I think I have an insulin pump muse and she is one saucy little bitch who is now on my shit list. Yes, I suppose my previous entry taunted her. She just couldn't pass that up. But I tell you what, before this day is over, she and I may come to blows. At 4:30 this morning, after two and a half hours sleep, I woke up to what sounded like someone killing bunnies under my sheets. No bunnies to be found but only my pump alarming at full force. Hmm, pump looks dead. No timestamp, no reaction to buttons. Ok, step one is to replace the batteries. I stumble to the medical drawer and get some replacement batteries. Put in new batteries and no dice. After about 10 minutes the alarming started again. Bah.
Ok, step two: call the 24-hour help line. A very lucid helpful woman walked me through cleaning all the contacts (can you find Q-tips and rubbing alcohol at 4:30 in the morning?). Still no dice. She then explained that there's a capacitor inside that can get whacked out and it needs to completely lose its charge. This usually happens from a static charge. The bedsheets could have done it. Anything could have. She assured me that this is not out of the ordinary and everything should go back to normal. She told me to leave the batteries out for two hours and then try again. And in the meantime, go back to injections. Ugh, this is not music to my ears, but I responded with, "ok, thanks, I'll call back if I'm still stuck after a few hours."
This all starts to make sense. The whacking out that my pump did on Friday could have had to do with me changing my batteries in a moving car on the way to lunch. I could have easily shocked the pump somewhere in there. That doesn't explain the alarming at 4:30 but I'm willing to play along for a few hours and see how it goes.
But this story gets more complicated. I need to check my blood sugar. I had used my last blood test strip last night when I went to bed. I have 6 months worth of strips at the office, but they're for a meter that I don't use anymore (I need to return them and exchange them for the new type) and that meter has since disappeared. I also have to find some syringes. I haven't used a syringe in over two years. This operation might take some work. Also add on top of all this that my medical supplies are scattered all over Norfolk in my various places of residence. And thus it begins.
Ok, first step, get dressed. Done. Now find insulin, alcohol, and extra batteries. Done. And now what? My reasoning skills are not at peak performance but time is of the essence. I need to know what my blood sugar is. It could be 30 or 300 now and not knowing is making my teeth itch. Grr. Ok, collect stuff and hit the road.
I head to the new house to find my medical box. I think I moved it out yesterday. So it's 5am and I'm tearing through boxes in the floor trying to find some winning combination of strips and a meter. No luck. Bastards.
Ok, I'm going to need syringes. Next stop, my parents' house. I sneak in the house there, not wanting to wake anyone. Hmm. Where would I be if I were syringes? Aha! Over the piano, of course. The prescription date on the box says July of 1993. I love my packrat parents, I love them so.
So now I have the ability to get insulin in my system but no idea how much I need yet. Off to find some way to know my blood sugar. K-Mart is open and I manage to convince someone to open the super secret case and let me buy a new meter (which comes with 50 test strips). $27.99 and I'm back in business. I check my blood in the parking lot and it's 139. Kick ass. This is very manageable. I can do this.
So then back home to take stock of all this. I had to give myself a shot. A real shot. God, it was actually almost traumatic. Not because of any pain. They call those things micro-fine needles for a reason. But just all this angst and irritation at what a snafu this morning was becoming. Something so expensive and vital to my health should NEVER quit. That's just not an option. And I'm going to have to keep doing this every hour until the pump decides to start cooperating.
I just replaced the batteries and we appear to be good to go for now. Just have to reprogram the whole damn thing again. Ugh, I could talk about how this just further enforces my control freak nature. I could also talk about how every once in a while (say at 4:30 on a Sunday morning) this illness can be a real drag. But I'm too tired. Setting alarm and going back to bed. Hopefully no more screaming bunnies.