TSA patdowns, and longing for pump breaks

I have had a couple trips to Phoenix, AZ during August as a result of landing a new job.  (Picture me doing goofy endzone celebration dance celebrating that I finally found an awesome firm to join, and am feeling the support of a sound infrastructure to enable me to better serve clients.)  It's been a very exciting end to summer 2011, and if it weren't for the 10lbs I packed on I'd probably be angst free at least until the fall rains come.

As a result of wearing my pump through security, I have had TSA guards coppin feels.  Even though the device doesn't trigger the metal alarm, the pager look-alike triggers much suspicion.  Maybe, just maybe this chubby white girl is carrying a bomb with a tiny tube that goes to her belly, and she is going to blow up her belly and the plane.  Sure, I'd love to blow some fat away, but I'm not your suicide bomber.  I really do wish TSA wouldn't have to be so damned politically correct, and COULD racially and/or demographically profile the folks that are actually a threat.  I don't buy into this bull shit that EVERYONE is a threat to our flights.  No, no, no...there is a very specific subset of the population that is likely to blow themselves up with a plane.  Your frequent business flyer is not part of this subset.  Yes, I'm annoyed that my pump is triggering this slowdown, but even more annoyed that I have to undress and pull out my laptop for this waste of time procedure in the first place.  I don't feel any safer, but I suppose I should be glad that the useless jobs are employing folks.

On a less angsty note, this last weekend the sun showed bright in Seattle and the temperatures rose.  I headed east to Lake Kachess, and went up to Box Canyon Creek for some swimming.  I decided to take some Lantus long acting insulin, and not wear my pump for about 8 hours.  There is some concern that river water could get into the port and cause infections so I had a good reason to choose not to infuse.  When I detached for a few hours, and got to wear my bathing suit without the port I realized how much I was resenting having to wear the thing. 

I am starting to see some improvements in control with the clunky device, but the annoyance of the size of the machine and the itching from the tape and port is causing me to long for breaks.  I suppose the one benefit of having health challenges in life is that they make you REALLY appreciate the most simple moments of feeling okay, and being machine free, even if only for a couple hours.

Yeah, I am doing injections when I go to Maui for sure, the pump is staying home.....no TSA pat down, or open port holes in the ocean, on that trip.

That noise is ME, not my pump...I'm an engine reving up more bravery

It’s been said before, the bravest thing you can do when you are not brave, is to profess courage and act accordingly.  In other words, fake it until you make it.

Ever hear those sales pitches when someone says, “I’m going to give 110%!”?!  It’s one of those so fake over promising lines, but it makes us feel GOOD. 

If we’re talking revenue streams, billable hours, or return on investment……..110% is something that only happens after multiple glasses of wine or cocktails.  When I think of examples of when I’ve heard this line, it is reality television involving Donald Trump or the Bachelor series….a whole lot of bull shit.  I've had a doctor tell me once that living with Diabetes requires people to give 110%.

So many folks over-promise, and under-deliver.  Presidential candidates are a perfect example, but that discussion is beyond the scope of this rant.  This rant is about my promising to take better care of myself, to give 110% or even 75% to my health while I give more than 50% to other areas of my life that are more pleasant.

I’ve already professed my aversion to changing from injection insulin therapy to pump infusion.  The battle inside my head, body and soul I could only attempt to put to words, but the angst, excitement and hope I felt really can’t be expressed.  Most of you read my attempt to feign excitement for the change; while I was internally NOT WANTING TO HAVE TO DO ANYTHING, and hoping this malfunction in my body would go away already.

I keep waking up, and each day I’m still a T1 Diabetic.  Every day, all damn day, despite all physical and spiritual endeavors to alleviate being sick……after healing books I’ve read, spiritual healing pursued, Reiki treatments channeling healing energy taken, back adjustments received, as well as attempts to exercise and not eat carbs, or way back expecting Jesus would take away my need for insulin.  Turns out no matter how much "faking" I attempt; I will ALWAYS need a shot or some infusion of insulin.  I take my need for insulin for granted, but try not to take life for granted.

Unfortunately, the line between gratitude for life and frustration toward the work to live gets blurred, and I grow so tired that my positive attitude flips to inconsolable anger.  Blessed are my acquaintances that see only the high energy exterior, cursed are those that get close to me and see the anger I’m giving 100% to hide, or erase and can't.

I’ve had a detachable organ for about a month now.  It is not the panacea I prayed for, but it is a change worth investing in.  Yes, I still must test my blood glucose levels.  Lately, more than I did in the past to deal with the transition to just fast acting insulin.  Internally I feel uneasy, and the anxiety is intensified. 

However, the change in therapy is making testing new and more interesting.  I’m always enthralled by the new and exciting; even if it has the darkest realities.  Turns out my blood sugar is unusually unpredictable, perhaps my blood sugars and indecisive nature somehow correlate.  All this new testing info is informative and scary.  I feel proud to be gathering it, but am also ridden with anxiety that my blood sugars are not PERFECT just like my other life project that I give my all to, my garden.

It is such a catch 22 to focus on Diabetes control only to realize you’re NOT IN CONTROL.  I am at a point where I’m succeeding at my career, paying my bills and then some, growing a great garden (with annoying perfection) as well as being a neighborhood volunteer, and none of it is giving me the satisfaction I seek….I still feel like I’m failing...at being happy, satisfied, or something....not even sure just what it is....but this haunting sense of failure is such a "monkey".  I'd have to give 120% to reach the level of perfection I want, but I'm starting to accept that may not be possible.

I feel overwhelmed and anxiety ridden so much of the time, but that is life dealing with illness…..you’re simply used to the one in a million negative thing happening to YOU or other people in your life that we spend time worrying about.

I have so many days when I test my sugars and see another high, and think I should be dead already.  I swallow thankfully saying I’m going to do better, I’m going to embrace and enjoy my life and live as long as I can.  Then my body sits down, I feel tired, and I feel the machine on my stomach and the awkward tubing….I know my soul is trying, and I wish my body would cooperate more often.

I feel thankful for the technology, but I am still resentful of the price and the hardship that it entails.  Reality is, I am just tired of needing the technology, but I still have some bravery left to keep faking that this SHIT doesn’t cause me so much angst.

As long as we are faking bravery, DAMMIT I will succeed because I am a HEMME; strong like the engine.

A trip to Maui in October will surely help fuel the engine to keep on going..... :)