Monday, October 08, 2012

Diabetes & Drag Races, Italian Style 
We got up in the wee hours of the morning to go to the hospital to get T's microinfusore/insulin pump. T had to go without breakfast and I hardly touched anything so in the end there was no food or drink for another seven hours. On the way to the car T realized that she had taken a full dose of medicine last night and the doctor had told her to just take a half dose. I wasn't at the meeting which was four days ago and only remembered T mentioning this detail to me once in passing. F . . . lasciamo perdere/let's let it go at that.

In the car on the long and nauseating trip to Florence, we were not even sure that they would let her get this device that she has been talking about every day for months and months like it is the best most anticipated Christmas present ever.

The first thing the doctor said to me when she found out about the error was "Well, we are really getting off on the right foot, aren't we? You know this treatment is very precise and we need out patients to be well organized if they are going to take this step etc. etc." I wasn't about to take that lying down so I said, "Well since I was at work during that meeting, and my husband barely speaks Italian and my daughter is twelve, I think we can pretty much understand how such a thing might happened." I refrained from saying, "Maybe if YOU were better f-ing organized you could have had somebody send us a note or a text or called us to remind us of this important preparatory step." Then the otherwise adorable tech guy who managed to stretch out what we learned last night on the internet in forty minutes into a four and a half hour lecture chimed in, "This doctor is really great, if I were you I would do what she says and not backtalk her." I had a really great come back for that, but too bad for everyone, and I mean everyone, that I took that as my cue to burst into tears.

We were not even alone with the tech guy because there was a seventeen year old girl who is on a competitive swim polo team (and has the shoulders to prove it) and her mother. They ended up being really nice, but at the time they just adverted their eyes. As soon as we got to the parking lot where the chilly morning had turned into an Africa hot afternoon, we plunked down on some concrete so T could have some pasta. We now had to face the little pink electric bugger on our own and things did not go very smoothly. In the car the tube got tangled up with the seat belt and got air in it and so we had to deal with that. Her blood glucose values were higher than they should be and we have to figure out what correction to do. It is going to be a long couple of weeks, but we are on our way. I couldn't be more proud of T.



Then the tech guy accidentally stabbed himself with a demo needle so I guess it was not really a banner day for anyone:

 

 BTW, the tech guy (Antonio) kept referring to the pump as lui or he, but he is totally pink and girly so we decided he wanted to express himself as a she and have named her (with all due respect) Ru Paul.

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