Diabetes Musings

YpsoPump: The First Few Weeks (Part Two)

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I’ve been road testing the new YpsoPump that launched in Australia last month. If you missed the first half of my review, you catch up here. 

I must admit that I was a little intimidated at the prospect of using Ypsomed’s Orbit inserter to place infusion sets on my stomach. When I last used the Animas insets two years ago, it was a terrifying experience. The insertion process with the disposable plastic insets were so clunky, leaving me with little confidence in whether my insertion was a success, or whether the cannula had kinked on the way in. I can still recall one tumultuous night where I didn’t pick up on a kinked cannula until several hours later when I had high blood sugars and moderate ketones.

Thankfully, I’m finding that the YpsoPump’s reusable Orbit inserter device does a far more efficient job. The plastic cannula that sits underneath the stomach feels much stronger than the Animas sets, which would also help with kinking as well. The infusion sets can also be inserted manually.

The area does feel a little tender after the pressure from the insertion, compared to the gentler manual Animas sets that I’ve been using. Thankfully, this hasn’t been a sign of any site failures. I’ve been cautiously doing my insertions 12-24 hours prior to switching the site, so that I’ll be able to pick up any signs of a site failure. I’ve had one bad site placement so far, and I was able to pick it up straight away (it was just a bit of blood).

I really like that if you do happen to place your site badly, you can simply clip it back onto the Orbit inserter and try again, compared to an inset which is rendered useless once it comes away from the insertion device. It’s also nice to have a reusable inserter device that doesn’t create so much plastic waste like the disposable insets.

Ypsomed’s Orbit infusion sets are cleverly designed to rotate 360 degrees. The end of the pump line clips into place over the top of the infusion site, rather than having to be clipped rigidly into the side of a set.

The downside to this design is that it is challenging to check the skin where the infusion set is placed for any signs of bruising and bleeding. I’m slowly getting used to seeing through the purple coating, with a little help from my iPhone torch.

The sets seem to stick well enough at the centre, although they do tend to come loose around the edges after showers. One thing I am enjoying is less sticky residue left on my skin after removing an infusion site.

There is a choice of Orbitsoft plastic infusion sets (6mm and 9mm) and Orbitmicro steel infusion sets (5.5mm and 8.5mm), with each available in lengths of 45cm, 60cm, 80cm and 110cm. I did try one of the steel sets, but I think I am a bit weirded out by having a needle permanently underneath my skin. While it worked just fine for three straight days, I can’t say that it was as comfortable as the plastic.

Ypsomed’s glass reservoirs hold 1.6ml of insulin, which is slightly less than the 2ml capacity of Animas and may be a consideration for people on larger insulin doses. We were told that insulin in the glass reservoirs could be used in the YpsoPump for up to 7 days, or stored in the fridge for 30 days.

I was also in disbelief as the pump continued to run for up to five minutes while I was changing the battery. There’s no more having to rewind and re prime the insulin cartridge, or worry about losing information about insulin on board. Since I stopped syncing with the mylife app and switched off the pump’s Bluetooth last week, I’m expecting to get around 3 weeks from the AAA alkaline battery.

When I caught up with one of the Ypsomed reps in Perth last week, I expressed just how much I want to hear from other people who have used new diabetes tools and technologies. Even during the pilot phase when I had no idea that I would be getting a pump, Ashley’s insights were so valuable.

People with diabetes need to be part of the conversation, and I’m super grateful that Ypsomed included us in their launch – which is especially generous considering they are relatively new to Australia.

The YpsoPump is available in Australia now. Subsidised consumables are available through the NDSS, although I’ve been told to expect a 7 to 10 day delay as my Pharmacy’s supplier doesn’t carry them. Which is understandable, given it’s a new product and the demand probably isn’t there yet.

A large group of Diabetes Educators attended pump training in Sydney last month, and Ypsomed has also been travelling around to various clinics around the country to train further healthcare professionals. So if you would like to get started on this pump, I am confident that you will be able to find a trained healthcare professional near you.

According to CDE Amy Rush of the Telethon Type 1 Family Centre in Perth, you may be able to get a YpsoPump before your pump replacement is due and Ypsomed will liaise directly with your health fund. I don’t know the details personally, but you can watch Amy’s video here.

If you haven’t already noticed the enthusiasm in this post, I genuinely am still brimming with enthusiasm for this pump four weeks in. I think the size, weight and sleekness of this pump are the real selling points for me.

After the pump complacency and health insurance issues that I’ve dealt with recently, the YpsoPump could not have come along at a more perfect time to help me feel re-energised in the daily grind. I officially ordered a second box of infusion sets last week, and am feeling quite optimistic about our future together.

