so many hoops and making so many contact attempts in order to figure out what the hold-up was? It was absolutely ridiculous, but I certainly felt relieved – and satisfied – to have personally solved the mystery.

I wish I could say I had a better experience with Dexcom, but that proved to be similarly headache-inducing. I thought that I was set to receive my supplies after I’d signed a payment plan for a 90-day supply of sensors and transmitters, but when they didn’t show up after a month of waiting, I knew something was wrong. I called Dexcom and discovered that the order, for reasons unknown, just didn’t process, so I had to sign a brand-new payment plan and had my case assigned to a different customer service rep. I was pretty pissed off by the lack of communication, but the one silver lining was that I’d already managed to pay my deductible in full (ha, no surprises there), so my Dexcom supply order would cost me less. Again, it was unbelievable that I never got an update from the company regarding my order’s status, but I did feel a sting of pride in myself for getting it all worked out on my own.

I don’t know why everything about this process is so agonizing. But what I do know for sure is that it seems that the only person I can count on to get my supplies ordered properly, in the end, is myself.

A Pod Failure Won’t Foil my Fun

I had just zipped up my coat when I heard a faint, high-pitched beeeeeeeeeeep emerging from somewhere in the vicinity.

My mom and I exchanged looks. “Uh, oh,” we said simultaneously.

“It isn’t me,” Mom said, patting her pod.

“It can’t be me, it sounds too far. Are you sure it’s not the refrigerator door that was left open?” I asked, as I unzipped and peeled off my coat.

She didn’t have to answer the question, though, because as I took my coat off, the beeping sound grew louder. I looked down at my abdomen and cursed. Yup, my pod had just failed.

I wasn’t totally surprised that it happened. The dry winter air was triggering excessive static electricity that weekend, and the sweater I chose to wear that day seemed to be charged with it. I couldn’t move my arms without hearing little sparks going off. If I was smart, I would’ve changed my top to one that was less filled with static. But I had somehow managed to convince myself that there was no way my pod could possibly fail due to my clothing choices.

I know better than that.

The real kicker in this situation is that we were obviously headed out somewhere – we were hoping to go to our favorite bar for a quick drink. But with the pod’s failure occurring at basically the most inopportune time, we were left with a three choices:

  1. Stay home. Take out the insulin, wait a half hour, and resign ourselves to the fact that it just wasn’t a good night to go out.
  2. Go out, but take a syringe and a vial of insulin with us. That way, I could give myself a shot, if need be, while we were at the bar. We could head home after the one drink and I could change the pod once we were back.
  3. Go out and take a total risk by leaving all extra diabetes supplies at home, and just wait until after we had our drink to change the pod.
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A cocktail by the candlelight.

I like living on the edge sometimes, but option #3 is just way too dangerous. So we went with option #2. If you’re wondering why we didn’t just opt to wait a half hour (insulin needs 30 minutes to come to room temperature before it can be put into a new pod), it’s merely because we didn’t want to stay out late. And yes, a half hour can make that much of a difference to me and my mom!

So we left the house with an emergency insulin vial and syringe in tow. And it’s amazing how much better it made me feel to know that I had both, just in case.

Fortunately, I didn’t need them. I monitored my blood sugar carefully during our hour-long excursion, drank plenty of water, and deliberately chose a lower-carb, whiskey-based cocktail that wouldn’t spike me. And I was able to enjoy every last sip of it before returning home and changing my pod soon after walking through the front door.

I do have to say, though, that under different circumstances, I’d absolutely make different choices. If we weren’t less than three miles away from the house, and if we’d planned on staying out for more than a single drink, then you bet your bottom dollar that I would’ve changed my pod before going out. But in this situation, I made the decision that felt right for me, and felt comforted by the fact that I had backup supplies in case I needed them.

 

The Possible Pod Failure, or “Do You Hear What I Hear?”

Judging by the title of this blog post, you might assume that I’m rewriting yet another Christmas song to make it about diabetes. Well, I’m here to tell you that is false – no more Christmas carol transformations for me! (At least, not until Christmas 2019.)

Rather, this post is all about an odd, kind of silly thing that happened to my mother and I when we were out on a walk with Clarence, my parents’ dog.

We both heard a high-pitched beeping coming from…somewhere.

We exchanged glances and my mom asked me if I heard that sound. I nodded, and we both sighed as we fished through our pockets for our PDMs. That’s because we both just knew that one of us was experiencing a pod failure, and that the pressing of a couple buttons would reveal who was about to become extremely annoyed.

