Medic Alert

A Medical Alert Bracelet That I Actually Like Wearing!

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I’m not fond of Medical Alert Bracelets.

They’re fidgety.

They don’t look nice.

Every time I see one of those small round stainless steel emblems on someone’s wrist, I automatically think of some kind of allergy or sickness that I hope I won’t get.

In the past, I’ve only worn my bracelet when I’m travelling, alone or a fair way from home. Situations where an emergency may be more likely to happen…

Earlier this year, I made somewhat of a resolution to put more of an effort into wearing my Medical Alert bracelet. I’ve kept it in plain sight atop my chest of drawers, so that I’ll remember to put it on when I go to grab my wallet and keys and watch. I think I’d rate my adherence to this resolution a 4 out of 5.

However, I still can’t get super excited about wearing it.

Catalogues from Australian Medic Alert arrive in my mailbox every year, showcasing their latest and greatest ranges. But to be honest, nothing really appeals to me. It’s that same round stainless steel emblem, perhaps with a fancier band and a price tag that I know I won’t get my money’s worth from.

Last month, I was contacted by Lace from a company called American Medical ID in Texas. American Medical ID have been around since 1994, and their aim is to bring people stylish Medical ID jewellery options that they love and would be proud of wearing.

Lace kindly sent me this Lynx Trilogy bracelet, and it is probably the nicest Medical Alert bracelet I have ever worn.

What I love most about American Medical ID is that there is no annual membership tied to the purchase of a Medical ID bracelet (although it is available as an optional add on). I have been extremely frustrated by price hikes from the Australian Medic Alert Foundation, and I am starting to question whether I actually need to be paying $49 a year just to have my identification details stored in a database. I’ve almost always got identification on me when I’m out and about.

The most important thing to me is that a Medical ID can identify my medical condition in an emergency. Paramedics here in Australia are trained to look for bracelets, necklaces and even tattoos, so big tick there. This bracelet also has plenty of room for engraving, with four lines of 15-18 characters available on both the front and the back of the bracelet. I’ve simply gone with my name, ‘type 1 diabetes’ and ‘insulin dependent,’ but there was plenty of room to add more.

I was also most impressed to see that American Medical ID have an online store for Australian customers, trading as Universal Medical ID, and a dedicated Australian customer service team.

After 2 weeks with this bracelet, I absolutely love wearing it.

I’m also really happy to find more choice in the Medical ID market here in Australia, because I shouldn’t have to wear or pay for something I’m unhappy with.

Thinking about a Medical ID for yourself? Lace has provided me with this guide on how to choose your own Medical ID.

You can find American Medical ID here, and their Australian contingent, Universal Medical ID, here.

Disclosures: American Medical ID sent me a Lynx Trilogy bracelet after reading one of my earlier blog posts on Medical ID. All thoughts and opinions expressed here are my own.

Conversation Starter

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How much do one of those cost? a colleague asked me in the middle of a delicious ham and cheese sandwich last week.

She was referring, of course, to the medic alert bracelet that was wrapped around my wrist.

It was a good question. A good question, indeed.

My parents had ordered my bracelet for me back when I was diagnosed six years ago. Since then, I’ve only ever coughed up the annual membership fee of 20ish dollars, and watched the accompanying catalogues gather dust on my desk (with the best of intentions, of course).

Last year, I finally replaced the annoying expanda-band with the standard curb chain. But how much an actual emblem costs, I couldn’t tell you exactly. Maybe 70-ish dollars?

I’ve been wearing my bracelet diligenly since I last wrote about it in January. It’s still annoying. It still feels suffocating. I’d still rather not wear it. It’s still the first thing that I want to rip off my wrist, the minute I walk in the door of the house.

Yet I’ve still been diligently making a habit of putting it on when I leave the house each day, particularly if I’m going to be on my own. I don’t stash it in the drawer with my keys, wallet and watch at the end of the day, where I’ll likely forget about it. I leave it in plain sight atop my chest of drawers, so that it’s the first thing I see when I go to grab my valuables.

You can put whatever you like on your emblem, I explained. 

If I go to hospital, they’ll see that I have type 1 diabetes and am dependent on insulin. It’s just a great thing that communicates with paramedics or doctors if I’m on my own and can’t speak for myself.

It could save my life.

My trusty bracelet had not only proven to be a good conversation starter that day, but had also reaffirmed to me why I wear it, each and every day.

An Ode to the Medic Alert Bracelet

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We’ve never liked each other very much, have we?

From the day that nurse with diabetes came to visit me in the hospital, showing me one of your siblings in the hopes of altering my enthusiasm towards the initial idea of you.

The initial idea of you branding me as a diabetic. Labelling me, for the whole world to see. Marking me with a permanent reminder of the condition that I will be stuck with for the rest of my life.

I’ve tried. I really have.

But you annoy me. Your expanda band sticks to my skin. I can’t help but fidget with you. ALL THE TIME. My wrist feels trapped, and suffocated every single time I have you on.

You leave my Mum and Dad’s words ringing in my ears.

“But it could save your life!”

I convince myself that it will never happen to me. An accident.

I convince myself that I’ll at least be conscious enough to utter the words “diabetes” if I ever find myself on the stretcher in an ambulance.

“But it could save your life!”

The words keep ringing in my ear. So much so, that I’m driven enough to wear you when I go out for long drives on my own. And on aeroplanes. You know, where an accident is more likely to happen…

But we’re still not able to make it work.

“What about a necklace?” You ask.

“What about something fancier?” The catalogue, filled with your dressed up children and cousins teases.

To be fair, jewellery annoys me too. And I hate having my pockets weighted down with anything that isn’t necessary.

But I am trying. I really am.

After committing to a watch in 2016, I felt motivated enough to replace your expanda band with a curb chain. It was a mild improvement. But not enough to actually wear you.

After leaving you in plain sight on my chest of drawers for months, I’ve finally decided that a New Year is as good an opportunity as any to make more of an effort to wear you in 2017.

I’m trying to see the good in you.

Won’t you be kind to me?