Test strips
I love the continuing conversation our community has about test strips. This morning I signed a petition asking Medicare to cover CGM’s, I complained to someone yesterday about the lack of coverage for unlimited tests with various insurance companies and Medicare, and last week there was a discussion in chat about which test strips are better or worse than others. Today I found two test strips on the floor of my car.
My relationship with test strips is well, less than full. Of course when I was newly diagnosed I used clinistix and clinitest. For those of us who have never heard of this (I hope we never have anyti8ng like this again) it was urine testing. For clinitest one would urinate and collect the specimen then use a mix of water, a chemical tablet, and the specimen shake and judge the color of the solution to a printed chart on the side of the box. For clinistix one would dip the treated end of the plastic stick in the specimen and then once again compare it to a color chart on the side of the box.
If the process seems flawed, it was. For one it really measured what occurred with your blood sugar 2-3 hours prior. I for one had difficulty judging the color. Is the color brown or yellow or in between, or blue or green or whatever. One could seriously judge the same result at least 4 different ways and on the boxes I used two or three languages. The results were read as negative, 1+, 2+ 3+ or the dreaded 4+. Oh and before someone reminds me, if the sample was not judged at the exact right time, the sample was concoction was spoiled and you had to do it again. Sometimes you wondered, did I measure to soon, too late, too on time?
An acquaintance who had diabetes long before me told me a time she was on a date and spilled the specimen all over her clothes twice. She needed the test for a doctor’s visit the morning after and she said she ran out of the date, found a telephone called her mother and went away without telling her date she was leaving. Yes it was quit the 70s thing for High School kids to wear urine.
By the time I was about 15 my mom (also a type 1) could no longer see much, let alone distinguish color. So she took to running from the bathroom to my father’s side in the given 30 seconds, while counting seconds, restaurants were a particularly difficult task. My mom on crutches running out the women’s restroom and stumbling thru the restaurant calling Larry, Larry (My dad’s name) is something I will never forget. Also my mother, sensing my dismay with the whole matter, taught me to say Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz oh what a relief it is while I waited for the results. I of course changed it to Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz oh what a pain in the (ahh, ahh oh yes) behind it is. Or something like that. No matter how you stacked it up it was an awful way to run the good ship diabetes.
Then of course we got the blood mixer kits. Wow what a terrific advance. (not). Same general thing you draw some blood on your finger and put it on a surface, I think mine was plexiglass, and then you use the blood to prepare a specimen and once again compare that final concoction, this time to a liquid color chart contained in glass tubes. The color would tell you your blood sugar range, for instance in my kit the color green was 150 to 200. There were nine colors as I recall in my kit and it took up more space than my entire baseball card collection times 3. Wow I hated lugging that thing around, so I well ahh stopped lugging it around. In fact I stopped using it. My father (who by that time was doing all of my moms) would call and wonder what my blood sugar was and I would look at the kit and call out a color. Well dad, I am blue green today. Then he would report my moms and he wondered why I got upset talking to him. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I could not afford the test stuff, refused to see a doctor and really didn’t care. He would always so oh I am so glad we are not doing Clinitest. Me as well dad was always my response. I mean a man needs something to do and doing this was my dad’s thing for years.
Finally of course we became digital. Stick a strip in drop some blood on it and wait for the digital read out. First a minute wait, then 45 seconds and finally it was down to the magic of today. So when I find test strips on the floor of my car. Well it brings up countless memories. Every day I stick myself 7 to 10 times each time it brings up a memory. I suppose some are good many upsetting and many more makes one melancholy. Today seeing those test strips, sent me to this melancholy place.
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Rick