Category Archives: insulin pump

It’s Not A Pager

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“Is that a pager?”

I had pulled my pump out of my pocket to what I thought was discreetly bolus for my dinner. I was at a large dinner seated with friends, strangers, and acquaintances. That question has always been a great opener to a usually educational conversation about type 1 diabetes, a conversation that I never minded having and actually often looked forward to. But this time I didn’t even look up from my pump as I worked out the carbs and calculations in my head.

“No, it’s an insulin pump,” I replied, not even bothering to lift my head.

That’s all I said. Not, “No it’s actually an insulin pump, I have type 1 diabetes and I give insulin this way instead of shots.” Not, “Hah no, its an insulin pump, I have type 1 diabetes and I have to give insulin when I eat.” No explanation, no education, no discussion.

“Oh sorry, it kind of looks like one.”

“Don’t worry, she gets asked that a lot.” My friend seated next to me took the opportunity to chime in.

I should have said that to him, I should have made sure that he didn’t feel awkward, that he knew that I didn’t feel awkward by his question, but I didn’t. I finished entering my bolus and put my pump back in my pocket. And that was the end of it.

It was not my typical response when someone inquired about my diabetes. I wasn’t trying to be rude, I wasn’t offended, or embarrassed. I’ve thought about my response, or lack there of, for the past few days. Why was this time different? Why this time did I find myself to be slightly…well, annoyed?

It’s happened many times where I’ve known a person for years before they find out that I have diabetes. That’s because most of the time, you can’t necessarily tell. I keep my cords tucked away, my pump in my pocket, my infusion sets covered by my clothing. But other times, I don’t care who sees. I test my blood sugar at my desk or on my lap at the table. I wear my pump clipped to my side, my tubing dangling below the edge of my shirt. And when questions are asked, I explain. I teach, I answer questions, I demonstrate and I educate. I usually like doing it, I like talking and sharing my experiences and life with diabetes.

But not that night. I didn’t want to talk about my diabetes. I didn’t want to explain what it was and what I was doing. I didn’t want the next 20 minutes to be about me or about diabetes or about anything related to it. I didn’t want my diabetes to be at that dinner, at that table.

For the past month, I haven’t worn my CGM. And while I still tested my blood sugar, it was less frequent. It was a month of not constantly being summoned by buzzing and beeps. It was a month of a sort of denial of my blood sugars. Without my CGM to tell me otherwise, I had a tendency to trick myself into believing that they were in range when mostly likely they weren’t. It was a month of drastically less lows, but probably more highs. But it was a quiet month, a necessary month. A month where everything wasn’t about my diabetes. Where my focus and energy, for better or worse, was spent elsewhere.

So when I was asked if my pump was a pager that night, I didn’t want a diabetic discussion and my response reflected that.

Today, after a month, I took my CGM back out of the drawer and started wearing it again. Today I stopped pretending like diabetes isn’t a part of my life and can be ignored, even for a month. I know I don’t always have to talk about my diabetes, that I can decide when I want to keep it to myself and when I want to share it. But whether it’s today, or tomorrow, or the day after, not talking about my diabetes does not mean that it isn’t there and that it will go away.

“It’s not a pager, but I get asked that a lot. I have type 1 diabetes and this is an insulin pump, I can tell you more about it if you’re interested…”

A Melody of Hope

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I know my beeps. I know my beeps similar to the way a parent can recognize the cry of their baby. I know the sounds that my insulin pump and meters make. I don’t get them confused with other alarms, dings, and noises of everyday life. And since I’m usually not surrounded by other pump wearing diabetics, I know that the beeps are for me. That is until I go to a diabetes event. What a strange phenomenon it is to be surrounded by dozens of other diabetics. My beeps become lost in a sea of similar noises, mixing with the sounds of countless other pumps and meters. My unique identifier becomes a unifying force, a sound signifying a shared experience.

My contribution to this year’s mosaic mural

The past two weekends I’ve had the pleasure of attending 2 different JDRF walks, one in Chicago and one in Ann Arbor/Dexter. In Chicago, I was volunteering with an amazing organization called Project S.N.A.P, collecting artworks drawn at the walk by T1Ds, their families, and their friends to become part of a giant mosaic mural. You can read more about my experiences with Project S.N.A.P in this post, or on their website. The second walk I attended as a representative of the Young Leaders Committee of my local JDRF chapter. It was the second JDRF walk that I’ve ever attended as a walker.

