For the first time in over a year, I am typing this post without having a medical device attached to my stomach. I am completely, involuntarily untethered and it feels both wonderful and strange. My pump decided to malfunction as I was bolusing for my dinner tonight. I had just run 8.5 miles, which included a 6 mile track workout, and I was starving and anxious to eat and shower so I could put the kids to bed. I tested, put the number into my bolus wizard, started to dial up the carbs and the numbers just kept cycling over and over and I wasn’t pressing anything. It was as if the button was stuck. This has happened once before and it resolved itself before I could really panic, but none of the buttons would work this time. I frantically kept pressing with no response so I called Medtronic. While talking to them, I got a “button error” alarm that said a pump button had been continually pressed for over 3 minutes. The Medtronic rep said she would send out a replacement pump and I should receive it by noon tomorrow (that’s what I call service). She told me to call my endo to review my “back-up plan” (I don’t have a back-up plan, so this made me anxious and nervous and annoyed at this unwanted medical emergency).

Kyle helped calm me down because I’ve been known to unravel when I’m not in control of a situation. The doctor on call told me to bolus with an injection for dinner and she would call my endo to find out my basal rates because I am a total idiot and have no idea what they are. Of course, I don’t have any long-acting insulin in the house so she called in a prescription for me (thank goodness our deductible was met and I didn’t have to pay the $50 for it).

I’ve given myself 2 injections so far and they both hurt. I despise shots. I aim those damn needles at least 10 times before I work up the nerve to plunge them in. The handy insertion devices that I use for my infusion site and sensors are a godsend.

The realization that I’m free hit me during my shower. My poor, scarred, bumpy, itchy belly gets a break tonight, but when my new insulin pump comes in the mail tomorrow, I’m going to happily reattach with no complaints. I may have to complain while I spend all morning getting my endo on the phone so I can program the new pump with all of my basal rates, carb ratios, etc., but I promise not to complain about strapping that sucker back on for another year.