I’ve had better days. In fact so far today, everything that could go wrong, I think it probably has.
It started innocuously enough. One of the daily tasks in my getting up routine is to test my sugar. I posted about diabetes a little the other day. I mentioned the word test, but beyond that, I didn’t elaborate. I shall do so a bit here, and also tell you why it went wrong this morning.
There are various ways of testing your sugar. The most lo-tech is just peeing on a strip. The strip goes different colours depending on your sugar. As you can imagine, because you pee on it, it is totally painless. It’s also not very accurate. So most diabetics don’t rely on it. I don’t even have the strips.
By contrast, the most hi-tech is a full-on blood test. You go to your doctors surgery, there is a needle and syringe, they take some blood, send the sample off to the lab, and the next day you get your results. We’ve probably all had this test as part of a standard blood test, but if the value is in the expected range, generally nobody says anything.
There is a middle way, one favoured by most diabetics. It’s in the privacy of our own bathrooms, so there’s a big advantage straight away. It’s still a blood test, but only a drop of blood is required. Just like the image. You push the drop of blood onto a (nother type of) strip, and this goes into a machine called a glucometer. These things are tiny, easily fit into the palm of your hand, run off batteries, nice and portable. In about 5 seconds, the glucometer will tell you how much sugar is in your blood at that time.
I don’t know how they work, but it has got to be something electrical, because the machine is basically a circuitboard with a screen. At a guess, the drop of blood makes a circuit, they measure the voltage across the blood, and I guess that thanges with your sugar level. So they probably do a little conversion, and the number is on the screen.
Did you note back there I briefly mentioned pricking your finger? That in itself has become an art-form. I mean, you could start with a knife and cut yourself, but that’s way more blood than required, and way more pain!
So these machines have evolved where you pull a kind-of trigger, and they thrust a piece of sharp metal about 1mm into your skin! You know, shallow enough that you only bleed a drop of blood. But at the same time, that’s all the machine requires.
Now, these little pieces of sharp metal are called lancets. They come out of the factory sterile, and that’s just how they are intended to be used – a new lancet every time. But most diabetics don’t bother. I am the only person who uses my lancing machine, so I’m not particularly worried about catching something (new 🙂) from the last person who used it! So, the measure of when to change one of these lancets besically becomes when it gets blunt. Normally every month or so.
So, as you can imagine, all sorts of various finger-pricking contraptions have come along. They’re only really a bit of plastic, so every glocometer comes with one – the glucometer is the smart device here. It’s a bit like the wild west – every manufacturer, and pretty much every model, does its own thing.
And that’s what started the ball rolling this morning. I decided that the lancet was a bit blunt, so hunted out my stash of new lancets. It didn’t fit. Or rather, it did fit, but the bit of metal was too short to come and poke me. Even on maximum. You’re using the wrong lancet with that device, my wife says. I’m pretty sure I’m not, but I check anyway. So I raided a brand new glucometer. Fresh finger-pricker, fresh lancet. Same result. Thirty minutes of faff, and at that point the hammer came out – well at least that gave me some closure, made the outcome a bit more final! So, a big Thank You to Onetouch, for their totally shitty finger-prickers.
Not to worry, I have a backup. I measure myself twice a day, it is important so I keep backups of backups of backups… Basically, I take a new glucometer every time it is offered, and with every glucometer comes a finger-pricker.
I go to the bathroom to find the backup – not there. Well, it’s not where it is meant to be. It might be somewhere, but there is so much crap in there… So, I’n searching on my hands and knees – I’m never too sure I can get back up from there! In the end, I find the backup – some dozy twonk has put it in another cupboard, safe and sound. And, that dozy twonk might well have been me!
So, not quite midday – we still have things to do today – and all I really feel like doing is going back to bed.