Realised after posting last night that with the pump one of the *only* annoying things about it is its physicality, eg having to plan what to do with it physically, keeping it safe etc. The point is, it becomes so much a part of a person that you don't plan for having it off, or keeping it clean/dry until you are faced with it!
So, to cover all eventualities: an aquapak, and retain a set cover for beach/dirty water stuff. We never normally use it, but it would have been useful as protection at the beach.
All of this water stuff is important even though E is just as well off not wearing the pump while swimming, cause sends him low -- but it would have been safer in two instances this holiday for us to run him on a very low basal, but tuck the pump away in a waterproof thing, on his person, to keep it safe. I almost croaked when I imagined 2,500 pounds of kit floating to the bottom of the lake...
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Second thing to learn...
Bring an extra belt clip/holder! E uses his clip every day, and five days into the hol it snapped as he sat down: no one's fault, just an awkward angle caught on a chair, and boing! Our host kindly went to his workshop and amazingly managed to bring it back into use for a few days with some kind of rosin glue hard plastic contraption...This alas snapped too. So the pump was stuck in a pocket the rest of the holiday. Not the end of the world, but would have been hard for a girl/woman to manage. To Medtronic's credit though, we ordered another the day we got home: it arrived the next day, free of charge! What?! And who in the US says the NHS isn't up to much?! So incredible I want to write a letter about the absolutely fantastic service....
Also upon arriving home, I found a kind of 'holster' that came with the pump...a similar idea to the clip, just a little larger. If we'd brought that as backup, it would have been a good idea...😱
Third thing and probably most important
Accept certain limitations on spontaneity. In other words, ALWAYS look ahead.
On our last day on Mull, we all took up our hosts' offer to climb up behind the house and see the old village and the astonishing views. On went the boots, doggies hooked up to leads, everyone in a anorak except E, who was in a fleece and really didn't want a coat.
Off we went. Straight uphill at quite a clip. Now, we were having a fab time. E was in front with doggies, charging on...We were all chatting away like mad...And half an hour in I thought, need to catch him. He needs to test. This is hard work.
I didn't catch him for about another 15 mins, by which point I'd caught up with my husband too (no, I'm not slow -- my daughter by now was busy collecting wildflowers and getting distracted!), who, like me, didn't suddenly want to show E up by yelling up to him. Fortunately, we signed to him to stop and wait for us, and the host seemed to catch on and sat him down, still chatting...
He was 2.7. Meanwhile a squall was coming in and it started to drizzle. He had some glucose, felt okay, and walked another five minutes. Felt bad again: 3mmols. More glucose. Most of our party had gone ahead.
My husband sat down on the fell and wrapped his coat (duh!) around E. I went ahead to let others know what was happening. The chappie went back to sit with my husband and son (and for safety: one could always come down for help), and one of the dogs (an incentive: E loves them, we don't have any!).
The lady of the house, my daughter, me and the other dog continued the descent, me silently berating...He should have gone onto a temp basal almost immediately. He should have brought a coat. First and foremost, we should have asked how long and hard the walk was, for goodness sake!!!
Seven glucose tabs later he was up and running, and they'd practically caught the rest of us by the time we all rolled up back at the house.
Seven glucose. It was the low point of the holiday. E admitted he had been scared, up on the hill, rain coming in, isolated. My husband admitted he'd begun to make calculations about how far he could carry an 7.5 stone weight. Thank goodness for another person, who could and would have willingly shot back down the hill for more supplies or people...
The lesson's obvious: get over the British politesse of not asking, and ASK. Accept limitations on spontaneity and PLAN. We thought the walk was a little half hour jaunt. All in all, it was two hours. If we'd known this before setting out, none of it would have happened.
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Sigh. I'll admit there were times on the holiday, as wonderful as it was, that I thought 'why us?' 'why my baby?': when we had to wake him up again at 1am , or stop him in an activity to test, or even when I had hysterics about the pump hovering over the lake. I'd have been happier having hysterics over something else, it's that simple!
It's good to laugh at it all, but there's no getting past the constant presence of diabetes, the unwelcome guest who never leaves...
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Saying all this, it was the first break we've managed since diagnosis, and the most relaxed any of us have been in months and months, due in no small part to the pump and its incredible flexibility.
So there.
Bev
