That pretty much describes my mood. I've been thinking about my insulin pump dilemma all day. It's kind of hard not to focus on it, because I've got that loaner pump tucked in my pocket at the moment, feeding me insulin. I don't really want to give up the pump, but I may not have a choice. I'm trying to climb out of the doldrums today, but, every time that pump beeps in my pocket, I slide back down into the pit of despair.
Don't worry. I'll be alright. I'm just going to wallow for a few days. I may throw in a few panic attacks and some primal screams for good measure. By the weekend, I should be back to my normal state of insanity, the doldrums far behind me. This is one of the God moments where I simply have to hand it over to my Higher Power and trust. Things will work out. Things will work out. Things will work out. I have to keep repeating that or else I find myself hyperventilating into a paper bag.
Since I didn't do a Web dip on Monday, I will ask this question today:
Will I be able to get another insulin pump without taking out a second mortgage on my house?
And the answer from the Book of Charlotte:
Wilbur hung his head. His eyes grew wet with tears. Charlotte noticed his embarrassment and she spoke sharply to the lamb.
Well, that didn't help with my doldrums at all.
Maybe Saint Marty should try a more uplifting book, like The Plague by Albert Camus.
Anybody for a little light reading? |
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