New sensor and a realistic Holliday goal
Hole punch. Check.
Alcohol pad. Check.
Sensor out of the fridge. Check.
What am I missing.....Hmmmmmm....the pile on the kitchen table doesn't look big enough. Something's missing....Ah, yes! The transmitter pads. You'd think by now I'd have this down.
Getting ready for sensor site change; and not a moment too soon 'cause this puppy is itching, itching, itching, ITCHING!!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
OK, I don't know how to describe the feeling. Did you ever break your leg? Yeah. Remember what it was like when you got that itch deep, deep, way down inside the cast? The itch you can't reach no matter what? Yeah that's the one. Buried under all the IV3000s, centered under the transmitter is that same itch. The itch that can't be reached.
I've tried pushing the transmitter deeper into my leg. I've tried agitating it back and forth, but that just moves the skin over the muscle. The itch is at the top layer of skin.
Unlike the poor sap in a cast, I could, of course, take the whole array off and scratch like a grizzly bear in the woods. But I'm too cheap to bring myself to do that. I'll ride it out. Tough uppper lip and all of that.
Now, of course, today is Christmas Eve. We've got party at Rio's Great Aunt Connie's house tonight. Mid-day family meal here at the house tomorrow, and desert at Anita's house on Christmas night. Anita is actually Jewish, so I'm not sure exactly how that fits in Hanukkah wise, I’m a little fuzzy on that, but I just know to be there on Sunday at 8pm Indian Time (the New Mexico version of 8pm sharp. It means plus or minus 20 minutes--usually minus--we run on a different sesnse of time out here). Not an invitation I'd miss for the world.
Back in the early 2000s Anita worked for me as a mini lab operator. At the time she was in her early 70's. Anita is also a diabetic. One morning, pulling into the parking lot for work she had some sort of mini-hypo incident, hit the accelerator instead of the brake and drove in to the lab. Note I said in to not into.
But I digress. Anita is the single most brilliant desert cook, no.... chef, that you will ever meet. Her creations are so far out of this world that I have not words to describe them. She occasionally makes diabetic friendly stuff, but generally not. What is most amazing, is that she never tastes what she makes. Like deaf Beethoven conducting his Fifth.
I'm not sure which amazes me most, her culinary skill or her will power. I have neither, but will benefit from both.
So here is the plan to survive this string of culinary ambushes that have been laid out for me: Avoid going into a coma. That's it. That's the hole plan. Just survive the next two days with out going into a coma. High. Low. Up and down. What ever. Just keep the baby blues open except when sleeping (so Santa will come) and I'll consider it a success!
Merry bolusing to all, and to all a good night....