Cause you make me feel...

If you've been reading this, see my Facebook, are following me on Twitter, or know me even just a little bit, you know that I am getting an insulin pump. Actually, I already have it. It's just not connected to me yet. That happens Monday. I still have not watched tutorials and I am fairly in the dark here. So everything that is going on, I have little to no knowledge about. I plan on re-blogging after I watch the tutorials tonight.

I am having a lot of mixed feelings about this bad boy. (That's pretty much what I've been calling that thing--bad boy. I will probably give it  human name once it is attached because I'm incredibly weird like that and if it has to be my pancreas, then dammit I'm going to treat it like a siamese twin.) Everyone keeps telling me I'm getting ready to have a better quality of life with it. And I believe them. But that doesn't change the fact I'm about to have something be attached to me for the rest of my life.

Scared: I'm frightened as all get out because it's a whole new lifestyle. What if I pass out trying to put it in? What if I do it wrong and end up horrible infected? What if I roll over on it at night and can't sleep? What if the baby pulls it out and it hurts? What if I look disgusting with it in that my husband won't want to touch me? What happens when I go on a float trip and have marks all over my body from it? What happens if I can't handle it?

Angry: I shouldn't have this disease. I definitely shouldn't have to deal with a pump that makes sure I can digest and break down food properly. I see a lot of people out there that I feel like are more deserving and who hurt themselves consistently, but they don't have these issues. I am pissed that people think I did this to myself. I am angry there is no cure.

Guilt: I feel crazy guilty about even considering wishing someone else had this besides me. I feel guilty when my blood sugars are too high or too low. I feel guilty that I am irritable to the people I care about the most. I feel guilt when I eat potatoes. Any kind. I feel guilt when I drink. I feel guilty the only reason I quit smoking is so I am less likely to lose a limb. I feel guilty that people think I gave myself this and then I get angry at their ignorance instead of kindly trying to educate them.

Sad: I am sad it takes me five minutes to start eating my food. I am sad my husband has to watch this disease destroy me some days. I am sad I have to ask for help some times. I am sad that there are so many wonderful people around me feeling helpless.

Happy: I am happy I have awesome support. Timmy-my loving husband, my parents, my sibs, my business partner/bff, my close friends, my lifelong friends and the DOC. I am happy I live in an age where there is advancing technology EVERY DAY! I am happy I don't have six inch needles and a vial to give me insulin. I'm happy no one put a sign around my neck that said "Don't feed me, I'm diabetic." (Funny, but I know someone who had this done to them, by a parent, in grade school.) I'm happy that I have a great Endocrinologist. I'm happy that I have a decent job. I am happy that I have pretty good insurance-even though we pay out the a$$ for it. I am happy I have tutorials, and online question forums, ask-a-nurse, an on-call doctor and a team of diabetes education experts who will help me when I have questions.

Worried: I am worried I'm never going to be able to pay for all this. I am worried my support system will fail. I am worried I will fail.

Excited: My life is about to change. And I made this change. I have come a long way since I have been diagnosed, both as a Type 2 (WRONG!) and then eventually a 1.5. I worked my butt off to be okay with this pump and now that I am emotionally ready, I think I'll be physically ready too.

I've been accused of having too many feelings. And that was before I was diagnosed. Now they are always there. Oh, well. Could be worse.