I attended my local diabetes walk with my mom. The walk was in a beautiful Metropark, the path winding through trees with changing colored leaves. Although it was raining, it was still a beautiful and enjoyable walk. At one point my mom turned to me and asked if I was sad/upset that we didn’t really do these walks when I was growing up. I wasn’t mad. Mostly because I knew that my family always supported me. The walk that day was a perfect example. Knowing that I wanted to go to the event, my mom skipped her normal Sunday plans to wake up early and drive 45 minutes to walk in the rain with me.

But even though I am not upset, I know that I did miss out on some amazing experiences. When I looked around at the walks, I saw teams sometimes with 10-30 people all there for one special type 1 diabetic. They were there showing their support by physically coming together, by putting on their team t-shirt with their creative names and bright colors, and spending the morning dedicated to that one child with diabetes. I can only imagine how special that child must feel. Yes, they were being singled out because of their diabetes, but in a positive way. For at least one day each year, that child isn’t alone in their experiences. They aren’t the only child with diabetes. They are able to come together and see other children just like them, to meet and talk with them.

My parents had their own reasons for not pushing to go each year, but I know that if I had expressed an interest to attend these walks when I was younger, that we would have gone. Perhaps I didn’t know at the time what I was missing out on. I was content with the support from my friends and family and with the few other diabetics that I knew.  But these past two weekends while I stood in a sea of other diabetics, I heard those beeps, my beeps. And while it was confusing and odd to hear them, each beep seemed to say “You. are. not. alone. beep. We. are. in. this. together. beep.”

It was the melody of hope, of support, and of all the efforts to find a cure.

Tethered by a Tube

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Where’s your cell phone right now? Is it in your pocket? On the table/desk/night stand next to you? Is it in your purse/backpack/briefcase? Chances are if you are like me and my friends, your cell phone is within 5 feet of you most of the time. When someone says they don’t have their cell phone with them, it’s usually met with disbelief. Today, it sometimes feels like we are tethered to our phones, connected with an invisible string.

But what if you really were connected to your phone? You couldn’t put it down and just walk away. What if you didn’t have the option to leave it at home or in your bag and be without it for the day or even a few hours? After awhile, you probably would start to get annoyed. Carrying around an extra device constantly is an inconvenience. Where do you put it? What if you don’t have pockets? You can’t put it in a bag or purse since it’s connected to you. As slim as phones are today, it’s still extra bulk and weight.

Now, what if not carrying around your phone all the time meant that your health would suffer. You would literally start to feel sick. At first you would get really thirsty and have to pee all the time. Then you would start to get nauseous and maybe even dizzy or start to get a headache. Then you just feel like crap. That would suck, wouldn’t it?

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the world of insulin pumps!

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it has meant to me to be attached to a device constantly. To me having a pump is better than the alternative of daily injections, so mostly I just learned to deal. But while it has become part of my life, I still think about it from time to time. I also opted for a pump with tubing instead of the omnipod, so while I may complain about tubing from time to time, I know there are alternatives. However, I personally am not a fan of a tubeless pump, but I won’t get into that today.

What does wearing a pump mean to me?

  • Inconvenience. My pump is always with me (except for in the shower, while swimming, and often while I’m exercising), which means that I need to think about where it’s going to go. Often it can just go in a pocket, but I don’t always have pockets. Am I going to clip it to the outside of my clothes, wear it in a strap around my leg, or clip it under my clothes?
  • Planning. The pump only holds enough insulin to last 3 days, so I need to be thinking about where I’m going to be when it runs out. If I’m not going to be home, I need to have supplies with me so that I can refill and change my set. This means always thinking ahead and being prepared.
  • Being uncomfortable. I’m going to be honest, wearing a pump strapped around your leg under a skirt or dress is a little awkward and uncomfortable. Sleeping and rolling over to feel the pump dig into your side is uncomfortable. Waking up to find yourself wrapped in your cord is not pleasant. Figuring out what to do with the pump when you are getting intimate is slightly awkward as well. 
  • Questions. Wearing a pump, especially when it’s visible means questioning looks as well as curious people asking questions. “Oh, you have diabetes?” “Is that a pager?” “What is that?” “Are you checking your blood sugar?” “Is that an mp3 player?” “Does that have games on it?” (uh I wish!)
  • Freedom. It’s interesting how being tethered to an external device nearly 24/7 means more freedom, but it does. To me it means a less strict schedule of eating and even more freedom in what foods I can eat. 

