I am officially started. Yesterday, at 12:25, I officially became a cyborg. When my brother-in-law came for Thanksgiving, he told me that if I got all terminator on him, he was going to have to take action. One of my sisters got this sad look in her face--that I was excited about getting a pump. Familys are weird.
Because I'd taken levemir that morning, she put me on a temp basal of 0% until this morning. But that ended just after my shower, so now I'm even getting basal insulin again. That's probably a good thing. Last night I was 174 before going to bed, and 153 when I woke up--yes, I took the corrections, but I think I'm ready to be back on a basal as soon as possible.
I had no problem getting the thing off for my shower (I have a minimed revel) but when I tried to put it back on, I was scared I was going to have to call the pump trainer in a panic because I couldn't seem to do it. I mean, I had the right placement, but . . . well, anyway, it went back on.
The weirdest thing about having a pump is that I start dinner with everyone else. Last night, I estimated my carbs, plugged it into the pump, hit act, and everyone else wasn't even at the table yet. They've gotten into the habit of ignoring me for five minutes when I come to the table, on the theory that I have to wrestle with my insulin before it's actually dinner time.
Today, because it's the end of the semester, there's a party for the English department that I'm going to go to and mooch free food because after all, I'm a graduate student. Then I have a meeting with my professor, but this is the last thing I'll have to do for my own classwork this semester. No finals for me--for any of my classes. All that will be left is the grading, and I have a stack of portfolios from my little freshmen that's about eighteen inches tall. Ok, that's maybe an exaggeration--but it feels like a mountain. But hopefully, I'll get a good start on that today and get my grades in on time and just concentrate on worrying about the pump.
Like, what are the kids going to do when they see it? My little nephew (he's three now) plays with his mama's phone constantly, I just have this nightmare that he'll see my pump and start tugging, although I have to admit it looks nothing like his mama's phone.
Ah well. That's a worry for another day.