Best laid plans

So after two recent posts about back up plans (one from me about why we should be offered latest technologies at diagnosis, provided we are taught the basics in case the tech fails, and one from Grumpy Pumper about the weight he gives back up plans and basic tech to ensure he’s never left high and dry), you would think that I have this whole fall-back situation thing sorted.

Alas…

‘Hi, I’m Renza and I’m not good at diabetes.’

I generally carry around two small purses in my handbag. (I should point out that the purses change because I am addicted to Shop Casualty Girl pouches and keep ordering more.)

Click on image to go to Casualty Girl’s e-shop

Purse one holds my glucose meter, which means that I can calibrate my CGM as required and, if for any reason my CGM stops, I can still keep an eye on my glucose levels.

Purse two is my spares bag and in there I have all I need to completely swap out my pump cannula and cartridge, refill my cartridge with insulin, replace my pump battery and, if for any reason my pump stops, I have a back-up plan for my back-up plan with a baby syringe in there to continue the (manual) infusion of insulin until I get home and hook up my spare pump.

I feel pretty damn supercilious just writing about this, because, honestly, I am so freaking organised that I should be given some sort of organisation badge. (I never did Girl Scouts…is there a badge for this? Can someone make me one?)

And, it means that I confidently feel that whatever happens, I can keep doing diabetes – albeit not my preferred way – until I get home and return to normal broadcasting with the tools I like to use.

There is one thing required for this to all work: actually having those two purses with me at all times.

Today, I have neither of them.

Today, I am the living embodiment of a Robert Burns poem.

Now look, I’m not really panicking because I actually do have a back-up plan for my back-up plan for my back-up plan. I work a grand total of about fifteen minutes from home. If everything completely turned to pot, I could get in my car and head home to fix the situation. Also – I can literally see the Royal Melbourne Hospital from my office window, so if getting home wasn’t an option (not sure why that would be the case, but let’s pretend there was a hurricane, or a pack of wild monkeys suddenly took over the city) I could wander over there and beg someone to give me the supplies to get my external pancreas working again.

So, all in all, apart from feeling a little like a disorganised, shambolic mess, it’s really not going to impact on me all that much. But it has reminded me that complacency isn’t something that we can do with diabetes.

Diabetes doesn’t give us the space to do that. It demands vigilance and attention at all times. Shame I’m neither vigilant nor attentive.

Final word to Effin’ Birds…