I think that having the option to disconnect my pump when necessary makes wearing it a little more bearable. However, there are consequences. Being disconnected means I’m not getting any insulin which affects my blood sugar. It also means it’s possible to forget to connect it back to me. Lucky, I can count on one hand the number of times in the past 12 years that I’ve had a pump in which I’ve left and realized that I had forgotten it behind.

Despite all the inconveniences, I honestly am so very thankful for my pump! It has truly made my life so much easier and I can’t imagine life without it.

Wheels yield to heels

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Hey everyone. Today we are going for a bike ride. Now we aren’t just going around the block a few times, we are going for a 20 mile bike ride. Don’t worry, there aren’t many hills so it will be quite enjoyable. Are you ready?

So what will we need? We probably should get everything together. Let’s start with our attire.

I’m thinking bike shirt with some workout pants. But what about the pump? Where should it go?

I can:

A. Wear a pair of shorts/pants with pockets and hope it doesn’t fall out
B. Find some pants with a zippered pocket
C. Clip it to my pants
D. Leave the pump at home. I’ll be exercising, it will be fine.

Well, since I don’t really have many shorts with pockets, I’m going to go with option C. That way I won’t have to worry about it falling out of a pocket either. And since the ride may take a couple hours, I’m not comfortable being disconnected from my pump for that long.

They match!

Great, now that we know what we are wearing, what will we take with us? Here’s what I’m thinking:

  • Some kind of liquid. Should I bring water or gatorade? I don’t really like to drink gatorade, but it will keep me from going low. 
  • A granola bar. In case I need something more substantial to eat.
  • Something to treat a low. Probably some fruit snacks. But how many packets? Maybe 4. If I go really low, I might need 2 packets, but I need to have enough in case I go low twice. Is 4 even enough? Maybe 5.
  • My phone. Obviously.
  • License, insurance card, money/credit card. You know in case something happens or I feel like buying something along the way.
  • My glucose meter. Or my CGM? Or both? My CGM is usually pretty good, but it isn’t always accurate so maybe I should have my meter too.
  • My helmet. Safety first.
  • Bike gloves. Don’t want any blisters. 
  • Sunglasses. I have to be able to see.
  • Sunscreen. That I don’t have to take with me at least, but I will put that on before I leave.
Hmm yea that should cover it. Kind of a lot of stuff. Luckily it all fits in the pouch on the bike. So we’re off!
Okay we’re 8 miles in and you start to feel low. What do you do?
A. Keep riding for now, we can stop when it starts to feel worse.
B. Pull over! Treat that low! 
C. Low shmo. No pain, no gain baby!
D. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have diabetes.
I’m going to go with B! I did get low on this bike ride and so I pulled over to the side of the path, got out a pack of fruit snacks, and sat and waited until I felt better. The last thing I want to do is fall off of my bike because I’m shaky and disoriented from a low. As much as I hate disrupting a workout (or bike ride), I know that I’d also be putting other walkers, runners, and bikers at risk if I’m riding with a low blood sugar. 
After feeling better, it’s back to the bike ride. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone for any kind of bike ride, let alone one for this long. 12 miles later we make it back, phew! We did it! What a ride! It really was a great summer activity.

Sure I may have had a few extra items stuffed into my bike pouch, but I didn’t let my diabetes slow me down! Can’t wait until our next ride!

And because it’s Wisdom Wednesday…
Found on Pinterest

Double…pumping?

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Clearly if one pump is good, two pumps must be better, right?

Not quite.

I noticed that the plastic at the top of my pump where the reservoir fits in had started to chip away. Pieces of plastic were literally missing from my pump. Actually, I noticed that happening awhile ago, but my pump was working fine so I kept using it. It wasn’t until the rubber stopper became exposed and almost fell out that I began to think that I should probably consider getting a replacement pump.

