You Don't Know What You've Got 'Til It's Gone

At first it was kind of a novelty to live like we did in the olden days.

The element of surprise added interest to every finger stick.

The highs and lows made us think a little harder about the why's and the what next-s.

The nightly 2 a.m. finger sticks let us relive the old familiar moments of rescuing the stuffed rabbit from the floor and wrestling a hand out from beneath layers of covers.

The once-again regular calls from the nurse's office made my day less lonely.

But the lack of a working Dexcom is beginning to take its toll.

We miss the ability to see highs and lows coming on before they're 50's and 300's.

We miss relying on the graph to show us a steady upswing after a low instead of drawing blood every 15 minutes until we're absolutely sure the number is stable.

We'd like to sleep. 

We're all caught up on everything that's going on in the nurse's office and its environs.

So I was glad this morning to find in my inbox the shipping notification for our Dexcom's new transmitter.  A combination of my slowness to order it as soon as the low battery notification appeared and the slowness of getting insurance approval for and shipping a new one has left us Dexcom-free for a week. 

Which isn't the end of the world, and I'm grateful we have the technology at all, but now that we're used to having the data and the safety net, it's really hard to do without.  Even my daughter, who is still understandably ambivalent about the insertion of and constant wearing of another device, asked yesterday about the status.  "I can't wait to have it back- I'm so tired of not knowing what's going on."  Me too.