The battle for control

I'm a bit of a control freak. Hmmm...let me rephrase that: I'm a control freak! There - it's out! And right now there is a battle for control being waged between me and the endocrinology team at BWH. The cause: who is going to have control over my diabetes. Notice I said my diabetes. In this case, I think the controlling power is obvious - me. The endocrinology team fails to see that logic, and, therefore, plans to transition me off my insulin pump tonight. I am not happy.

Being off my pump means I need to rely on the nursing staff to test my blood sugar regularly. I've been here more than 24 hours and no one has tested my blood sugar even once. Being off my pump means I need to assume the endocrinology team will accurately convert my basal rate (the amount of glucose that is continually dripped through my pump) to a once-an-evening insulin injection. The endocrinology team doesn't know me. Being off my pump means I need to trust that someone other than me will determine the amount of extra insulin I need for meals, as well as for correction doses when my blood sugar is high. I not feeling the trust right now.

However, being a person in control (sounds so much more dignified than 'control freak'), I do have a Plan B...and a Plan C.

Plan B: talk with my Dana-Farber team tomorrow about the wisdom of my keeping my pump. And, if necessary, call in my own endocrinologist who is across the street at the Joslin Diabetes Center. Literally, he's right across the street. He, though, has already deferred to DF and BWH. Still, it is worth a try, unless I get a lot of push back from my DF team. I don't want to overly annoy them, remembering my good luck in having this team in the first place.

Plan C: the pocketbook...or what's left of it. It was semi-confiscated at room check-in. To be admitted to the transplant floor, all of my clothing, books, trinkets, pocketbook supplies - everything - had to be sealed in ziploc bags. The nurse then had to wipe down everything before it could come into my room. When she came to the last bag, with my usual pocketbook survival kit items, she said, "Everything you brought is fine, except for this bag. It's filled with prohibited items. They need to go home." I gasped! She placed the bag in the safe zone just inside my door...and then she left.

More tomorrow on the pump outcome. As for today, Melphalan went fine, except the staff gave me a bag of hydration that included dextrose, that lovely sugar, without telling me, which resulted in a high blood sugar that I discovered because I had a prohibited item in my nightstand drawer.

It's good to have a Plan C.