Monday, October 13, 2014

Want to hear something crazy?

In one week I will have been on the animas insulin pump system for four years.

Four years ago I was through the moon happy to be off shots. Being on a pump meant being able to set my basals for different times throughout the day, it meant not going low from a lantus spike at midnight and having to stay up and chug an entire pack of juice boxes every night, it meant not staying up until 2am trying not to let my bg drop any further. It also meant the end of those long nights when my mom and I would watch old TV shows or  chat about life while we waited for the next testing interval.

That I have missed.

Not the exhaustion, not being tied to a certain time lantus had to be taken, or feeding the insulin in the middle of the night and fighting highs in the morning, but that time, when mom and I were the only people in the world who were still awake.

I have a lot of beautiful memories of my mother sitting on my bed looking like death. I wish I was creative and could paint the picture for you. They were not exactly happy times, but I remember the strength and beauty that I saw in my mom at those times, and those night when she slept at the foot of my bed were precious in a twisted sort of way.

It was something we shared, our special time together. Not that we didn't spend time together during the day, but there is a special bond between people who have fought death all night and woken in the morning to live as if life was normal.

My insulin pump changed my life. It freed me from shots, and from lantus, but it also took something. While I am so thankful that most nights. I can sleep almost completely interrupted, sometimes I miss those exhausting nights we shared. I am so thankful that I was able to see my mother's love and dedication to me in such a poignant way, and I am so glad that we shared those times.

Thanks mom.