I have faced the facts that if there was to be a Zombie Apocalypse I would be the first one sacrificed to the said creatures in order for the others to get to safety. Or if I was stranded on top of a mountain with a group of people and there was no food available I would be the one that gets murdered and eaten in order for the others to survive until rescue. Am I morbid? Maybe. Will either of these scenarios ever happen? Nope. Am I the most awesome person ever? Heck yes.
Other than my fear of ghost babies and clowns, I have a more realistic fear, and that is being somewhere and not having my insulin pump supplies with me. I need them to survive…well…I need my insulin and a syringe to inject it at the very least. My natural tendencies to over think a situation to death and my imagination led me to the sacrificial/murderous thoughts. I know I would be the most likely to die first in an extreme situation without insulin, so it stands to reason that I should at least save my fellow comrades as I knock on Death’s door.
Before my insulin pump I took a shot 2-3 times a day. Breakfast. Dinner. Bedtime. Because I was getting a dose at specific times of the day I had to eat at specific times too. This helped to regulate my blood sugars. In a normal human (I call non-diabetics “normal,” you buttfaces) your pancreas secretes insulin throughout the day and when you eat something it secretes a larger amount and keeps your blood sugars nice and normal. My pancreas is a broken down El Camino that produces not a single drop. I envision it to be a shriveled up dead thing floating around my insides. Anyway, when I was taking shots I was getting a whole days worth of insulin at only 2-3 time frames instead of at constant rate like the “normals.” It made managing the disease that much harder. Sometimes I wouldn’t give a shot because I felt like I was rebelling against the disease. Ha! Take that! It was stupid. One of the worst things I could have possibly done.
When I was in college my diabetes doctor told me about this magical creation called the insulin pump. It was amazing. It was this 1990’s pager looking thing that had a tube that connects to it and my body. How it works is that it gives me a “background” rate throughout the day and when I eat I give myself and extra dose or “bolus” depending on what I eat. Basically, it mimics a real pancreas only I’m controlling it. Like a puppet master. Sometimes I just laugh and laugh in an evil manner about it. I’m kidding. I’m not that weird…or am I? Anyway, there is more to it than that and I have to calculate and watch everything I do and adjust rates accordingly, but it sure beats sticking myself with needles daily. With the pump I only need to switch out the tubing and where it is on my body every 3-4 days. I love it. Love love love love love love. What I’m trying to say is that I love it.
(This isn’t me, but it gives you an idea of the hook-up.)
The progress being made to make my life easier with such contraptions is amazing and the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF) is at the top of the list and making things like this happen. They are amazing and dedicated to finding a cure. I love them. I love them like I love movies and books and animals and shoestrings and my pump. They are the main reason I am writing this particular post. Anyone who knows me knows that the JDRF and animal rescue shelters are my main charities of choice. Everyone has their own thing. Those are mine. If you are someone who is unsure of what charities you enjoy perhaps you would like to donate to JDRF. My cousin, Amy, is also a Type 1 diabetic and she is joining up with JDRF to do a walk and is taking donations for the cause. Her walk is on May 5, so donate soon! A donation for Amy is a donation for your dearest dearest dearest non-normal human friend, Emily. Here is a link to it.
And if you don’t do this maybe you should adopt a pet….just saying.