Ten Things I Wish I Knew About Being Sick With Diabetes

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I wish someone had told me that infections trigger the liver to dump additional glucose into my bloodstream. Then I may not have felt so frustrated over high blood glucose levels.

I wish someone had told me to increase my long acting insulin dose to combat the sick day insulin resistance. Then I may not have gone stir crazy when my levels wouldn’t budge despite correction after correction.

I wish someone had told me that work would be able to survive without me for a day. Then I wouldn’t feel riddled with guilt for spreading my germs over keys and pens and phones. Or live to regret the miserable sight that I am to be around when unwell.

I wish someone had told me that a statutory declaration is sufficient evidence for not being present at school or exams or at work. Then I may have saved myself a few unnecessary trips to the doctor.

I wish someone had told me that putting the Vicks under my nostrils before bed might just help to relive my congestion. Then I wouldn’t be left tossing and turning through the night, plagued with blocked nostrils and piles of wet tissues.

I wish someone had told me that keeping hydrated might just help manage high blood glucose levels. Then I might not end up sculling fluids down when I’m on the borderline of ketones.

I wish someone had told me to get into a habit of washing my hands after coming into contact with others, and especially before food. Then I might not find myself off sick all that often.

I wish someone had told me that I could treat my hypos with juice. Then I wouldn’t be forced to endure jellybeans on a sore, bone dry throat. Or have to worry about keeping my hypo food down.

I wish someone had told me that it’s okay to sleep. Stay in pyjamas, watch Netflix or comfort eat.

I wish someone had told me that I’d weather the storm. The high blood glucose levels, the misery and everything far from the norm.

Hypo in the Diabetes Clinic.

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“Are you still using the Animas?”

“Actually, I have the new YpsoPump.” I replied to the nurse, pulling it out of my pocket.

“Would you like to use your own lancet?”

“Good idea,” I replied, pulling it out of my pencil case and avoiding a bloodbath on my fingers.

“Oh, you’re 3.8,” the nurse said to me after I had applied some blood onto the test strip. “Have you got some hypo treatment on you?”

Before I was even given any time to answer, she had poured me a glass of sugary fluid to drink and handed it to me. Encouragingly, it was an appropriate sized amount that wouldn’t send me rebounding.

“Are you able to feel your hypos?”

“If it’s a steady 3.8, like this one, I feel fine. But if it were a 3.8 and dropping rapidly, I would.” She was lovely, and I didn’t feel that I was being judged.

Another nurse walked in, also wanting to have a look at my new YpsoPump. “Of course, you should treat your hypo first!” She exclaimed to me in a motherly way, after being reminded by nurse one that I was hypo.

“Are you sure I can’t get you some biscuits or anything?” the nurse asked me, as I made my way towards the door.

“No, I’ll be fine. The tea will probably bring me up as well,” I said as I grabbed the Styrofoam cup that I had been given in the hallway earlier.

I made my way back toward the end of the corridor, took a seat and buried my head into my iPhone, grateful for the warm drink on my sore throat. I wasn’t worried.

Some time later, the nurse returned. She hovered for a moment, but I didn’t really notice until she spoke.

“Frank, would you like to check your blood sugar again?”

Knowing it had been sufficiently treated, I had completely forgotten about my hypo. I pulled out my FreeStyle Libre, registering the 3.7. I wasn’t convinced that I needed anything further, and pulled out my meter.

“I’m happy to leave it,” I said, holding up my meter that was displaying a 4.4. “I don’t want to overtreat it, and the tea will probably bring me up a bit more as well.”

“Are you sure I can’t get you any biscuits or something?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

I get that this comes from a good place. A really good place.

Perhaps if hypos hadn’t interrupted many of my work days, bed times, socialising, housework, walks and errands over the years, I might just treat them with the same response as that nurse.

Hypos are not a scary thing, provided I know how to manage them. They are a part of living with diabetes, just like checking my blood sugar or injecting some insulin. Last year at the Roche Educator’s Day, I made a big point of stating that two hypos per week was an unrealistic expectation from my healthcare professionals. Moreso as my skills in managing blood sugars improved and I was spending more time in range.

I get that hypos are not good for me in the long run. I get that hypos can impair my cognitive function. I also get that hypos can be life threatening – and maybe I’m just lucky that I’ve never had one where I’ve needed help. Believe me, I don’t like having hypos anymore than a healthcare professional likes seeing them appear on a blood glucose meter.

However I feel it’s more important that I’m dosing insulin responsibly, checking my blood sugar often enough, travelling with glucose tabs on hand and am able to sufficiently treat a low.

Some healthcare professionals condemn people with diabetes for having too many lows, and this is where we need to reshape our attitudes toward hypos.

