Fun with Dick and Jane…. and the remote
They have chosen a high carb restaurant for the meeting.
Normally, I don’t care whether or not people know I’m diabetic. In fact, I always take the view that I’m an ambassador from our tribe to the rest of the world.
However, a woman who is three weeks away from her wedding doesn’t want to learn anything about diabetes. Or any thing else, either. Whipping out my pump could give her visions of her photographer going into a coma as she says “I do.” THUMP. CRASH.
Perfect excuse to try out the Remote Control. The remote drives old fashioned basic boluses, which means you can only deliver pre-determined steps of insulin with each push of a button. You have to count your carbs and do the math in your head. I wish they had the option of letting you punch in the carbs with the remote and let the ParaPump do the math based on the time of day, but oh well. It is good practice to do things the hard way now and again. For my remote use I chose to program a “step” as a full unit of insulin, and then set the pump to vibrate. The remote has three buttons. ACT plus S and B.
We are in a booth at the delightfully noisy Blue Corn Café on Cerrillos and Rodeo in Santa Fe. Of course, I could have just taken a bolus in the parking lot before I went in, but this was so much more fun. Also doesn’t hurt to have the alarms on vibrate during client meetings… We are chatting and laughing and the young couple are sharing tales of the last minute wedding planning when the waiter brings us the chip sampler.
I lean back in the booth and casually slip my hand into my jacket pocket. My fingers find the remote, recognizing the bottom by the key ring. Like reading Braille, my fingers slide over the surface sightlessly seeking the three buttons. I find the large oblong ATC button by feel, press gently in, and hold it. The ParaPump shutters on my belt to let me know it’s paying attention. Next I slide my thumb up and to the right to the B-for-Bolus button.
I bolus first for the chips. One unit per ounce at my mid-day ratio of 1:15. Come on, fresh hot chips with salsa, queso, and guacamole? One….Bzzzzt. Two….Bzzzzt. Three….Bzzzzt. Three full units. I press ACT again and the ParaPump reads back It’s marching orders: ….Bzzzzt. ….Bzzzzt. ….Bzzzzt. One final stab of the ACT button and the insulin is set free.
HeHeHe. No one knows what I’m doing. Not even Debbie. Perverted rush. It’s like doing something naughty in public with all others unaware.
My quesadilla arrives. Under the table I fondle the remote again while I dust off my brain. Two tortillas, 18 carbs each…that’s 26 carbs… no, wait! That’s 36 carbs. Flash back to fourth grade when they tried to force me to memorize my times-tables. I missed a lot of recess…. One….Bzzzzt. Two….Bzzzzt. Three….Bzzzzt.
Did you guys save room for desert? asks our waiter. Debbie and I split a chocolate volcano (don’t ask). One….Bzzzzt. Two….Bzzzzt. Three….Bzzzzt. Four….Bzzzzt. Five….Bzzzzt. Six….Bzzzzt…..