It takes me somewhere between 12 and 25 minutes to drive to work in the mornings. I drive down a terribly busy road which carries trams, cars, trucks and bikes. People dash across the road whenever they can. It is hectic!

Yesterday morning, I was sitting in traffic, mentally counting down how long it would be before I got to my morning café for my take away coffee.

I yawned. ‘Need coffee,’ I thought. I yawned again. And again. ‘Oh, shit,’ I thought. Even though I felt fine, the incessant yawning gave it away. I was low.

I reached into my handbag and pulled out the pink and red Marimekko purse and, taking advantage of the banked up traffic, pushed a strip into the bottom of the meter, pricked my finger and wiped the drop of blood across the strip.


I swore. Loudly. So loudly that the woman in the car next to me looked over at me. We both had our windows closed.

The road is a clearway in the mornings; I couldn’t pull over. I put on my indicator, silently begging the traffic to move so I could turn left into the street ahead.

I grabbed a handful of jellybeans from my bag, and shoved them down my throat, chewing furiously as the cars in front of me inched forward.

Finally I could turn left. I pulled into the side street and parked. Turning off the engine, I sat there chewing and gulping.

How had this happened? I scrolled back through my meter and saw that less than 20 minutes earlier, just before I left the house to drop the kidlet at school, my BGL was 5.9mmol/l.

My eyes filled with tears at this point – typical response when I think about how diabetes impacts on those I love. I swiped my hand across my eyes, cursing (again) as I saw my mascara had run.

Involuntarily, my hand moved to my stomach where my CGM was fastened. As I was rushing around getting ready that morning, my pump pulsed and squealed, telling me that the sensor was dead after having been in for seven days. I knew I just needed to reset it – it was still reading beautifully.

But I didn’t. I didn’t restart it. I just shoved my pump away, thinking that I’d maybe, maybe, not sure, perhaps start it later in the day. If I felt like it.

I swore again – this time at myself.

I need this. At the moment, I need this. I am already feeling so lousy at diabetes – second guessing everything – I need whatever help I can to help me.

I looked at myself in the rear-view mirror. ‘I need this,’ I told myself, tears welling again.

After about ten minutes, I rechecked my BGL and it was back up over five. I was good to drive and make my way to work.

I went to start the car and stopped. I pulled my pump out from my bra and scrolled through the menu until I found what I was looking for. ‘Start CGM Sensor Session’.

I pressed start.

Sensor start