So today was an adventure. About an hour into work, my infusion site decided to start melting off. And since my only transportation is the bus or my feet. I had to call my friends to go dig through my apartment, find me a new site and bring one in for me.
I called up the CSM (Customer Service Manager), explained the situation and asked her to have someone watch the door while I went and made calls. She had no problem with that. She just said, "Please don't pass out on me." I chuckled and said I haven't yet. I was disinclined to tell her the effect ice cream, pizza, pasta or any high, fast acting carb has on me when I forget insulin. ;) It wasn't really relevant.
I called up the Drewicus (one of Sweet Guy's roommates and one of our best friends) and he handed me off ("Hey man, it's your fiance.") to Sweet Guy. Thank goodness he was there since none of the other guys know all the parts of my pump and would have no clue what I needed. (BTW, Sweet Guy doesn't have a cell, that's why I didn't call him direct.)
"Hey hon, what's up?"
"Sweetie, my site is falling out and my last number read 345. Could you do me a huge favor, go to my apartment, grab me a new site and get here as soon as you can?"
I instantly heard a tone in his voice. "I'll be there as soon as I can, I'll see you soon Love." He hung up.
I ran back up to the front and waited while Sweet Guy got there. Since he doesn't have a car either he had to ride the bus, it took him about an hour (quite a pain in the butt since it's only a five minute drive... we really need a car). During that hour, I swear the CSM came over five times just to make sure I was still standing and I know she had a few other associates watching me too.
Sweet Guy finally walked in the door, sweat was beaded all across his face, I thought it was only because it was 85 degrees outside. But after we both got off work tonight, he admitted he had been sweating so hard because all he could think was, "Crap, Jess is going to pass out on me before I get there, stupid, idiotic, slow buses... crap crap crap." Obviously he had a few stronger words.
I had no idea how affected he would be just by hearing that number. (Since, anymore, the highest I usually go is 220 and even that's rare, I can see why 345 threw him.) I may feel like crap in the 300s but I don't start freaking out until I can't get out of the 500s or higher.
But still, the moral of the story is, I have an amazing group of friends, a pretty decent place to work and one hell of a fiance. Oh yeah, also, follow the diabetic motto a little better: Be Prepared.
(BTW, there are two other posts in creation, be sure to check below this one for the other two.)
An August Appendectomy
4 days ago