This morning, I checked my blood, and then accidentally stabbed my eye with my mascara wand, and then impaled my hand on an open safety pin. Fitting, because today is the first day I get to inject myself with insulin because my pancreas is on strike. I got the Porsche of diabetes equipment, apparently, so it should be pretty easy and fast.
Martin went with me to see how it is done. He doesn’t know yet that I’m gonna make him do it.
(He may be on to me, though, as I’ve slipped and called him Nurse Ratched about three times already…)
The shot itself appears easier than the MOPP nerve-agent injection pens we got in the military, too. No need to bend the needle and hang it from my chest!
The kids were both fascinated and horrified as Martin explained the insulin shot to them.
But for the record, I am calling it now: my daughter is probably going to go into some type of medical career field when she grows up. Her older sister and younger brother were too nervous to watch, but this young lady stayed and held my hand when I got squeamish, reminded me I was in the military and got a billion shots before, EXPLAINED to me everything her father told her, as well as the reasons I need to do this for FestBaby, and then assisted her Dad with the various items like she’s been doing this for years. She already helps with my blood sugar tests, and is not fazed at all by any of it. Her bedside manner is the BEST.
Also? Shout-out to Martin for ignoring my whimpering. And Lola greeted me in the driveway when I got home from work, ready to play cards with me. Wynter made goulash for dinner. A bunch of mags and catalogues arrived in the mail, as did another box of goodies from my friend Jennie. And it’s been so nice outside lately…I think we can pack away the winter gear.
It’s been a good day.
My mother celebrated another birthday yesterday so today’s Throwback Thursday photo is from 1983, when she was a few years younger and in a similar condition as I find myself today.
That’s me giving my sister Jill a high-five.