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One Podtato…Two Podtato…Three Podtato…FOUR!

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I haven’t kept up my Monday posts of late.  The culprit – moving.  It was my first move with T1D officially present and accounted for.  I’ve had things to say about this experience but just not the time to sit down and type it out.  Two things in particular were not as I expected them to be.

First, the lows.  Oh the lows!  Every time I turned around I was having to stop and consume some form of fast acting carb.  I thought the stress of moving coupled with the fact that the movers were doing the great majority of the packing, lifting, loading and unloading and I wasn’t getting my regularly scheduled exercise would cause my glucose levels would be on the high side. What I came to realize was that being in constant motion, including unknown numbers of trips up and down the stairs, was like going to the gym and getting on the treadmill on a brisk walk setting alternating with the  Stair Master all…day…long.

Next, to explain my nursery-rhyme title, the pod changes. Oh the pod changes! Four pods to be exact.  It got to be a bit silly.  Perhaps that’s what brought to mind the childhood rhyme; “one potato, two potato, three potato, four…”  I’ve always known that I have had challenges with spatial awareness (thinking I could walk through a door jamb instead of around it).  What I didn’t realize was just how much I relied on things being in a certain place within my spaces.  One of the most frustrating pod changes came late at night.  I had waited up to hit the confirm button on my Omnipod PDM; yes, my blood sugars were in range after the recent pod change.  For those of you not familiar with the Omnipod, it alarms roughly 90 minutes after you change your pod to remind you to check your glucose levels.  Mission accomplished.  I started to climb in bed only to realize that I needed to go around the bed to turn off the other bedside light.  My big daughter had happily fallen asleep on that side of the bed and I didn’t have the energy to attempt to displace her.  The bed was surrounded by piles of things to be packed. Nothing was in its’ proper place/space.  Carefully I picked my way around the bed, gave my girl a peck on the forehead, and turned off the light.  My light was still on.  As I made my way back around the bed I heard something hit the floor.  I turned around to see what I had knocked down and to my horror saw, you guessed it, my new Pod.  On the floor.  Cannula sticking in the air…

That was a record for me.  Actually, before this move I hadn’t really knocked off a Pod (well, I did say I – referring to the time when I got too close to the same daughter while trying to wake her up one morning and she swatted it right off my arm).  It wasn’t as if placement mattered either.  That pod was on my leg.  The other three pods were placed on the arm and stomach.  Luckily with the others I managed to make it to the second day (and sometimes almost the third) before knock-off occurred.

Well, I’m happy to report that I’m back to my pre-move modus operandi and I’m adjusting to my new space nicely.  What is truly nice, however, is having the family under one roof again as my husband had to come to this job before we were able to join him.  It’s good to have little more normal return to our lives.  As far as blood sugars…well, I don’t think there ever will be a normal for that.


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