Today’s prompt for the 30 posts in 30 days challenge was to give me free reign. I can write about anything I want. A suggestion given was to write about a question you get often.
Does it hurt?
I get this one every once in awhile (usually in conjunction with “I could never do that.”) Most recently, when a coworker was asking me about my pump and CGM. We were in the elevator, leaving work for the day, and I started beeping. She asked me about them, and seemed genuinely curious, so I asked her if she wanted to see what they looked like (luckily I had both sites in my stomach, so there it was easy to give her a quick peak.) When I showed her, she winced and said, “Does it hurt?”
My response was (and usually is), “Nah. Not really. The needle doesn’t stay in there; it’s just a cannula, similar to how an IV works.” That generally makes the wincing better once they know the needle doesn’t stay in there.
So, physically, no it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. There is just a flash of pain when the needle is inserted. And then that pain is gone as quickly as it came.
What does hurt are the unseen aspects. It hurts when I think about all of the damage this disease can do (and has done) to my body, sometimes even when I do everything “perfectly.”
It hurts when I think about how many years have been wasted not being more knowledgeable and connecting more. To myself, and to others that know what I’m going through.
It hurts to know that because I have a condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), which is commonly linked to diabetes, that I likely will not have another child. Again, something out of my control. And something that I am still working on accepting.
It hurts my heart more than anyone can know, to think of the possiblity of this disease touching my son. I know odds are that it won’t. But odds are odds. And considering the fact that my mom, myself, and my son, all have diseases/conditions that nobody else in our family has proves to me that we can sometimes fall outside of the realm of “averages” and “odds”. And even if it doesn’t touch him directly, he will be affected by it. He already is to some extent. When my family sits at the table to eat, he already knows that Mommy will get everyone’s food on the table, then take an extra minute or two to test my blood sugar, add some numbers, punch some buttons, and then we can eat. He already knows that sometimes Mommy has to pause what we’re doing so I can take my “medicine” (glucose tabs) or drink a juice box before we can continue. He knows that Mommy wears an insulin pump.
He knows we get to go to the “diabetes walk” every year.
Even though he doesn’t yet know exactly what it means, he knows that Mommy has diabetes.
At the age of 4, he knows emergency numbers to call in case one day he can’t wake Mommy up. And the night that I taught him that drill, that is what hurts.