The other night I was sleeping blissfully when I woke up to a small bang and a sharp pain in my stomach. I sleepily wiped my eyes and felt for my pump, it was no longer attached to my body. In my sleep I grumbled at the thought of getting up walking to the bathroom, grabbing my supplies, and then stabbing my cannula into my body. It was in this moment I decided to be dangerous the next Evel Knievel. Instead of jumping off of tall buildings or over a line of cars I was going to do the most daring thing of all…go back to sleep.
I know there are some of you who must be thinking I am crazy person and that I was risking my life. What you should know though is that I wouldn’t have another basal dosage until 7:00am and would be waking up around 5:30am that morning. I figured in my sleepy state of mind that it wouldn’t hurt to stay detached for a brief moment and I rolled over and went to bed without my robot companion.
My alarm went off and as I willed myself to get out of bed. My hubs came in the room and said in a calm, but concerned voice, “isn’t your pumps suppose to be attached to you”? Grumpily (which is my normal state in the morning until I have had coffee) I replied, “yes, it ripped out of me last night and I didn’t feel like fixing it”. And with that said, my husband shrugged and said “ok” and then I got into the shower.
Before I ate my breakfast I grabbed all of my supplies to reinsert my pump and in a matter of seconds became a robot again. I checked my blood sugars (unfortunately they were high, I think my body did it to be mean) gave myself some insulin and continued with my morning routine.
You won this one diabetes…