With the rubber stopper out, it basically means that my pump is not waterproof. I’ll be honest though, I have no idea just how waterproof my pump is. I remember my old ones not being waterproof at all, then one was dunk/splash proof, but I’m pretty skeptical that the medtronic pumps are in fact waterproof. Actually, I just pulled out the user manual and it says to “avoid immersing your pump in water”, so that answers my question.
I remember when I went to diabetes canoe camp, I bought a special water proof holder for my pump. Since we would be spending the majority of the day in a boat on the water, I couldn’t just disconnect for the duration of the activity. There had to be a way to wear my pump, but protect it from getting wet. So 10 years ago I found this contraption, called the sport guard. The pump fits into a plastic case with an airtight rubber top and then clipped around me. Not too fancy, but it got the job done. 
I’ve been lucky that my pump has avoided water the past 13 years. It’s never fallen out of my pocket and into a toilet, I’ve never fell or been pushed into water while I was wearing it, and torrential rainstorms haven’t really been an issue.
However, one of the most important rules with diabetes is to always be prepared. Walking around with a pump that was not up to standard seemed to be asking for trouble. So I called medtronic and they had a replacement pump shipped out the next day. 
I don’t plan on submerging my pump in water any time soon, but at least now I’m prepared. 

#FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

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Background: If you aren’t familiar with the meme #FirstWorldProblems, here’s an explanation I found that pretty much sums it up:

“First World Problems are frustrations and complaints that are only experienced by privileged individuals in wealthy countries. It is typically used as a tongue-in-cheek comedic device to make light of trivial inconveniences.”

You can check out some examples on twitter.

Anyway, it got me thinking about some privileged inconveniences related to Type 1 Diabetes. With so many very real obstacles and challenges to deal with everyday, it is nice every once in awhile to try to see the more trivial problems and the comedic side of dealing with diabetes as well. Although I must admit, it was pretty hard to think of these.

 If you have any that you’d like to add, I’d love to hear them!


The store only has the generic glucose tablets left #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My new pink CGM clashes with my colored case #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

This packet of fruit snacks for my low doesn’t have any of my favorite flavors in it #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

I bolused for those chips but now I don’t feel like eating them #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My friend thinks all these people are calling me when my purse vibrates, but really I have no messages and its just my CGM going off #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My infusion set tape leaves funky tan lines when I’m tanning #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My CGM is going off in the other room, but I don’t want to get out of bed to read it #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My glucose meter isn’t backlit so I can’t read it in the dark #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

They were out of pink colored infusion sets, so I had to order blue #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

The free drinks at this event are all regular and not diet #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

I have all these free glucose meters but they all use a different brand of test strips #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

When people ask if my insulin pump is a pager, I feel like I seem outdated and behind the times #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My lulu lemon yoga pants don’t have pockets for my pump #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My outlet is full and I can’t charge my glucose meter, CGM, iPhone, and laptop all at the same time #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My CGM doesn’t have a tone that I like #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

The sugar-free option tastes bad #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

I always end up with more syringes than infusion sets at the end of the month and have to change my order the next time #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

There are 1000 diabetes related apps for droids but only 600 for iOS #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

The coffee shop is out of Splenda #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

All my diabetes devices wont fit in the clutch that matches my outfit #FirstWorldDiabetesProblems

My insulin pump is only dunk proof and not water proof
#FirstWorldDiabetesProblems




The Not So Silent Diabetes

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Sometimes I like to play this game where I put myself in other people’s shoes and try to guess what they must be thinking.

Let me give you some examples.

I recently started an internship where I’m working in a cubicle. I’ve met the people on the other side of my cube walls, but they don’t really know more than my name since they are in a different department from me. They don’t know about my diabetes. Anyways, the office that I work in is pretty quiet all day. I can hear the mouse clicks from 2 or 3 cubes down. Sometimes I like to think about what the guy on the other side of my cube wall must be thinking when he hears all this:

Bzzzzz Bzzzz Bzzzzz. Drawer opening and closing. Zipp. Zipp. Click. Beeeeeep. Zipp. Zipp. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Crinkle crinkle. Drawer again.

First my CGM goes off, buzzing in my drawer. Sometimes I open and get it out, and then end up testing my blood sugar with my meter. The meter beeps when the reading appears and then my pump beeps when the number is sent to it. Then I either give insulin through my pump (more beeps), or I treat my low with some fruit snacks (thus the crinkling).

So what is the guy on the other side of the wall (or anyone else) thinking when he hears all these noises and beeps??

He probably thinks that I’m sitting on my phone getting all kinds of messages.

Maybe he thinks I’m playing some kind of game that beeps a lot.

