I've got one! I've got one!
and it's not who you'd think...
it's...
MY MOM!
The other night when we were at my son's hockey league's pasta dinner fundraiser, I whipped out my pump and was bolusing for the meal, and she said this:
"I don't know why you like that thing. It seems like such a hassle. I just don't get it."
She went on to say that she didn't understand how I could have this thing hooked to me all day and all night and do what I needed to do.
I tried to explain to her that it's really not an issue. You'd never know I had it on, and it makes my glucose control a total breeze. It's my external pancreas. I just have to tell it what to do sometimes!
Personally, I don't think she understands the sheer joy of pumping-no 5-6 shots a day for me, no worrying if I have the right kind of insulin, or even doing what I did the first week I was on insulin-grabbing the wrong kind and shooting myself full of humalog instead of lantus. YIKES. That was one heck of a night. Not one I'd like to repeat.
Do I like all of the choices she's made? No. Not at all, but do I support her? Totally. I just don't understand why she has to make these comments and be a total piece of work while I'm trying to get it all together.
It boils down to this-if you can't say anything nice and supportive, don't say anything at all.
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