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My walking buddies, moments after the false alarm.

But both of our PDMs indicated that our pods were working just fine. Bemused, she told me that sometimes her PDM won’t recognize the pod failure right away, and it will be the pod itself that emits the beep-of-dread. So I started lifting up layers of my heavy winter clothing to see if my pod was making the sound, while she briefly stopped walking to listen closer to her pod.

After our careful scrutiny, we determined that…

…the beeping sound was actually someone using a weed whacker or some other piece of lawn-care equipment in the distance. Oops.

We continued our walk, chuckling a bit about it while Clarence pranced along in between us. It was a relief to know that we wouldn’t have to scramble home so one of us could take out insulin and a fresh pod to apply as soon as possible.

What’s the point of sharing this little vignette? To show that diabetes is such a significant part of our lives, always one of our first thoughts, even in the most mundane cases. It also illustrates how volatile diabetes can be – just like that, a random beep can change the course of the day and determine your next series of actions.

Just some food for thought, all triggered by a (literally) false alarm.

 

When in Doubt, Change the Pod

I’d only been wearing my new pod for about an hour when my arm brushed up in exactly the wrong way against a chair. Riiiiiiiip!

My pod tore right off – not from my arm, but it lifted up from the adhesive that it was glued to and dangled precariously from the still-intact adhesive stuck to my arm.

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Would you have kept the pod on, or changed it?

After cursing loudly, I asked my mother for her opinion. I wanted to know if she could see the cannula, because that was the component that made me most concerned. As long as the cannula was still stuck under my skin and delivering insulin, it shouldn’t matter that my pod was a little loose – right?

She tried to peek under and around my site, but it was virtually impossible to tell whether the cannula was where it should be. I thought about it for a few moments, and decided that it would be wise to just change out the pod. The notion of tossing one that had only been in use for an hour was unappealing to me, but I know myself pretty well, and I know for damn sure that I would’ve been super paranoid about the pod functioning properly for the following 72 hours. I also figured that it couldn’t hurt to try calling Insulet to see if they would replace the kaput pod. The odds were slim, but why not try?

So after I changed my pod, I dialed up Insulet and described the situation to the customer support representative. And…I got a replacement! I was pleasantly surprised by the rep’s empathy towards the situation and how easy it was to get my replacement. She reaffirmed that I did the right thing, noting that if she’d been in my shoes, she would have called it in, too. It goes to show that when in doubt, change the pod – and don’t hesitate to call for a replacement.

Any Pods to Spare?

Not too long ago, the following message appeared in the inbox of one of my social media platforms:

I’m so sorry to bother with something like this. I down to my last pod. And.. currently I’m having insurance issues.. I was wondering if there were any pods you could spare? I’m trying to search around. Or if you know anyone that does have extras? Or samples? I would hate hate to return to multiple daily injections.. I know u understand that. If not it’s ok. Sorry to bother. I don’t know where else to try apart from everything else I’ve tried

When I read it the first time, my heart immediately sank. The message was fraught with desperation, as evidenced by the typos and fragmented sentences. My gut reaction was to reach out to this person and let them know that everything would be fine, that there had to be an option out there that would help them.

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No pods to spare.

My next reaction, though, was pure skepticism. I’m not proud to admit that, but here are the facts that I was facing:

  1. I did not know this person. I tried to look at their profile to see if I could learn more about them, only to discover that it was private. I couldn’t see any of their information, other than a minute profile picture and numbers regarding their followers/activity.
  2. This person said they might be forced to go back to MDI. Personally speaking, if I ran out of pods and had to go back to shots, I wouldn’t like it – but if it was my only option, then of course I’d do it. I did it for something like 17 years before ever trying a pump. It sounded like this person wouldn’t want to do it, but…
  3. Most importantly, I do not have any pods to spare. I’m not sure why this individual thought that I did. It seemed like they’ve been asking as many people as possible on social media for pods, which makes me believe that they’re exploring the #omnipod or #podder hashtags. Regardless, I rely on regular shipments (every three months) from Insulet in order to maintain the bare minimum of pods that I need. And I can’t exactly give up “spare pods” that I don’t even have.

As horribly as I felt for this person, I had to take into consideration the facts that were in front of me, as well as the unfortunate truth that you can’t trust everything on the Internet. I told them that they should try to reach out to Insulet for assistance, and that I would be hoping for the best for them. I know that my kind words probably brought little comfort, but it was all that I had to offer to this total stranger.

The whole exchange haunts me. That’s why I want to know…

What would you have done if you were in my shoes?