Rolling with the Punches (and the High Blood Sugar)

I just wanted a nice dinner out on New Year’s Eve…but diabetes – or rather, my diabetes devices – had another plan in mind.

You see, that’s when my brand-new pod decided to stop working properly, leaving me no choice but to deliver insulin via syringe in the middle of a fancy restaurant.

Hence, my unamused expression in the following photo.

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Shooting up like the diabadass I am.

On the one hand, it was irritating to deal with, especially since my malfunctioning pod delivered high blood sugar to me in lieu of insulin. But on the other hand, what else could I do except roll with the punches? After all, it was New Year’s Eve – the final night of 2018. I was NOT about to allow diabetes to ruin it for me.

So I left my frustration and dismay at my high blood sugars at home, where I first realized there might be something wrong with my pod, and did my best to maintain an upbeat attitude throughout dinner. Yes, I was checking my CGM often, but I also remained engaged in conversation with my dinner companions (thanks for that meal, Mom and Dad). I took comfort in the knowledge that I was prepared with a vial of insulin and syringes should my blood sugar stay high in spite of my aggressive boluses. And when it did indeed climb into the 300s, I calmly set down my fork and knife, fished a syringe and my insulin from my backpack, drew up eight units, and rolled up my sleeve to inject right then and there. It felt kind of weird to “shoot up” in the middle of the dining establishment, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I could’ve gone to the restroom, but I knew that the lighting would be bad – at least I could have assistance from my parents by injecting at the table (again, thanks Mom and Dad, the cell phone lights came in clutch in this situation).

As I pushed down on the syringe’s plunger, I vaguely wondered whether any restaurant patrons were watching and wondering what the actual eff I was doing. I was self-conscious about it for a hot second, but I got over it because I knew I was doing what needed to be done.

I was rolling with the punches, high blood sugar and all, because it was the best thing to do for my body and my mind. Plus, I really got to stick it to my diabetes by refusing to let it spoil my night, and to me, that was much sweeter than the cheesecake my mom and I split for dessert.

Memory Monday: Cloudy and Clear

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…

…it was a thing to mix insulin?

Yup, I’m referring to the days of cloudy and clear insulins – also known as NPH and Regular, respectively (insert corny Neil Patrick Harris joke here). Oh, you don’t know what I’m talking about? This is going back at least 15 years, probably more like 20, to when short-acting and long-acting insulins needed to be mixed in order to avoid having to take two separate shots. I only vaguely remember mixing my insulins, but here’s what sticks out in my memory about the process:

  • It was always “clear before cloudy” – the Regular insulin had to be drawn up in the syringe first to avoid getting any of the cloudy insulin into the clear vial.
  • The cloudy insulin needed to be rolled between the hands before inserting a syringe into it…I can’t remember why. Maybe to help bring it to room temperature, or make sure it was adequately mixed?
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I definitely do not miss the days of filling these bad boys with two different kinds of insulin.
  • Drawing the insulins into a single syringe was nerve-wracking as hell. Precision was everything.
  • Air bubbles! They ruined everything!

I certainly don’t miss the tedious process of having to draw up insulin in such a careful, precise manner. If only I’d known how much easier an insulin pump would make my life sooner…

…but I guess that just makes me appreciate my pump more.