Making me feel any lesser for the number of hypos I have will only make it more difficult for me to share openly in front of a healthcare professional, ultimately jeopardising the provision of any support I may need.

Dear Pancreas

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Dear Pancreas,

Congratulations. You’ve officially been in retirement for eight years today. I hope you’ve enjoyed the seemingly endless stretch of long sleep ins and lazy, effortless days.

If there’s one organ in the human body that I’ve truly come to appreciate since you clocked off for the last time eight years ago, it would have to be you.

You were able to produce just the right amount of insulin for the carbohydrates that I sent your way, and convert those carbs into energy for me to use through the day.

You were able to respond to all of the crazy factors that affected my blood sugars. Things like pizza nights, illness, stress, physical activity and even how well I slept last night!

You were able to produce just the right amount of insulin so that my blood sugar didn’t peak too high, but also didn’t drop dangerously low. You never had to chase the unicorns.

I honestly don’t know how you did that gig all by yourself for 17 years. You didn’t have any resources at your disposal. You didn’t have any healthcare professionals to guide you. You didn’t even have any friends to support you. Yet you never once complained.

Being a pancreas is in no way normal. There’s no one else quite like you. The nature of your job can feel rather isolating. Yet you held your head up high. You stood tall. You never once showed a single shred of emotion. You never burned out.

You’ve definitely pushed me far from my comfort zone. I’ve met new people, I’ve visited new places. Your retirement has definitely instilled a great deal more confidence in me than I’d ever once imagined.

Dare I say I’ve taken quite an interest in you. I read about you. I talk about you. I write about you, frequently. I’ve even dedicated a whole blog to your demise. Some might say I’m obsessed with you.

You’ve left me with tonnes of additional duties since you departed the office eight years ago. I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t do the job half as well as you once did. I have to do the job of a human being as well, you know. I do try my best, you know, but somehow I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fill your shoes.

So, in case you had forgotten, today also happens to be my eighth diaversary. I’m not sure if you’ve been out shopping yet, but if you wanted to get me something really nice to mark the occasion, you could simply get up off the couch and come out of retirement.

I know I can’t offer you much, but I promise to feed you, take care of you and provide a roof over your head. I’ll never for a second take your job for granted again.

So, what do you say?

With all my love,

Frank

Breaking Up With My Health Insurer.

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When a loyal customer informs you that they will be taking their business elsewhere for sake of better value for money, you would think that the appropriate response would be to do everything possible to convince you to stay.

When I walked into my local HBF branch on Friday to do just that, the member service advisor (who actually had a connection to diabetes) simply told me that she completely understood.

I’d be lying if I said that I don’t feel a little stung by the health insurer that my family have been loyal to for as long as I can remember. I can remember impatiently waiting at the HBF branch at Karrinyup on many occasions as a kid when my parents had claims issues to deal with. When my Mum and Dad brought me to HBF after I first commenced full time work to take out a policy of my own, I did not even think about choosing anyone else to look after my health.

I genuinely liked that HBF were a West Australian business, with a family feel to it. There were plenty of local branches nearby where I could go and talk to an actual person, rather than deal with a matter over the phone with the call centre on the East Coast. We haven’t ever had a problem with them over the years.

However along with insulin pumps, HBF no longer covers dialysis, cochlear implants and surgical weight loss procedures on basic tier hospital policies. Meanwhile, I can receive claims or discounts for ‘wellness’ products and services which have no value to me on my health cover.

I find it ridiculous that I am forced to have my health insurance cover packaged with other products and services that I have no use for. Admittedly, my new health insurer is no different either. In an ideal world I would go into a branch, tell the insurer what I need coverage for, and have a package that is tailored to my own individual needs.

Over the four year lifespan of my insulin pump, my current premiums (inclusive of the 25% rebate contributed by the federal government) have covered roughly 60% of its cost. Not to mention that many people would not be upgrading their insulin pumps as soon as the four year warranty period is up. Moreso at the moment as we are waiting patiently for the new pump options to hit our shores (watch this space).

Of all people with diabetes, those with type 1 who are the predominant users of insulin pump therapy represent only 11%. Of those 11%, I believe that insulin pumpers would be in the minority. They weren’t encouraged or talked about by my own healthcare professionals. I only came to know more about them from talking to other people with diabetes – and that, in itself, was a massive step for me to make.

I have now broken up with HBF, a decision which will save me at least $550 per year. Diabetes is one awfully expensive condition that I did not ask to get, and I can think of hundreds of other things that I would much rather put that money towards each year.

But for now, I will happily divert that extra $550 per year toward things like insulin pump consumables, batteries, test strips, hypo treatments and insulin. 

As Elaine would say, “you just lost a customer!”

(Clearly, you can tell that I’ve been binging on far too much Seinfeld at the moment…)