Puerto Rico

Dear Blog,

I am on a flight to Puerto Rico.  Getting away for a four-day long weekend - just me, Hubby and the baby.  The three month old bundle of joy.  Our bouncy toddler is spending the weekend with his grandpa.  I feel like he is missing out and I miss him.

We’re on the plane and the guy behind Hubby has a pump.  An insulin pump.  I can hear it trying to get his attention.  Beep beep beep.  He’s either running out of insulin and that’s a “LOW RESERVOIR” alert, or he is has a sensor on and it wants him to “BG NOW”.  I want to turn around and tell him his pump is calling him... or maybe introduce myself.  I feel like I should greet him. I feel compelled to say something. "Hey, you have one of those?  Me too!" He's in his forties, travelling with his wife and two teenage kids.  I decide not to turn around.  I just keep nudging Hubby and telling him "Guy with the pump has a low" then, "Guy with the pump is having a snack".  He nods and turns back to his INflight magazine.  

The snack cart comes around and I hear Pump Guy bolus for his pretzels.  I stash my snack for the inevitable low that will hit me during our transfer in Atlanta.  (When I do reach for my biscotti, I flip it on the back to find the nutritional information.  I find an address, a telephone number and the message “Phone or write for nutritional information” in capital letters.  Really, Delta Air Lines, really?!  You want me to call with the cell phone I’m not allowed to use or write you a letter through snail mail to receive the amount of carbohydrates in this snack two weeks after I consumed it? Really? Genius.)

As we fly I think about LOST - the TV show.  If we were to crash land into one of these deserted islands below and survive, it wouldn’t be good.  I wouldn’t survive for long.  Even if this plane was to somehow land safely on land or water - without insulin I would survive maybe one year tops... and that's only if I don't have a DKA attack.  (Diabetic Ketoacidosis).  And I would have to be on a drastically reduced calorie intake.  So reduced that I would probably die of starvation.  Hubby and I talk about it and he wonders what I would even be able to eat out there.  I say Coconuts... but I'm not sure.  That would be so terrifying. 

We recently watched Disney's Swiss Family Robinson and although I understand the story to be very unbelievable, I resolve that I could be like Mrs. Robinson.  Hubby and Josh would build me a beautiful tree house, (yes, my three month old is very capable) complete with stairs that work on pull strings.  I would make curtains for our home out of the blankets aboard the plane... but then soon I'd be out of insulin... and then what?  At least I’ve got curtains… And with the tropical climate, how would I keep the insulin I have from going bad?  I finally give up thinking about it because it's much too frightening.  

I've had dreams of war breaking out or the dreadful end of the world and the first thing I grab out of my house as we flee (in my dream, remember) is insulin... not photo albums, no jewelry or other things of value.  To me INSULIN is gold - I understand my life depends on it. 

For this four-day trip I picked up insulin in "pen-fills" not vials so that I can split it up in our luggage.  I have two "pen-fills" in my purse, one in the diaper bag, and two in each of the suitcases.  If I lose any one of these pieces I will have insulin in a separate bag.

I filled my pump the night before and replaced the battery in my pump.  I have new strips (and back up strips in all the luggage) and I feel prepared.  As long as the plane doesn’t crash – I am prepared.

I look out my window and see small islands below.  “Small” in comparison to North America I guess.  I can't wait for us to land.  Come on, Puerto Rico!  I am ready.  I've got my insulin and I'm good to go.  Bring on the sunshine; bring on the beach.  I'm determined to enjoy my vacation and my life as any non-diabetic person would.  

PS At departure, security scanned me for radioactive material.  They wiped my pump and my hands with some sort of swab and then tested it to see if I was in contact with something other than insulin.  I was cleared.  No officer, don’t you know?  I need all the insulin I can on board.  What good would radioactive materials be to a diabetic? Seriously...