Maybe it’s my pager going off because I’m needed down in surgery. Or the President is paging. It’s my pilot paging to tell me that my personal helicopter is ready and waiting to take off.

That I have a mini robot in my desk drawer. He beeps when he feels neglected. He feels that way a lot apparently.

Again, I thought about this when I was in the bathroom changing my infusion set. I was going to run out of insulin before the end of the day so I took all my supplies with me to change it in the bathroom. There are only two stalls in the bathroom so I took the handicap stall that had a sink and counter in it. I heard the door open and close and someone enter the stall next to me. I tend to think that bathrooms can be a little awkward as it is, so I try to get in and out as quickly as I can. Except this time I knew changing my set would take a little longer.

Ripppp. Motor sounds. Beep Beep Beep. Clink Clink. Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep. Click. Beep Beep Beep Beep.

Opening the supplies isn’t very quiet as I rip open the air-tight packaging. Next I rewind the pump, and you can hear the motor working. I fill the syringe with insulin, clinking the glass to get the bubbles out. Then I put the new cartridge of insulin in and prime it with a series of beeps. When it’s all set, it’s inserted with a loud click followed by some more beeps to further prime the insulin. It’s not a quiet process, and not the sounds one usually hears in a bathroom. So what is this woman thinking is going on?

Again, maybe she thinks I escaped to the bathroom to use my phone.

Maybe I’m playing some kind of game.

She might think it’s another kind of medical device or maybe she knows it’s an insulin pump.

That I’m building a time machine in the bathroom.

That I’ve created an extraterrestrial connection in the office bathroom and we are communicating through a series of beeps.

Honestly, I have no idea. The woman left the bathroom before I was finished and the guy on the other side of my cube wall has yet to inquire about all the noise. I never really realized how loud diabetes can be until sitting in a silent office all day.

I may not know what these people think is actually going on, but I’ve enjoyed trying to figure it out.

A mini robot in my desk drawer would be pretty awesome though.

Easily Inaccessible

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It was the end of Saturday night, a night of eating, laughing and dancing. My friends and I had gotten dressed up to attend an event taking place at a casino downtown that consisted of mingling around hors d’oeuvres and a truly impressive dessert table, entertainment provided by writer and comedian B.J. Novak, and a dance floor with a great DJ. It was now the end of the night, and my friends and I were seated on a couch. Why? Well we were tired and our feet hurt! We had retreated to a comfortable spot where we could rest our aching feet, some friends with heels in hand. I’m careful to buy only comfortable shoes, but even in my modest heels, I was feeling the pain. Just another way that women suffer for beauty.

But my shoes were not my only inconvenience for the night. My attire for the evening was a skirt and top. Without pockets, there was limited places where I can discreetly secure my insulin pump.  I often strap it around my thigh, but that night I secured it under my skirt near my hip. Although unnoticeable, it was also inaccessible in public. I sacrificed quick access to my pump for appearance, a trade-off that I was willing to make. However as the night progressed, I began to doubt my decision.

During the evening, the wait staff walked around holding plates of various delicious hors d’oeuvres while the massive dessert table enticed me with arrangements of all sorts of treats. The indecisive person that I am, I would decline an appetizer only to cave in the next round or decide to finally sample the chocolate and peanut butter mousse that had been beckoning me from the table. What this meant was constant trips to the bathroom to give more insulin as I sampled more food. I was trying to limit my indulging and therefore didn’t want to give too much insulin, but ended up having to keep going back to give insulin for the grazing that occurred over the course of the night. And just when I thought I was done, more food was revealed. Stations of make your own tacos, coneys, and french toast sticks.

There was a moment when I was deciding if I wanted a taco that I was standing next to my friend who also has type 1 diabetes and an insulin pump, his pump in his pocket. For that brief moment, I thought about how sometimes having type 1 diabetes must be easier for a man. Well not easier, but more convenient at times. But then I reminded myself that it was my choice to wear a skirt that night when I could have also worn pants with pockets.

So that night I dealt with my two inconveniences, my aching feet and my inaccessible insulin pump. But you know what? I’m glad I did. I didn’t let my diabetes stop me from wearing what I wanted and that’s what is important. Yes, I may have taken a few extra trips to the bathroom, but I still had a great night.

On a side note, I’m beginning to appreciate the feature of being able to bolus from your meter for the Animas pumps. I’m going to have a tough decision to make when it comes time for a new pump…