I ordinarily order my daughter's diabetes supplies intermittently. The strips are refilled in one month, the insulin in another. Yet because of some glitch in the time-space-diabetes continuum this week, we needed everything at once.
Ordering the strips and lancets requires a phone call during which I yell numbers and answers to yes-no questions at an automated telephone robot lady.
Insulin is a 2 step process of calling in the refill to CVS and picking it up. The third step is avoiding purchasing the discount Valentine's Day candy or the new Easter candy on the way in and out of the store.
Ordering sensors involves an unfailingly friendly conversation with someone in Utah.
Insulin pump supplies usually ship automatically but when I need to change our order for any reason, it also involves a phone call with a real person.
Taken separately, these tasks are not overly time-consuming. Sometimes there's a line at CVS, or I'm put on hold to wait for a representative. But even then, it's manageable.
What I realized yesterday was that, strung together, these activities take up a solid chunk of time.
I started at noon, calling in the order for the strips. Ten minutes. Then I called for the sensors. I was on hold for ten minutes, and spent another ten minutes on the phone with the afore-mentioned friendly person in Utah. I needed to add cartridges back into our pump supply order after using up a surplus. Fifteen minutes. Then I drove to CVS, where I waited in line for the insulin I'd ordered the day before. That was a 25 minute round-trip. Put all together, this string of tasks felt like a huge undertaking instead of the usual quick project while dinner was cooking or quick stop on the way home from the grocery store.
Put in perspective, of course, this is not a big deal. In an hour and a half, with a manageable-for-us expense, I was able to order everything I need to keep my child alive for another 3 months.
But I'd still rather spend the time and money on something more fun.