Ebbs and Flows

When I was first diagnosed with diabetes, I thought that I would arrive at the day where I everything would be under control. I specifically remember explaining to a friend that while I was pricking my finger quite a bit, eventually the day would come where I wouldn’t have to do it so often.

Over the years, I’ve come to realise that diabetes ebbs and it flows. There are periods where things are just moving along in a nice rhythm, and then there are times where things just…aren’t. There are times where things are working for me, and times where they just…don’t.

I think I’ve definitely felt in a bit of a rut in recent weeks. Several weeks. I haven’t felt that nice rhythm as I’ve been going about the daily grind, day in and day out. I’ve felt more effort, with less return. My foot has definitely eased from the pedal for quite some time, and I don’t feel particularly compelled to hit accelerate once again.

I’ve been itching for change over the past few weeks. Perhaps not the best time for it, on the verge of Christmas, but diabetes wants what it wants. The only real thing that’s been stopping me has been the 02-2020 expiration date on the box of insulin stashed in my fridge.

Over the weekend, I finally bit the bullet and went down to my local Chemist, with a script for some long acting insulin in hand. A few hours later, I’d happily stashed my pump away in a drawer and I finally felt some freedom. Like the weight of my past several weeks in diabetes had been lifted from my shoulders.

Diabetes ebbs and it flows. I’ve been attached to my pump continuously for the past two and a half years. The longest period of time since I began pumping insulin four and a half years ago. I had finally reached a point earlier this year where I knew that I was firmly an insulin pumper. That this is what works for me. I was finally at the point of saying that I couldn’t imagine being without my pump.

However, diabetes ebbs and it flows. Today, I find myself looking forward to a break for searching for suitable infusion sites on my tummy. A break from fumbling for my pump which has flown out of the pockets of my pyjama pants in bed. And a break from having to accommodate said pump alongside my keys and wallet and phone while out and about on Summer days.

Most of all, I look forward to not being so ‘reminded’ of my diabetes for a while with a noticeably emptier left hand pocket.

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