#needlesarescary

[mybellana20]

Donated blood & made a new friend today! What a cutie☺️💕 #donatedblood #needlesarescary #loveit #allisonyoureawesome #ranintosal #hesawesometoo

[insulind]

Need-le Fright

     So, generally, I suppose, people begin with a first post explaining their purposes for writing, who they are, why you should care, et cetera, et cetera. Well, you probably won't really care--unless you actually know me (hi mom)--or you have type 1 diabetes, since that is what this blog is going to be about. Ultimately, I am writing this for me. I love to write. I love to make people laugh. What I don't love is dealing with T1D.  You can take my pancreas, you can take my ability to eat food whenever I want, but you cannot take my words, diabetes...unless, of course, my blood sugar is low, then my words probably sound more like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RoVNBfPEQu8

(If you bothered to click on the video, I was referring to the animated ipad feline, not the baby)

But let's cut to the chase, shall we? I have had diabetes since I was about the size of the baby in that video. I don't remember what not being diabetic was like. I don't know what not having to deal with needles and stabbing implements and blood and glucose tablets is like. I say this in order to give you the necessary background to help you appreciate what I am about to say next.

I think I am afraid of needles. 

WHEW! What a relief it is to get that out into the ether. I mean, it's ridiculous. It's like a primate who eats bugs being afraid of bugs, or, I don't know, any species on earth that breathes air being afraid of...air. I need these infuriating, blood letting/insulin inserting stabbing nuisances to live.

And usually, they are no more than a nuisance, and sort of a joke. I mean, seriously, the finger prick device is called a lancet, you know, like a tiny lance. Basically, it's like I'm partaking in miniature medieval jousting tournament on my finger every time I test my blood sugar, hoping that m'lady Meter will bestow upon me the favor of a blood sugar result lower than 120 (really, though under 150...after pizza, under 180...after my asleep self decided to pull my insulin pump site out, under 300). 

And then, miraculously about a year ago, I got my continuous glucose monitor device after, you know, trying to get one for YEARS. I mean sure, I would still have to test my blood sugar and use a pump, but hey, now I could tell when my blood sugar levels were falling or rising.

And at the time I was like, "Huzzah! I have won the battle against my insurance company!" Trumpeters appeared atop city walls to resound the victory, there was confetti in the streets, and a most beautiful rainbow came down from the heavens--you know, typical things that happen when you wear your insurance company down and they pay for something that they were trying not to cover.  

But then came the thing I was NOT expecting, the peripeteia in my saga of getting this device...and it was a harpoon. 

No, for reals. Harpoon is not a metaphor for my unexpected turn of events. I had to inject a needle the size of a whaling harpoon inside my skin.

(Okay, metaphor no, hyperbole, yes...I get dramatic when I'm scared). 

So, yeah I can TOTALLY inject this harpoon into my body. You know, in the same way I CAN go skydiving and I CAN try the bathtub gin my former landlord Jeb always talked about, and in the same way I CANNOT fly a pegasus to the forested Star Wars moon of Endor and live with Ewoks--because sadly the latter does not actually exist (or does it?) and the former things are real, possible scenarios that exist in the world and can physically happen.

But just because I can shoot myself with a harpoon, or jump out of an airplane, or drink what is likely toxic moonshine, doesn't mean that I want to do any of these things. But, even though my initial reaction to sticking this "needle" into my body is similar to my reaction whenever a spider crawls towards me in my apartment, I know that I need to fight my initial urge to get as far away from it as possible and yell "get it! get it!" Because it will help my body, even though it is terrifying. My brain knows this. I just need to get my initial response to get in line. 

But retraining and questioning your body is something diabetics do a lot. We can't trust thirst or hunger. We can drink juice at incredible speeds when our blood sugars are low, even when we don't feel like consuming anything. We get out of bed in the middle of the night when a low comes on, even though the symptoms make exponentially harder to move our limbs.

So, I guess somehow I will need to retrain my gut reaction, get over this sudden fear of needles. This phobia is a luxury I cannot afford. And who knows, maybe that will also rid me of my fear of spiders.

Psh, what am I saying? I am going to fear spiders so long as am afforded that luxury.