This particular article pertains to one of many diabetes choices for self-care. Although the choices to stay alive with this disease may seem limited, they do exist.
For example, food choices are a great factor and choice with a yes or no answer through a calculated decision; which exercise to perform on which day (constant and effervescent planning and scheduling) in order to break down calories and maintain an acceptable weight, encourage the body’s circulation, neurological and every other multitudinous life system; maintaining a daily, constant schedule of repeat medication choices, be it insulin doses or pill forms. I’m sure you can come up with a number of your own choices when attempting to balance this demon.
At his time in my life, I have been diabetic for more than 56 years. Approximately twenty (20) years ago, I made the decision to purchase an insulin pump, go through the rigamorole of accomplishing this task alone, and live happily ever after. (Buckroth, A. K. My Diabetic Soul – An Autobiography, 2010, Prismatic Publishing, Roseville, CA, page 230).
My initial prompting to return to insulin injections is due to a second infection of an infusion site from the us of an infusion set. Although I use rubbing alcohol consistently on my body parts to do this when changing sites, rubbing the cleaned and chosen rotated area profusely, an infection occurred, again. A year ago last October (2014), an infection from a site in my left hip brought me to my GP’s (General Practitioner’s) office. It was red, swollen and pussy = infected. She took a fluid sample of the ‘wound,’ sent it to the lab, confirming E-coli. Ugh and WTH. Placed on a 10-day antibiotic, I blamed that instance on my changing the set and site in my bathroom. I blamed me before anyone else had the chance to do so!
Use to having authority figures (doctors, nurses, medical staff personnel, etc.) blame me for any – any – wrong doing or misunderstanding of a diabetes hardship, I swallowed this one as well. I am OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) due to diabetes, meaning I am overly clean. My personal blame for this personal infraction is toward the insulin pump company. No,I did not alert them of this instance or the latest one either. “Why bother?” I asked myself. “They” are only going to, once again, list involved variables, try to gain facts, and point to me, the user/operator.
You see, I am tired – tired of having to fight medical establishments for proper care. Tired of one doctor sending me–referring me–to another because he or she does not know or does not want to be bothered with any one of my circumstances. Period. Not only have I learned to take care of myself, my adult years have further encouraged such strategic and minute care through holistic, naturopathic, herbology, and ayurvedic measures through lengthy internet research.
The insulin pump has terribly scarred my body. It has caused an increase in my white blood cell count for good reason after having an intrusive–albeit plastic needle in my person constantly–decreasing my already weakened immune system. Twenty years is a long time for anything, never mind having to have an intrusive needle in your person day-after-day-after-day.
Although having diabetes, juvenile diabetes (T1D), has been accepted through force upon me through no choice of my own, and to me from family and friends, it continues to remain misunderstood – until an individual or a loved one are singled out by the powers that be to become a diabetic. Through these many years, diabetes has been embarrassing, even humiliating to deal with. It’s not easy, as with any disease.
Therefore, with all this said and done, my decision to return to insulin injections remains specifically due to the popularity of insulin pens: the needle heads are smaller, thinner, unable to intimidate nerve damage, scarring, bruising, bleeding, discomfort and infection(s). I was brought up with injections. Two shots a day through a glass and metal contraption (way before disposable needles) containing NPH (pig and cow insulin) for “long lasting” control and Regular insulin, “fast acting” insulin twice a day. Returning to that necessity is my goal.
Perhaps I am reverting to my younger self, when childhood was brighter, my knowledge of self-care was new and hopeful. However, as an older adult, I once again must confront the young doctor(s) to listen to my plea. I have had diabetes longer than any of them have been born, never mind longer than they have been doctors!
Reality is frightening when pleading for a change as a cure is on a distant horizon.
A. K. Buckroth