April 27, 2008

Head pats

1. Am now the owner and daily wearer of a medical ID. This time around I went with a much simpler look.

2. Am seeing eye doctor in May.

3. Am seeing endo in June. (She's too busy to see me sooner. Will try not to back out over the next, uh, two months.)

I am cautiously proud.

April 15, 2008


Whoa, Violet. Interesting last post there. Dark much?

Okay, here’s my excuse. The path to the light must traverse the darkness. Right? Right?

And, uh, there’s no way out but through. Yeah. That.

Actually, I do believe those things, though I certainly wasn’t thinking about them when I wrote Grim Post. Sunrise dispels the night, though, whether the night intends to be dispelled or not. Holding up my junk to the light is a good way to, at the very least, see it a bit more clearly.

What I see is that I’ve gotten stuck. I knew that already, but wow. When I reread that post, I *know* it, in that deep-in-the-bones kind of way.

What I feel, rereading that post, is that I’d like to unstick myself.

I would?

Yeah. Reasons for unsticking abound, as a matter of fact.

Aha. Going to the endo because I want to is much, much different than going to the endo because I’m supposed to, or because I’m afraid, or because I feel guilty, or because Mrs. Violet is chastising me about it. I can handle going to the endo because I want to--much as I just handled eating two scoops of ice cream because I wanted to. (Peanut butter & chocolate and mint chocolate chip. I regret nothing.)

So. I’ll go. Meemeep will go with me. We will report back.

April 9, 2008

Comfortably Numb: A Confessional of Immaturity

This month marks 3.5 years since my dx. My primary question is how it could possibly be only 3.5 years as opposed to, say, 35.

I’m bored. Diabetes is boring. This post will be boring too: It resays things others have said already, things I’ve said already.

These days I pretend to be as undiabetic as I feel I can possibly get away with. I test, I count, I treat lows and highs, I carry juice. I change the set every fifth or sixth day, I order supplies occasionally, I send Medtronic a few bucks as necessary to maintain the flow of said supplies. I eat pastries and ice cream in significant quantities. I drink more alcohol than is probably advisable for a person who takes insulin.

I don’t exercise beyond walking around the city. I don’t go to the endo. I don’t have my kidneys or eyes or any other parts of me checked for complications. I don’t wear a medical ID since my pretty one broke many moons ago. I don’t read the research, I don’t read blogs, I don’t send money to the ADA or the JDRF or any other acronyms. I don’t craft my diabetic experiences into small sparkling gems of creative nonfiction.

I just don’t.

Most of the time, most of me feels okay with all that. I don’t know my a1C, but then neither does the NYC Department of Health, which suits me fine. My control seems as good as it did when I did know my a1C. I screw up the insulin occasionally, but we all do now and then. I’m here. I’m okay.

I like pretending. It’s more comfortable than the alternative. It isn’t less boring, but it requires less engagement with the boredom, as well as less engagement with the parts that aren’t boring because they’re just plain scary.

Still, there’s a small corner of my brain that cannot repress the occasional flicker of recognition that I’m being Bad, to say nothing of childish, in a way that is not in the long-term interests of Violet. Hence this post.

My prescriptions are about to run out, and last time around the refill authorizations came through with a stern admonishment, delivered via the pharmacist, that I’d have to see the endo to have them extended. And if memory serves, my friends at Medtronic will be looking for a prescription renewal come July as well.

Fine, fine. I’ll go. But I refuse to be interested.

They can’t make me.

February 4, 2008

An unsent letter from Medtronic Customer Service

Dear Valued Customer Violet:

Thanks for your recent order of lifesaving medical supplies. In filling your order, we noticed that payments on your account have fallen behind.

We understand that many people have times of financial difficulty. Heck, we aren’t perfect either! We remember those minor and major inconveniences we’ve caused you in the past. For example:

Sometimes we’ve sent supplies to your home address instead of your work address, despite your request for the latter. And one time we sent them to your old work address—you know, the one that’s halfway across the country from your current one! Sorry about that. When you have as many customers as we do, this kind of stuff gets hard to keep track of.

We also remember the time our accounting department mysteriously set up a second account in your name and started double-billing you on your pump payments. Good thing you gave us a call before we put that extra account into collections! Seriously, though, that one was definitely our bad.

Then there's the undeniable fact that not one but two of your pumps have broken during your three years as a Medtronic customer. (Please accept our condolences on the recent demise of Nellie.) That’s an unfortunate failure rate, to say the least. We’re as glad as you are that you still have one year left on your warranty! Better luck with pump #3.

You’ve been very understanding about these bumps on the road of your diabetes management. That’s why we’re writing to reassure you that even though you owe us several hundred dollars--a significant amount of money to company with $13 billion in sales in 2007--we would never dream of freezing your account and refusing to send you supplies. In particular, we would never, ever tell you that your lifesaving medical supplies are on the way and then freeze your account without informing you for, say, ten days or so. After all, that could put your health at risk! And that’s just not what we’re about here at Medtronic.

So how about it, Violet? Could we set up a payment plan?

Yours in healthful solidarity,

Medtronic Customer Service
Your Partner in Diabetes Care