Today, diabetes can bite me. I changed out a perfectly good – and working perfectly – cannula this morning because it had been in for four days and I sometimes follow some diabetes rules.
Fresh out of the shower, I stabbed in my line and knew straight away something wasn’t right. I am more than used to (and expect) the little sting that comes with the introducer needle piercing my skin. But this one really hurt. And then when I primed one unit of insulin into the empty cannula it hurt. Really hurt.
So, I ripped it out. Which was a good idea! I present exhibit A:
This resulted in swear words galore because I am classy and a lady. I pulled another infusion set from the cupboard, ripped it open and shoved it in my skin. And again – ouch! I didn’t even bother to prime it – I just ripped it from my skin. Which again, proved a good idea. I present exhibit B:
Ripping this one out was fun. It bled. Down my leg and onto the floor. So I swore again (more classy, more lady) and cursed the diabetes gods and possibly stamped my foot. Actually, I definitely stamped my foot. And threw the useless thing across the room at which point the puppy thought it had a new play toy.
The next cannula went it without a hitch and is behaving itself. Third time lucky.
So, what did I learn from today’s exercise? Not much. Probably that I shouldn’t follow diabetes rules and should have left the four-day-old-slightly-manky-but-working-perfectly cannula in. Because nothing good comes from following rules. Yep. That’s what I’m taking away from this. Also, I need a cupcake.