I'm Too Sexy for My Pump, Part II

One of the curious and not very likeable aspects (and there are many) of being in a long-distance relationship is that you may find yourself attached for six weeks to a medical device that your beloved person has yet to see. Such is the state of events in Pumplandia, as I last saw my fella the day before I hooked up with Charlotte. This is about to change. I’m off to NY on Thursday, and Charlotte, it goes without saying, will travel with me.

So. Hmm. In a perfect world, this voyage would be without pump-related tension for me. I would be perfectly reconciled to my slightly altered body image, feeling brilliantly attractive, and well equipped with a bevy of pump-compatible girlie outfits. I would be brimming with confidence in my natural sexiness and its ability to carry the day over the, um, visual distractions posed by the infusion set, tubing, and adhesive. But in the imperfect world of diabetes as it intersects with my personality, I only feel/have each of those four things a little bit, some of the time. None at the moment. Even my clothes seem ugly today.

Let me interject at this point that Mr. Brooklyn is and has been as affirming, encouraging, and supportive of my journey into Pumplandia as any partner could be. He has told me in a dozen ways that he isn’t troubled in the least by the concept of those “visual distractions.” I believe him. But I also believe that he can’t really know that for sure, can he, until he sees what I look like with an infusion set stuck in my tummy. Argh. So even though I know on an intellectual level that any worthwhile partner, which Mr. Brooklyn certainly is, would be accepting of the pump, I’m still more distressed than I care to admit.

I keep meaning to post about my experiences telling a coworker about pumping. The exchange reminded me of my own initial feelings about it, when I first heard about the possibility during a period of post-diagnosis shock. Truth is, I was, on an involuntary and visceral level, revolted by the idea of having something attached to me and entering my body. This is hard to acknowledge openly because the last thing I want to do is contribute to anyone’s negative feelings about the gizmo, particularly a prospective pumper (e-mail me!) who is trying to sort through those emotions and needs support. Perhaps for this very reason, I have yet to talk with a person who has a pump who has openly said, yeah, there is something a little gross about it at times, even to me. But that feeling was, for me at that time, a fact. This is the involuntary reaction that I fear in my sweetie, who despite being a very good man cannot help what his brain does with a piece of visual data.

What changed that reaction for me (most of the time) was information. I got to know people who were using pumps, had none of those feelings (or if they had em had dealt with them already!), and were realizing tangible health benefits. And I got a look at actual pumps and infusion sets and decided, okay, I can cope with this. And, maybe most of all, I decided through research that there was an important relationship between my going on the pump and preparing to someday get pregnant and have an optimally healthy pregnancy & baby.

But, as we see, some of the difficulty lingers for me in spite of the progress I’ve made. Honestly, I do believe that my relationship will make the transition just fine. I just wish he had been here, or I there, from the start.