Parting Is Such Sweet...

My eyes opened. Groggy, barely able to take in the morning sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Kicked the covers off my body, lifting myself up and swinging my feet toward the side of the bed to stand up and welcome the new day. The dog appeared, wagging her tale and putting her front paws on the bedside to greet me with a wet nose and good morning kiss.

As I stood, my hands habitually went to my waistline to feel for my Minimed Paradigm 722 at its usual spot. Nothing. Eyes only slightly ajar, my hands surveyed the bed and felt underneath the pillow in search of the stray pump. All while I gained my footing, and prepared to take the first step away from the bed. Still nothing, and the thought of my pump tubing becoming taught and pulling loose my sight entered my mind.

Panic. Eyes opened fully, and I scanned my surroundings in search of my missing lifeline. That’s when it hit me: There’s no connection. For the first time in 9 years, I am not attached to any insulin pump. Unconnected. Unhinged. Free.

This was the start of my Pump Hiatus, which began about midnight Friday/Saturday. The first two mornings seemed surreal as I grappled with the reality that my Bionic Limb wasn’t attached, but set aside for that nostalgic routine of injections. Hello, MDI. Hello, again.

Parting is such sweet sorrow... but sometimes it’s necessary. Just as Juliet said it to dearest Romeo, so I say it to an insulin pumping lifestyle that I've enjoyed since the summer of 2001, my final year of college. We are sad to part ways temporarily, but it's sweet as I will be healed when the two of us finally reunite.

Don't get me wrong. I love what pumping has done for me through the years. The daily flexibility and ability to achieve tighter control is amazing and irreplaceable. Not to even mention the CGM choices we now have, which allow us to have a more constant tracking of where we're at in D-Management. It got me down to a 6.1 A1c at one point, and that's proof that it can be done.

But all of that means constantly being connected to a device. Suzi calls me the Bionic Man, and the pump is a Bionic Limb. It's always there, minus the short and periodic disconnections for showers and other personal moments. When sleeping, you must sometimes adjust to where it's placed on the body. It can be knocked off your body if you aren't careful. Sometimes, the sites just don't work or the infusion sets malfunction. Kinks. Blockage. Sets coming loose or getting knocked off. It can be frustrating, aside from just having to find a new spot of Real Estate for the site to go in the first place. There can be gushers, and it seems in my case they always spring up when I'm wearing a white dress shirt.

It’s become a routine struggle, an emotional trigger point that leads to my breaking down out of sheer frustration that my body just doesn't support my pump usage.

For those reasons, I've reflected more fondly on the days before "bolus" and "basal" become a part of the daily vocabulary. When you took a shot in the morning and went about your day. Sure, the control and flexibility wasn't there, but you didn't have to lug the pump and set with you all the time. There were no bionic limbs. In a way, I’ve missed that "freedom." Those were the days since March 1984 and that final year of college.

Nine years later, I've realized that my warn-torn body needs a break and this is the best time for it. My body needs time to heal from the pump infusion sites that, against the FDA guidelines, sometimes have stayed in place for more than the recommended 2-3 days. Most recently, a left leg site didn't work and after a few days evolved into a blusher that may have been slightly infected. As I'm simply out of Real Estate, and struggle so much with the frustrations of even changing a site, Dr. P and I decided that a break would be the best move.

Will try a month then see if another would work out.

Needles and pen needles are free, thanks to insurance. So this also helps on the financial front by being able to put off ordering new pump supplies for a bit. That’s an added bonus. Initial two Lantus Pens come from Endo’s office as samples, which is also bonus that avoids having to pay for them at the start. Three should get me through a month, so at least I can wait a couple weeks. Picked up my initial Lantus Pens on Friday afternoon, with direction to stop pumping at midnight and taking my first long-acting injection. I’m on a 28u bedtime basal, which is slightly less than the total 30 pump basal Humalog units. Got a prescription filled for the smaller 50-unit needles for the small bolus amounts I’d be taking for food or corrections, and tried to keep those to a minimum. BGs ran a little higher for the weekend, in getting used to the new style.

It was interesting having to hand-calculate all the carbs and corrections, rather than having the pump automatically do the math. Grrr. The first night of chinese food was interesting, but BGs came out quite nicely. Injections arne't as precise with shots as it is with pumping, I came to remember once again. But the freedoms…. Oh they’re great.

Showering without any connection. Being able to sleep on any side, in any position. Wrestling and playing with the dog without having to worry about tube tangling or sets being knocked off. I’m sure the workweek will bring similar joys, like not having a device attached to my belt or having to worry about tube tugs whenever the shirt is tucked or untucked. Of course, there's challenges: relearning the differences and how my body reacts to different foods with injections, not an hourly basal. Carrying needles with me and making sure the Humalog is full. Having to take more shots when more food is added. Of course, remembering I'm not connected or restrained by tubing.

Good times. So, the Journey begins...