It is hard for me to look back on the time when I totally did not want you. I (and my currently awesome blood sugars) am so grateful that your tubeless allure finally allowed you to worm your way into my life. I thought that you, with your industrial-strength adhesive and occasionally incessant beeping, were no match for my dry skin and privacy concerns. I thought that if what the representative said was true, that I’d only be able to have you on my arm or abdomen, that our time together would be brief indeed (especially after I knocked you off my arm for the third time). It seemed like when we went through that rough patch in November and December of 2013 – my goodness, do you remember the fights and the crying and ALL THE BEEPING? – that we might never mend fences. But here we are, three years later, and I’m pretty sure I love you.
Definitely have not (and don’t want) to try these all, but it’s nice to know there are possibilities!
I started to love you when I found some great people online who shared their favorite off-label locations for placing you (hello, lower back!). I was pretty sure this was The Real Deal when you helped me lower my a1c by more than 1.5 points. And when we finally found the perfect basal program (how fun was that?), I knew I was in this for The Long Haul.
I like to call this “Reason Why Long-Acting Insulin Was Such a Pain for Me.”
But this week? When I had to live without you for two days? I was bereft. And it was then that I really, really knew we were going to be together forever. Even if your personal style is outdated (no one uses a Palm Pilot anymore!). And even though, despite the fact that you’ve never been with anyone else, I have to tell you my name every time we meet. Or when you do that thing around 60 hours where I think you may have quit but then it turns out you decide to hang around for the full 80. I still love you.
(also, I totally don’t remember what dose of long-acting insulin I used to take)
Please continue to be covered by my insurance forever!*
(*if there were any doubt, um, NO this post was not sponsored by anyone but me)
Recovering from injury sucks, there are no two ways about it. I don’t keep track any more of how long it’s been since I ran x number of miles, or how long my foot has been hurting me, etc. There’s no joy in commemorating those types of milestones. Instead, I’ve been trying to remind myself of the positive markers along this journey… such as being allowed to add walking back into my routine, riding my bike 3-4 times a week, and swimming laps for 30 minutes without feeling like I’m going to drown (which is honestly probably even less about my diminished fitness level than it is the arrogance of thinking I can properly execute the swimming strokes I learned more than 20 years ago).
However, the running milestones have been nonexistent, until this past weekend, when I earned my last DNS of 2015! In running parlance, DNS is “Did Not Start,” meaning someone registered for but did not show up at the start of a race. I’ve had more of these over the past several months than I care to count, but I’m positive that yesterday marked the last Race I Registered For And Will Not Run. Not because I am back up and running (nope, still not there), but because I’ve had the sense to not register for any more races until I am 1000% cleared by my physical therapist to do so! I feel a little stronger every week, and the temptation to run just a little bit is always in the back of my mind… as well as the temptation to register for upcoming 5k and 10k races. But my goal right now is to get back in shape and stay there for the long term… and risking injury in the short-term is a nice way to screw that up! So I am forgoing any future race registrations for the time being.
Even though any medical professional would recommend the total opposite, I’ve Googled the everliving daylights out of my injury (“calk weakness from L5/S1 impingement,” “L5/S1 runners,” “L5/S1 foot weakness,” “running and L5/S1,” “L5/S1 and plantar fasciitis”… take your pick!). And I’ve read of people having literally every length of recovery time under the sun. In the meantime, I’m doing what is “allowed” and every time I get frustrated at my inability to “exercise,” I remember my 6-page physical therapy routine and the rainbow of Thera Bands in my home. Exercise comes in many forms. Not just running.
And even if I’m not running yet, LC25K210K2HM* is still on the horizon!
*You know… “Lumbar Cushion to 5k to 10k to Half Marathon”…
I love the feeling of satisfaction when a 90-day prescription arrives in the mail. Although it’s been a long time, I did once have incredibly crappy insurance that made the procuring of next month’s insulin a dicey affair, and that memory remains. So it’s always nice to know I’m set for 3 months.
But come on! The ratio of packaging to prescription is INSANE.
Surely someone could design a smaller cooler to ship refrigerated medication? My idea, which I’m pretty sure is not very revolutionary, involves the same exact cooler, ice pack, and box… but smaller. Like for Barbie, or a dollhouse, or my cat.
Because seriously, this quantity of styrofoam is not helping anyone.