I have been quite pleased with my ability to handle the technical side of Lance’s pump.
This evening, Lance’s blood sugar levels were on the right side of perfect, and it was such a wonderful feeling that he had showered, reattached the pump, and all seemed well in our nest.
“BEEP BEEP BEEP”
“BEEP BEEP BEEP”
“DISCONNECT PUMP FROM BODY”
“CHECK BLOOD GLUCOSE”
“REDO SITE CHANGE”
“BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP”
“BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!!!”
Lance and I looked at each other in sheer horror. We unclipped the pump from his pyjama pants.
“Does this mean my kidneys are failing, Mum?” he asked.
I rushed to him and looked him square in the eye.
“No, not at all. Forget that thought completely. The pump isn’t happy with something that I’ve done. I will fix it though, I promise. I smiled broadly to prove to him that I was confident, when really, I was experiencing sheer panic and I felt very fearful about what was about to happen.
Firstly, a BSL check. 17.6mmol/L.
It gets better…AND a trace of ketones.
Whaaaaaaaaaaaa, it is 3 degrees outside and 11pm-way past Lance’s bedtime, but usually the time when Diabetes related disasters occur. I’ve let my guard down in the past week. I should know that nothing is ever safe or foolproof with Diabetes. Pump or no pump, there’s still a reasonable chance of a crisis, ranging from mini to super (with wings).
I grabbed my quickserter, a new set, a new reservoir, half a dozen alcohol wipes, the glucometer and a sharps kit. We marched into the spare room, armed with everything to fix this problem, and flicked the heater’s “on” button.
Lance nestled into his mini armchair. I attempted to give off the vibe that I had everything together. My brain was like jelly, I had no idea where to start, or how to shut the infernal beeping off. I could feel my heart gently start to pound. I had no time to waste. I grabbed the phone, and called the Medtronic 24 hour helpline.
(Bless you, Medtronic.)
Despite my fears, I was quite intrigued about the whole “American” experience. I pressed “2″ for faults a couple of times, and was told that I would be addressed as soon as a customer service professional was available.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
I smiled at Lance, and made a dumb face directed at the pump. He smirked, but I could tell he was worried.
Was that a voice?
Yes!
“Hello?”
“Welcome to Medtronic, how can I help you this morning?”
(It was a male customer service provider, with a twangy, slightly sulky voice. Maybe he had an adnoidal problem..Anyway, I got an immediate image of Jon Lovitz stuck in my head, and it wouldn’t beep off!)
Jon Lovitz working for Medtronic Helpline? I am sleep deprived. Was that a sheep?
I told “Jon” all about my woes, in fact, I spoke for almost two minutes, without any response.
A few more seconds lapsed… “I can help you with this, Keete.” he replied. I could hear the faint thumbing through pages-no doubt troubleshooting solutions for people like me.
I was so relieved that he wasn’t confused or totally weirded out by what I had just told him.
Then, I had to spell EVERY word to him. My name, my address, the serial number, the quickset’s serial number…
“Keete, where is Queensland?”
“It’s in Australia.” I replied, without tweaking my voice to the sarcasm tone.
“Is it a country in Australia?” he asked. I was biting my lip, trying not to make him feel as though I was ridiculing him.
“No, it’s a state. Queensland is a state.” I stated.
“Ah, it’s a state. Okay, got it. Do you have a zip code?”
“Yeah, we do. Every town has one. We call them post codes though.”
“Postcodes?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s interesting. I’ll have to remember that.” (He was totally serious, or a VERY good actor.)
“Okay, I want you to tell me what the screen says on your son’s pump, Keete.”
I obliged. We went through a few more Q and A’s. We then got to the part where he wanted me to prime the insulin.
“You just need to let me know as soon as you see insulin, Keete, okay? Even if it’s only a drop, that’s fine, just fine.”
“Yep. I have that part covered.” I replied.
“I’m sorry? What are you covering? You should not be covering anything at this point, you should be holding the tube in your hand, and pressing ACT with the other.” He sounded very panicked.
“Ahh apologies..’I have it covered’ is a general expression which means, ‘I know how to take care of that,’ do you know what I’m saying?” I had my head in my hand at this point.
“So, nothing is covered, it was a joke, right?” he asked hesitantly.
“That’s right. I just meant that I knew about how to prime the machine and look for insulin to appear from the tubing. No actual ‘covering’ of anything to do with the pump. I’m listening to your instructions very carefully.” I hoped he understood…
“Riiigght. I see. So now that you see insulin, would you like to try inserting the reservoir into the pump?
“Sure. No problem. Done.” I replied.
“Okay, what does your screen..”
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
He had hung up on me!!!!!!
Mid-sentence, our coversation was abruptly terminated.
A-ha! He has my phone number! He requested it at the beginning of the coversation!
I patiently waited…imagining him finding the screen on his computer with my contact details.
ALAS.
I was in shock. He was gone..
Jon Lovitz was somewhere in an office in America, answering the next caller.
Nevertheless, he had brightened my spirits, and I swiftly got to finish changing the site.
(I had to laugh when Lance asked if I was speaking to someone in another language.)
Three hours later, so far, so good. Beeping has completely stopped.
On second thoughts…
I think it’s going to be a long morning, actually. I just did a BSL test, and Lance was a devastating 4mmol/L. I have just pressed “SUSPEND”-hoping that the Novorapid will wear off soon and I can enter a lower basal rate. Looking on the bright side, at least I know I did a good, tight job with his site…
My first pump disaster turned out to be michieviously hilarious, but I STILL can’t get the image of Jon Lovitz out of my head!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Nothing against Jon, personally, but why couldn’t the Medtronic guy sound like Jake Gyllenhaal??)
2.45am. Long night approaching.
